[

mood

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sad

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[private]

I wish that no one would ever ask me if I was all right or not. I'm obviously not all right, but I don't want to explain why. I don't want to talk about it--no one would understand. I don't want to explain it all...I'm ashamed of a lot of it. And I don't want anyone to know about me...about who I really am.

I also don't want to talk about my brother. I...there's a reason I can't even write his name. I don't even think there will be a day when I can say it.

I just wish everything would go away.

I also wish that I could bake cookies. Normal girls can at least do that.

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mood

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crushed

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Four purebloods are dead and I know exactly who is responsible for it I find myself absolutely speechless.

Alright, that's a lie. I'm not speechless....I just can't find the words to describe the pain that is forming inside myself right now. I thought...I thought even Mikel the worst of us kept one idea sacred. I thought that come death and darkness pureblood would stand stong as the one sanctuary from Lord Voldemort's evils.

I was wrong. Even the idea the Dark Side is fighting to maintain - purity - is no longer safe from the likes of my brother. And you know what?

It scares the Hell out of me.

My family may not treat me like a princess, but I do know that with them my life is protected a shitty life it may be, nonetheless. But, if Mikel Death Eaters began destroying their own kind from the inside out, what will be left, but chaos?

The Parkinsons, while Dark Side supporters at one time, did NOT deserve this. Neither did the Bletchleys. In fact, no one deserves the Hell my brother that is that one last, whispered curse.

No on deserves to die.

- Emma

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mood

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depressed

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Have spent many fruitless hours in the past few days skulking around the Restricted Section, which, now that I think about it, is entrely ridiculous.

Somehow, I'm letting myself turn into everything I despise about girls around me. Namely: boy-crazed, superficial, dreaming on things that do NOT exist. I caught myself doddling "SF" on my Transfiguration notebook during class today, and nearly fell out of my chair when I realised what I had been doing.

I cannot believe that I'm letting myself become consumed by a schoolgirl fantasy. I am Emmalinia Dobbs. My parents are dedicated to the cause of the Dark Lord and the purification of the Wizard race. My brother is an active member of the Dark Lord's ranks, and has, I know it to be true, killed for his cause. I am expected to follow in my mother's footsteps: be a little china doll, marry the Death Eater of my parents choosing, and then be a good little wife and purist.

If they ever discovered that I was doodling the initials of a halfblood! Oh, I know what pain feels like, but I cannot even imagine what they'd do to me!

I must stop this allusion before it becomes dangerous.

I should go study Potions. Potions are quite useful.

- Emma

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mood

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indescribable

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Well, now, I'd like to say that I've somehow learned a lesson from all this, but the only thing I have learned is that I should sulk around the Restricted Section more often.

Honestly, I was just trying to get some alone time the other day when I snuck in the Restricted Section. I was minding my own business when I heard...him -- Seamus Finnigan! The same boy who, only two years ago, helped me find my way to Transfiguration class. I hadn't been that close to him since that day, and oh, how wonderful it was!

And he didn't even just speak to me, but he had an entire conversation with me -- as if he saw me as an equal! Any other Gryffindor would have sean my House colours, given me a superior look, stuck their nose in the air and walked away.

He even called me "Lady Emma," and gave me a kiss on the hand. Oh, if only my lips were on my hand, that he might be kissing me!

However, this does not rectify the fact that I, as a Dobbs, am obviously superior to his tainted Irish blood. Now, if only I could convince myself that that statement is true. Let's just hope Mikel does not catch word of my little library rendezvous with a particular sixth year Gryffindor.

Hmph, my cheeks seem to have turned a permanent shade of pink. Not that anyone will notice, but it's quite mind-boggling to know that one little run-in with Seamus Finnigan has reduced me to a pile of Hufflepuff fluff.

Oh, honestly.

- Emma

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mood

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jealous and lonely

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Celia just received yet another owl from her darling older brother. Of course, it is laced with cold, but I find that tone is only for looks, and I know, deep down that the elder Warrington cares deeply for his little sister, unlike the elder Dobbs.

It only hurts when Celia complains that her brother calls her "brat." I'd give anything to hear my brother call me such a term, because I know that every word Cassius Warrington pens is backed by all the love he can possibly contain. Yet, when my brother refers to me ("Sister" is the only thing I am) it is as if he is speaking the most foul word in the English language, but I am used to it.

And it only hurts when I find something to compare it to, such as Celia's relationship with HER brother.

I find it petty to become so jealous over such an insignificant maybe it isn't truly insignificant topic, but every time Piper delivers a letter to me bearing the name of Mikelium, I feel as if a thousand arrows have pierced my heart, and that is before reading it. Yet, no matter how disgusted she might look, I know that Celia is absolutely jubilant when Cassius writes her.

Even as I write this, Celia is reading aloud to me the contents of the next letter she is going to send to her brother, and it's making me physically sick. It's amazing how a person can be surrounded by so many people, yet feel completely alone.

I'm alone on the inside, now I need to go and be alone on the outside.

- Emma