ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
🦷
ORESTES: This was always going to happen. She's been dead since the beginning.
I. Experiencing a profound sense of boredom with life is akin to navigating through a dense fog of apathy, where each day feels like a repetitive loop of uninspired motions. It's like trudging through thick mud, with each step requiring an exhausting effort that yields little progress or satisfaction. Colors lose their vibrancy, sounds become muted, and even the most cherished activities lose their allure. It's as if life itself has faded into a dull grayscale. Time stretches endlessly, and the horizon appears perpetually distant, devoid of any promising prospects or new adventures.
Harry Potter was truly bored.
After having to deal with a power hungry dictator for nearly a decade he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The thrill of near death experiences had dissipated, replaced by a numbing sense of aimlessness. Everyone had moved on, rebuilding the pieces of their lives one brick at a time. The familiar faces of his friends felt distant as if they belonged to a past life that had slipped beyond his grasp.
The world he once knew had transformed beyond recognition, and he resented the inevitability of progress that seemed to have left him behind. Among the myriad of changes that grated against his senses none quite stung quite as sharply as his best friend's engagement.
When he had received invitation to their wedding he had only thought one thing; put a gun to his head and let the blood splatter on the wall. Each congratulatory embrace felt like a dagger to Harry's heart, a small gesture that now made his stomach churn. The thought of Ron already committing himself to someone left Harry to grapple with the reality that the boyhood dreams they once shared were now a little more than faded memories lost to the relentless passage of time.
Bags underneath his eyes and a child tucked away in a light blue blanket, he thought of ways to disappear. Despair crushed his lungs squeezing the air from his chest. The child's wails rung in his ears, he cradled the infant in his arms. With trembling hands, he tried to sooth him, longing for the simplicity of his own childhood. Staring into the abyss of death seemed much easier than being a caregiver. He gazed into the innocent eyes of his godson, desperation washed over him yearning for an escape from his pathetic life. The thought of leaving, vanishing leaving behind everything that plagued him whispered him like a siren's call. The allure of oblivion was intoxicating promising relief from the relentless torment that ate him alive.
