“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”
it’s memorial day. we’re chowing down on burgers. i am with my family. the sun is beaming. my dad is playing the 80s station. i am content.
suddenly the opening chorus of “carry on my wayward son” plays. for one moment i am thrown back into a black pit of plaid hell and cheap one-liners. for one terrible second i look into the middle distance and think to myself, “the road so far.”
i will never fucking recover from being a supernatural fan. it is a blight upon my very existence. it has been five goddamn years since i gave up on that hell show. when will eric kripke set my soul free. when will i at last know peace
DoraTheMetamorphmagus 