A Darkened Love
Why am I here? What does this world have to offer me? Sure, I am rather skilled at several things, but isn't there so much more to life then that? Is this all I have to look forward to? Is this all I can expect from here? Why? I thought that this world was such a great place with countless opportunities. Was that just some worn-out childhood myth as well?
It seems as if I see the world with a visor across my eyes, where everything is dark and not worth any importance. But, then again at times I feel as if I am the only one not wearing anything to shield my vision...that I am the only one seeing things clearly as they truly are.
Am I tortured by my past? Or do I just simply torture myself? I have been alone for so long that my thoughts fail to make sense. They swirl together leaving me nothing but confused and a pathetic waste of a human body. It is a wonder how I seem to carry on each day.
I was suddenly awoken from my pointless train of thought by a rather deafening explosion from across the room.
Without gazing up from my desk I merely said, "Mr. Longbottom, do you think, for the sake of my sanity, that you could just once not destroy one of my better cauldrons in a single class period?" My voice sounded across the silent room sinisterly.
Before anything else could be said or done, the signal for the finish of the class came. The children formed a line piling the samples of their potions onto my desk, and each one of them instinctively avoiding my eye.
As the last of them made their way out of the classroom, I began to carefully store the numerous vials into my cabinet for later when I felt like grading them.
Thank Merlin I didn't have any more classes for the rest of day.
With a quick cleaning charm, I left the dungeons and I walked up to the Entrance Hall. I made my way up to the staircases, and to the second corridor on the left side. I ended my trek at the far end of the corridor at a giant portrait of a man teaching a youth to read.
"Good day to you, Sir," he greeted me tipping his hat.
"Semper disco," I said in return.
He nodded, his cheerful smile never fading, and swung open the portrait to show the concealed entrance behind. I walked through and down the dark spacious corridor, and passing grand doors on my left and right, I finally reached the one on the end.
A gold plaque with fanciful writing that read Severus Snape Potions Master was hung on the door, and the knob was large and golden as well with great exquisite detailing.
Entering my sleeping quarters, I found myself in usual company. It was not much really; it was almost like a small hotel room, but it was enough for it was my own.
The door to the washroom was immediately as you stepped in, and there was a short hallway before you reached rectangular area. Here a small desk set in the corner by a window that always had it's curtains drawn, and on the adjacent wall set my great four poster bed.
I didn't care much for decorating anything, for I thought the dark gray stone walls were enough of an accent, but I had to have my bed the way I enjoyed it: with my over-sized black blankets, pillows, and luxurious comforter.
I crawled into my bed and wrapped my arms around the first pillow I could find. Laying my head upon it, my thoughts began to wander once more, picking up where I had left off back in the classroom. And, before I knew it my eyes were watering.
I wept, and for how long I did not know. All I know is that the same question kept resounding in my head over and over again, and with each time a searing pain cutting deeper into me. Why? Why? Why?
It's times like these that make me think I torture only myself.