Damn you, Literature! You defeat me!

Sometimes I wonder who exactly mended my mind, and where he got his doctorate. I need new stitches, some things are flying loose, things I would usually keep under wraps. I think I’ve decided, some walls come down friday. Sure, they’ve been patchy and full of holes a lot of the time, but now it’ll all be laid bare, all the murky things behind that have festered. Though, I count myself a wordsmith and so I think I can doll up the murk enough to not destroy a friendship. I’m actually cleverly disguising a loss of hope in a last-ditch effort, winner take all, loser, well, loser loses all I suppose.

If you read or have read this blog, or my own, you know more or less exactly what I’m talking about. I feel kind of like how Harry must have felt when he went to take down Voldemort for what he imagined as the last time. I have my own personal Philosopher’s stone, as Harry used to have the people he loved guide him to the incredible climax. They tread the path with him, instilling a confidence needed to confirm the act.

But Harry lives. Spolier alert, I know. He does. And that’s where my fairytale ends. I can see it happening already, that cold, empty Avada Kedavra, a flash of green light, and then….nothing.

All my favorite book characters, all of them, now that I think about it, die in the end. Well, a few of them, (like Harry) cheat a little and come back. But the message is there. Bobby Pendragon “died” in a sense. Darren Shan died. Larten Crepsley died. Dorian Gray died. Chris McCandless. Rorshach. Nathaniel.

Dead, dead, dead. Of course, it’s always a noble, dignified death, one that means something, adds to the experience. That’s my only silver lining. That my ‘death’ will lend something to the story.