Gods, look what I’m reduced to. Sitting here, crying over Harry Potter Filk. I have neither dignity nor strength anywhere within me.
I want so bad for everything to be easy.
Haven’t I taken my adolecent penance for long enough?
Aren’t I past due for a letter from Hogwarts? It’s certainly not like I might as well be living with the Durselys, now is it?
Isn’t it time for my horrible accident that leaves me with super powers? I think I’m still young enough to be a hero, too, but if fate waits too much longer… well, you know nobody with powers becomes a hero after 25. There’s just too much resentment built up.
Why can’t I summon a lucky demon to ease my pain, take me away? By rights, that one should have happened years ago. You know how long I’ve been waiting. You know how you betrayed me.
I’m long past puberty. Where are my mutant powers? Where’s Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters? Fucking metaphores. God fucking damn metaphores.
Why can’t I fall into Middle Earth? Or be whisked away to a remote locale by a super villain genius millonaire? Why wasn’t Otto at the movie theatre that night? Why Why Why?
My life follows all the right patterns. I have my backstory. Its obvious where the story is going, so why can’t it just fucking get off it’s ass and GO THERE?!
I’m tired of waiting in this despicable purgatory.
I don’t have the emotional energy for this.
*goes back to reading filk*