| The sadness is more an instant nostalgia for the unironic,
whole-hearted unanimity with which readers embraced the story of Harry.
We did something very rare for Harry Potter: we lost our cool. There is
nothing particularly hip about loving Harry. He's not sexy or dangerous
the way, say, Tony Soprano was. He's not an anti-hero, he's just a
hero, but we fell for him anyway. It's a small sacrifice to the one
that Harry makes, of course, but it's what we, as self-conscious,
status-conscious modern readers, have to give, and we gave it. We did
and do love Harry. We couldn't help ourselves.
times
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| Let them do their worst, I will withstand it all. They will not break me.
(There is another world that watches us, I'm not afraid. The angels know when we have sinned or we have been betrayed.)
You know the feeling when you are jumping on a trampoline and then you get off and it's like you're glued to the ground?
Or when you're dancing to music and you stop and you feel like a tree instead of a human?
When you look through a kaleidescope and then look through your camera phone?
The stark difference in happiness levels when you're hanging out with friends you choose versus people you hangout with due to convenience?
It bothers me that color is just light bouncing.
It bothers me that there is nothing real to see because it's all how you see it?
It bothers me that we could all be seeing different colors and that that wouldn't change anything.
It bothers me that the biggest difference I can make is changing the sahara dessert.
Dinosaurs were alive longer than us, so I guess we're noobs and they aren't? Right?
I bet they think we're really lame and still figuring things out.
The point is that I do not want to be the feeling of a tree rooted to the ground, I want to be the trampoline launching you up.
(If I leave this unhappy bliss where will my eden be?)
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| It's funny to see who you actually miss when you're not forced to see anyone.
I miss you and you and you and you but not you or you or you.
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