Basically, my journals are my horcruxes, but not really.
Posted by L.A.
If you haven’t read Harry Potter, you might wanna go the fuck away. One, because WHY NOT?! Two, because there’s sort of spoilers in here. Like seriously. Come back when you finish the series.
I’m such a pack rat, guys. Seriously. I save fucking everything.
I have all of the Blue and Whites from when I was in high school (that’s my high school newspaper). I have old corsages from dances. I have wristbands from particularly memorable nights out. I have ticket stubs. I have the chapstick of the guitarist from Sanctus Real from a concert I went to in high school.
I’m not kidding. And that is so fucking creepy. I’m embarrassed that I’m not kidding.
Among all the hubbub that I keep though, there is something that if you know me, I mean really, really know me, then you know I have these.
Journals. Scads and Scads and Scads of journals.
“It’s not a diary. Diaries lock. 12 year old girls keep diaries. This is a journal.”
That was my excuse to people, who thought it was strange that I was a 14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21, etc year old, carrying around a blank book to scribble in. We’ll see how you feel if I ever publish these beauties. Mostly, I just always wanted to be writing. Short stories, poetry, gossip, crush of the year/week/day/hour/minute when someone brushed me on the stairs. My 3rd period Honors English III teacher was THRILLED that I was always writing, although I think she wouldn’t have been as enthralled if she’d read some of what I’d written.
i’m trying not to think of you now
but i’m wringing out the towel
and every drop drips your name
and your face
i wish the sun would dry you out
drive you out
drive me in and love me
(excerpt from a poem from 2003)
But I couldn’t stop. Years later, I look at these journals, and I’m not quite sure what to do with them. Do I want to get rid of them? No. Would you? It’s a pile of reminders of who I was, or who I was when I didn’t know who I was, or just memories of times and changes and people that I might lose otherwise.
But other than that? It’s a pile of books gathering dust under my bed.
I was reading Harry Potter, for the 210394823 time. Because it’s Harry Potter, and that’s what you do.
#HP7 and crying because Mad-Eye.
— Laura Anne (@LA_theGirl) July 24, 2013
So, I’m reading HP, and I’m crying, and I’m trying not to drip my tears on my book, because I totally turned down a night of underage drinking in college to get the damn thing at midnight, when my friend Mohawk texts me.
Like any 20 something folks that grew up in the mind of J.K. Rowling, we begin discussion of the book. He, of course, brings up the second best Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Snape. Snape. Severus Snape.
Which would be well and good until…
And now we come full circle.
Not just gathering dust under the bed. But useful when needed to one up someone in a debate on if or if not you considered Severus Snape to be a very, very bad man, or else you know…
I’ve never been so thrilled to have kept these books all these years.
P.S. Dear J.K. Rowling,
If you happen to write another 7 books, could they maybe be about Sirius going through Hogwarts? Or James, or Remus, or Lily? I’ll settle for anyone except for Wormtail, cuz douchecanoe.
- Always. (dreamsandworriesofmylife.wordpress.com)
- Stuff You Don’t Know About the Boy Who Lived! (popspoken.com)
About L.A.Mom Life/Engaged Life/Blog Life/Love Life
Posted on August 5, 2013, in DeLorean DMC-12, Merriments, Words and Phrases and tagged blank book, Diary, Harry potter, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Hogwarts, iMessage, iphone, JK Rowling, Journals, prediction, Sanctus Real, Severus Snape. Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.