How Chloe may have felt after 33.1 and her problems in her love life and family before chlollie happened. it can be applied to Harry Potter- Hermione's emotions after the war if she lost Harry or Ron. Let me know what you think. On Live Journal too under the same name and HP category.

I wish I could run.

Run, as far as possible.

Away from all the pain and hurt.

Both physically and emotionally.

Emotions are such fickle things, their as every changing a the autumn leaves.

Love changes to hate, hate changes to love,

Friendship becomes something more, something more becomes something less

Bonds we think of as unbreakable become as fragile as shards of glistening glass.

Hearts break.

Resolves weaken and break,

And strength weakens and breaks,



That's how we all end up.

We wither away slowly and painfully so were fragile as glass..

Then we break.

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

But you stay strong. You refuse to show how you really feel because you don't want to be weak.

You want to show that the words spoken to you don't hurt. You want to show that your invincible.

But you know your not.

You repeat it.

Over and over, you chant it like mantra.

Hoping and praying if you say it enough you'll start to believe it.

But you don't. You try though, you don't stop, you just hope the mental torture will be over soon.

Its your personal hell.

It burns you from the inside out,

But you smile and try to move on when you know you cant,

Yet think you fool everyone with that fake, practised smile that you have patented into perfection,

You haven't fooled everyone.

The smiles you smile are fake.

I know it; because their the same smiles I smile.

I know your 'I'm don't know what you're talking about smile' very well.

I know your 'I'm forget about, it doesn't matter smile even better.

Out of all your smiles I know your 'I'm perfectly fine' smile the most.

I know because at the end of the day I'm like you.

I suffer the same mental agony over and over again.

I too, feel my heart shatter ruthlessly into the smallest pieces,

I too force myself to attempt to fix it each day.

I know because I do it myself.

I burn in my own personal hell.

The fiery red flames burn me so,

The torment tears through me like a hot razor sharp knife twisting and turning,

A familiar scarred, wrinkled, hand wrenches my heart out repeatedly each day,

Each day the scar remains.

A memory and reminder of what is to come.

Misery washes through me,

Making me beg, beg and plead for death or mercy.

But neither will happen…

It doesn't mean I wont try though.

Nothing will make it easier nothing will make it go either.

The best we can do is suffer through and hope we survive the anguish.

A tear.

A shattered heart.

Their proof of our will to fight. To prove our strong will.

Because we know…

We know we will fight and come out on top.

We know that we may be broken now and some part of us may always bare the scars, we know a part of us will always be damaged goods, but I know, like you know that we will:

Fight to win.

Come out stronger than ever…

The pain and hurt will be over and eventually.

We have to heal. We will heal. Maybe not fully but we will heal.

Scars shall remain, but they will be a reminder to show the strength of your and my own will

I wont be broken for long…