Shameless Recognition of Feeling

[lucius abraxas malfoy]

Property of:

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

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Hiden away in the bottom of his trunk are mere scraps of paper and pages of blotted scribblings on all things warped and vague. It is not a diary by any technical terms, merely a collection, of which dubbed ‘Diary’ for the sake of putting it’s description in brief.

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In authentication of this so-called diary, I have an artifact of utter rarity. A raw, unedited photograph of me, dare I say it, uninhibitedly smiling:



^{Quidditch Game, Vrastra vs. Holyhead. Summer 1973}

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[lucius abraxas malfoy]

Troublesome Diary,

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You will not like me. If you are anything short of half a gentleman you will be envious and if you a lady, you should be repulsed. Thankfully, my diary, you remain sexless, which would be your only confirmatory quality that out-stages mine. You are lucky. You will not like me now and you will like me less as I continue on. If you were weakened to being either male or female, you’d only conform to the thoughts of your sex and be weaker for it. I don’t relinquish my inner thoughts to the weak.

Say if you were a male, immediately you’d sneer at the mere thought of my name. If you were a male, it’s almost obvious that I have dealt you an insult, wounded your pride and made you cross for a good day as a result. I do not apologize, nor do I say sorry for it. Then, another day, I decidedly talk with decency to you, you’re surprised, but welcome it in comparison to the wrath at the tip of my wand.

If you were a female, there’d be another tip you were far more interested in. Don’t worry, I’m always up for it, always, your lack of self-esteem is not mine to worry over. Just as I can build up your human, corporeal needs, I can break down your mind, and you sigh for it. I can not complain, the feeling is mutual. I have my own reasons just as you have yours. We don’t need to talk about it. Does it make you feel any more loved that I would need you just as you need me?

Words truly don’t need to describe things that you shouldn’t like about me, there are so many, I thought it obvious. How silly. Some think they can change me, can tolerate, can like me. Don’t. It is a well-wasted effort. Why do people bother? Am I worth the effort? Probably not seeing as I will resist you every step of the way.

So, diary, you have been stuck with me. I have dubbed you diary seeing as these papers needed a name and the first names that came to mind, ‘Henry’ and ‘Jane’, were both gendered names, therefore you are stuck with diary, slightly feminine, but journal is slightly masculine, no? It’s the same bloody thing, I have no need to guard and protect my sexuality. I’ll even put a little pink bow on the corner, just to prove that point.

All in all it is better for you to just watch from afar, it will be highly more entertaining for you, to absorb, but not be involved. I’d like to prefer myself a man of many reputations, all of which ultimately consume me. I do not wish for you to be my friend, diary, you are nothing to me, just a vent, an empty, hollow vent, I like you that way. If only more people were like that instead of filled with emotions and humanness that I, too, am regrettably plagued with. I also do not wish for you to be my lover, I will not give you that satisfaction; my lust will remain to the female population for they have the hormones to sate my desires just as I can sate theirs. I do not wish for you to be my mentor, my guide, or my parental. The only things that I will ever learn is what I re-read from my own writings, you can do nothing for me in the category of advice. So sad, but this really isn’t a sparkling opportunity for you, is it? I’m sure you’d rather be inked with lists of ingredients for potions than be my mode of release. But I must lay it out to how it will actually be - nothing more, nothing less - you're here for my selfish needs.

I hope you were not expecting a pretty sonnet or charming monologue, diary, because I am not the man to give you it. Leave the pretty words to the pretty people, people who are attractive on the inside, rather than out, their words are very diverting even if their faces are not. There is nothing more profound than honesty, and this is how I give it:

I am Lucius Malfoy and I don’t want you to like me.

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