Midnight-Woe

My life is constantly pinned precariously between destruction and creation. My energy is only useful at any point in time for both or neither of those things, in other words, I choose to create or to destroy. Sometimes it is difficult to keep myself from destruction, when hatred runs so black in my veins. When I look into the eyes of someone who's betrayed me, or someone pushes me too far, or when I feel childish and don't get what I desire, I feel like destroying. I feel like overturning tables, and beds, of punching holes in the wall with my fists, and breaking noses. But I don't. I create because it is what I am meant to do, and what

Once upon a time, it was alright to be a tomboy. It was alright to hang out with guys, and self-expression was encouraged. Then came the great gender separation, where the teachers assigned us seats at the lunch table. Boy table, girl table. But no tomboy table. Middle school rolled around, tomboy again, relief, my friends were back. I was called a lesbian daily in the locker room. Gender became important then, when people used homophobic slurs and it was all about who-was-dating-who, and I dated one of my friends. Everyone told me it was a beard. But today is a new day, I grew my standard tomboy-muscle-mass that eventually happens to ev

DISCLAIMER!!!!!!! I don't own none of this shit, it belongs to J.K. Rowling, and her enslaved house elves (I'm sorry, ehem, "indentured servants") "So remind me again why we're doing this." Ginny asks, hands in her pockets and tiredness in her blue eyes. "Because," I reply quietly, "I've always wanted to see the prefects' bathroom, and you have they key." I smile at her, and she cracks. "Fine, Luna, but why does it have to be in the middle of the night?" "So no one will bother us." "Us?" Ginny's confusion shows itself in the creases of her forehead. I blush. We've known each other for 4 years, and she still has no clue that I'm in