reenka

I think I have some kind of... y'know... issue with fluffy cuteness right now. Which is just kinda weird 'cause I can burst with it like nobody's business, but. See. Fluffy/cute things... people... stories... it's like, if there's no sekrit dark ugly angsty underbelly you're ignoring-but-aware-of, it's just... empty, isn't it? Just all, happy-joy-joy with no real -reason- or contrast, so it's all empty and fake and stupid like pink wallpaper and plastic angels.

It's great when it's funny (because funny makes everything all right!), but. When it's just... 'yeay shiny!!' all the way, I get all... resentful and bitter. I'm like, split, I suppose. On the one hand, I'm pretty ditzy & silly, but I'm not what you'd call a happy shiny person. I shouldn't feel bad that happy shiny people freak me out, should I? I mean. Meh. Just feels fake, all sugary-sweet till it rots your teeth, without that tang of sour. All... drugged out on antidepressants or something, and I don't want to live my life happy like that, not if it means I'm -always- happy. Who wants to be always happy? Why would anyone seriously want to act like they're always happy if they're not hiding something?

Drugs, I guess. It feels like a drug, that shininess. I mean, laughter is the best medicine for a reason, of course, but I don't mean that, I mean... well, empty laughter. Like when you -have- to laugh or you have to -hide- or something. That's just scary isn't it? And if you're always smiling, doesn't it just look fake and wrong? But most people just seem to eat it up. People like crying, too, it seems. Like... a lot of times I see people being like, 'thanks, that's great angst' or something, not quite in those words, but. Weird. There's that distance there, between 'real' emotion and 'public' emotion, maybe? It's a distance I don't have.

I don't really enjoy the constant depressive moping answer either-- it's the -constancy- that bothers me, I think, rather than the mood. I'm pretty okay with any emotion, if it's not all there is. Is that weird? A lot (most?) people seem to have much more of a strong preference, I guess, when it comes to what sort of feeling/mood they want to associate with. Some people like anger (well, punk-rockers do, don't they), some people like sugary-sweet happiness, some people like ennui & snideness, some people like woe-angest-pane. Meh.

Life just doesn't feel as real to me-- people don't feel as real-- writing doesn't feel as real-- unless it displays the full range of emotion. I hate just saying something's 'cute' or 'soso sad'-- I mean... meh. That makes me want to never write anything cute/fluffy ever again :/

I'm just a moody twit & can never be satisfied, basically. That's what it comes down to :> And if I can't be satisfied, I will resent anyone who is? That sounds bad. I should just stay away from overloads of fluff for the moment, then.
~~

EDIT - So, in honor (*snerk*) of my unfluffy mood, I thought I'd post a drabble I wrote a week ago and was too disturbed/embarrassed by to post publically at the time, about undead!Harry risen from the grave to um... 'get' Draco. Muwahahahaha!!

- lover's walk -

The creature groaned loudly and pushed a pale arm through the loose soil. "Nnngh," it grunted, and a shaggy head burst through the ground. The creature had masses of dark hair and a pair of cracked, grimy glasses set awkwardly on its semi-decomposed nose. It was barely a minute before it was out completely, pushing back a strand of hair from its forehead boyishly.

It wiggled its hips, pulling the shredded jeans higher up its sunken arse. After a slight pause during which it looked left and right with unseeing eye-sockets, the creature grunted once again and set off slightly northeast, where the wind was blowing. The creature kept rubbing at its forehead, groaning, but soon the groans became more distinct and seemed to almost form themselves into words.

Sluggishly, thoughts began to form in its simple mind. "Must... find... him," the dead man thought, reaching out with his arms to orient himself in the right direction. He could -smell- him. "Must find--"

It was only a matter of time. His quarry would not be able to escape.

The undead thing staggered through the moonlit streets, only one thought on his mind. Draco! DRACO!

He clambered up the stairs, grunting and licking up some opaque white fluid leaking from the holes where his eyes used to be.

Draco screamed in a high, girlish voice. "P-p-potter??" He leveled his wand desperately. "Go no further! I know anti-undead spells! Stop! I'm telling you to stop, evil creature!" He ducked behind a dresser, apparently unable to look away from undead-Harry's bare, dirt-streaked torso.

"DRACO," undead-Harry repeated in that sonorous voice. "You are evil."

Draco laughed hysterically. "You say this now? Isn't it a bit late for lectures, Potter?" Draco's eyes shone silver in the moonlight. Undead-Harry thought how pretty they were. Would be so good in his mouth. Draco was always good in his mouth.

"Come out," undead-Harry rasped. "Come to me. DRACO."

"You-- you're f-filthy!" Draco stuttered. "And you have no eyes! Are you mad?"

"You haven't hurt me."

"But you'll hurt me, now won't you?" Draco giggled again. If undead-Harry could've felt disconcerted, he would have.

"I'll be gentle." Undead-Harry said reasonably, licking up some stray fluid leaking from his eyes. He reached out with a mottled hand, taking a step forward. "I came back for-- this--"

Draco screamed, bursting with unnatural speed through the glass balcony door. "Stay away, you awful fiend! I-- we're over, do you understand that? Over!!"

Undead-Harry pressed his vaguely blue-green cheek to the glass, smearing unnamable fluids everywhere. "We are to the pain," he whispered harshly. "We are pain. Love is-- pain--"

"You were always crazy, Potter!" Draco yelled, wand still pointed at undead-Harry, though of course he didn't care.

"Crazy for you," Harry allowed. "And now you die," he said calmly, arm bursting through the glass to clutch at Draco's throat.

Draco gurgled, eyes rolling back in his head wildly. "S-see you in hell, Potter!" he hissed viciously. "Some other day!" Then he Disapparated.

Harry groaned. Now he was going to have to look again.

On into the night once more with him.