So today is September 1, and I’m unfortunately still in Manila—which means that I missed the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾. And man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to have a Hogwarts to escape to. I like my life, but sometimes, everything screws up at the same time for no inconceivable reason whatsoever.
Today was a tough day. I got out of it with a headache from copyediting plus a few extra bruises, a scraped knee, a hurt ego and an upwelling of resentment against my mom after I fell down a set of stairs (I just don’t want to go into detail any longer, because I finally figured out there’s no winning an argument against a mother until you’re old and gray yourself). I’ve had a lot of tougher days, but today, a few sharp words from The Mother and some minor physical injuries were enough to push me over the edge. On the way home, in the middle of a darkened car, I started to cry.
In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Remus Lupin defined a dementor as this: “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soul-less and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life.”
Maybe dementors are real. There’s no conceivable reason for feeling so down over a scraped knee and a few sharp words. Maybe dementors aren’t always the scary, ragged-looking things we think they could be. Dementors could be everyday people—the people you know and love, but who, for some reason, turn on you just when you need them most.
i get you, it happens… but the next day should be better.