A/n:    I wouldn't dream of claiming Ron, ~Smiles innocently~,  because he ovoisly is J.K. Rowlings. DUH. And the song, "hurt",  belongs to Nine Inch Nails. I don't think its all very good but here we go...

OH! and personal note to Celery: If you do not post the next chapter to your fic, I shall be forced to kill you. It will be a slow and un-chessy death. OR better yet I'll slowly eat a piece of cheese in front of you  while you sit and watch...I Will Make You Suffer!      <--apoligizes for inside joke.

Warnings: Self harm people! if this ain't your cup o' tea then leave. Very mild though.


 
 
i hurt myself today

to see if i still feel

i focus on the pain

the only thing that's real
 
 

      Ron bite his lip as the blade pushed into the skin of his upper arm. He watched himself move it in a daze. Was it really him who was making those cuts? If you had said to him three years ago he would be cutting his own arm, he would have said you were out of your bloody mind. But it was him.  And now he only felt ok when he felt those gashes. The burning warmth that flooded to the cuts washed away almost everything.  All the pain, loneliness, fear, and denial were but a far off thought. What mattered was he felt okay, if but for a short time.
 
the needle tears a hole

the old familiar sting

try to kill it all away

but i remember  everything


     He hated the memories of everything. How he'd been out shadowed all his life. First by All his brothers...and now even Ginny was better then him.  No he wasn't special. He was a non-entity that was only noticed when it took money or time away from someone. At first it was okay, he had had his friends. That was before everything. Before he hurt. Before he altered his acts. His friends were the hardest part of the puzzle.
 

what have i become?

my sweetest friend

everyone i know

goes away in the end


       He'd lost them. Somewhere,  somehow, they'd grown distant. The friends he thought would never  leave him alone and helpless, did. They still were around, in a physical sense. They still talked, but everything became habitual. And when there was the occasional conversation that was 'deeper' everyone just pretended it never occurred. Like they were afraid to say anything after that. So one by one Ron's friends had depleted. Until he felt alone. He had become his only friend, his only consolation, his only help. And he hadn't been able to do it. So he'd let his fears consume him. He'd become what, once upon a time, he'd never thought he could be......
 

you could have it all

my empire of dirt

i will let you down

i will make you hurt


     He didn't know how exactly it had happened. This thing, this pain. How had he slowly wasted away. How he had slowly deteriorated into another thing.  And it was slow. It had taken him, the one who it was happening to, a  Long  time to notice.  It had taken three years to rot away to this. Two years after he'd found friends...it had started to begin. Five long years since he'd been truly happy.
 

i wear my crown of shit

on my lions chair

full of broken thoughts

i cannot repair


     Ron had sunk lower onto his bed at the memories. Times when he'd had fun- Felt alive! Not when he'd acted like it, just to not let others know. They would be ashamed with him. And angry. Mad that he could do that to himself- TO THEM! But noone truly cared, save maybe one. They just didn't want to be caught up in it. To get the blame, to be the cause.
 

beneath the stain of time

the feelings disappear

you are someone else

i am still right here


     Emotions had almost been forgotten. At least in one sense. Long ago Ron had thought things were bad. That those pains hurt. Nothing at all compared to this. IT was an indescribable thing. Numbness was close, but not quite right. He knew he hurt. He just couldn't word it. Sometimes it was horrible beyond belief. Other times it seemed everything would be fine. But happiness seemed so far away. He felt like crawling into a ball and shaking for hours and hours. He'd started cutting, little ones at first, then more. In the beginning it had helped for long areas of time. But as Ron got further away it helped less. All his outlets, as one would call them, started to help less. Then came the point were it could only help while they were very fresh. Feelings had become fague notions. Just like living was becoming something Ron wasn't sure was real.
 

what have i become?

my sweetest friend

everyone i know

goes away in the end


      Sometimes he still felt alive. Maybe for a minute, maybe for a day, things would seem better again. And during all these times Ron thought he'd get better too. He had, at one point, even got rid of his dull razor. Mistake. Because when he'd fallen back into his despair he had just gotten new ones. And that time he'd done  it deeper...he felt like fate had again stolen his life. That time was the first time he'd gotten such noticeable scars. But it hadn't been the last.
 

you could have it all

my empire of dirt

i will let you down

i will make you hurt


    Sometimes, while he hurt himself, he would wish it all away. He promised to try to stop. But he always failed. He'd maybe leave himself alone for a time, but it got him back in the end. He always returned to his world of decay and scum. That's what it was, wasn't it? Noone wanted people like him. Noone wanted HIM. So why should he want himself...
 

if i could start again

a million miles away

i would keep myself

i would fine a way


     Some part of him did though. It wanted to go back and change it. He would save him from himself. He wouldn't let the world get in the way of his dreams. That part of him was hope...far away and untouchable, but still there. That was the part of him crying, on the inside, when he did it. That was the part of him that acted happy for people. It was that piece of him that was his guilt. And it was the only part of him that made him stop.
 

                                  And that hope was all he wanted anymore.