I knew there was something wrong with you. You picked up this book knowing it's title. You must either be so bored or so bad at reading people. Theres plenty of us gits in the world. Ad all different types too! The funny ones, the dumb ones, the arrogant ones, the vain ones. What type am I - you ask? The cowardly one of course.
You say you're curious of a git's mind, which is why you're still reading even after I tried to bore you with surface level git information. Well, everyone - first rule of being a git is that you care to look a certain way to someone. Especially some strager that relies on a book to tell them what a git is, instead of finding one yourself. The source is where you seek for answers.
To bad for you, this isn't a book about how to be a git, or the makings of one, - its a confession. 2nd rule of being a git, is you do not talk about when you care. Then you will find loopsholes and write it out instead of talking about it, like I did.
1# -
Gift and git- one letter different and yet so different and shouldn't be in the same sentence. Yet, here I am. I didn't have to decide whether or not I wanted to gift him anything. I tell myself he has been useful to me, and provided me with comfort despite how often I have pushed him to do the opposite. That is not the truth. He had done just enough for me to feel an unfamiliar ache in my chest at the thought of not doing something for him for his birthday. I couldn't feel at ease knowing that with my own eyes and two working hands - I didn't attempt anything for a day like that. So, I gave him a gift I knew he would like. A muggle invention that could spark light without magic. Sometimes when I sit at the same seat I had when I was right next to him as he opened the gift, I wonder if he really is happier thinking that was a gift from his relative. It was not validation from him I sought, realy. So in the end, this cowardly git never said anything. And I was happy for it.
2# -
Giver and git - still odd to put so close to eachother. My next confession, readers - is that gits have a lot to give at times. For me, it was time. I admit, I cheated that time. Hidden once again by a concealment of identity - under a new name, new history - like a clean blank slate. Side note confession; sometimes a git gets tired of being one. And I admit I liked it. It made it all the more easier to spend time with her. Absolved of the usual adjectives I associated with myself, I had been there when time was available to us. I set us picnics, lunches, private from others. I listened to her life, and remembered being flabberghasted that she had such little standards that just listening to her was enough to make her look so happy. I wonder could I ever get to this state where someone listening seems an incoming warm hug, instead of an attack? That comfortably conceiled identity shattered before I even had a chance
3# -
Gentle and git- I remembered when I had started losing my voice. My biggest weapon, and the best distraction. It morphed into one that mimicked hers. Shaky, unease, like she had been holding a weight that never quite been let go. I wondered if it was the right move for me to be the one to reached out first, despite me hurting her before. But like a bystander was in effect, it was only me that rushed as fast as I did that way when she left what should've been a place to call ours- along with a couple of others. How could have anyone else not seen it? Still, I urged for answers. At the time I had given up on changing her mind about rejoining us, knowing that she had already made her mind. But I stayed still, I shown that I wanted to understand her more, and it pained me to know that she might've appreciated it. Could just showing up, be enough for someone? Remembering that day leaves an ache in my chest, but I can't find myself to force to forget it. Or regret, really.
4# -
Groggy and git - Sometimes I pretend it was all a dream, and I never acted the way I did that night, for my own sake. I felt I was entitled to some answers, and part of me ached to know what had happened to him, for me to find him sobbing in a toilet at a god-awful time in the early morning. The sobs waking me up should've pushed me to close the door connected between the dorms and the baths. Instead, I stepped in. Ignored his crying, never followed up with any questions, instead I just started making crane origami's from the leftover stack I from last delivery. Detailing in smooth tones, like I was a sentence away from singing a lullaby - about takes of cranes and 1000 wishes that were granted. Encouraged in the way his sobs quietly stopped. Till this day I didn't know why he hadn't pushed me away, when I had done so before. I was never big on thanking. But if he had sense the apology in my actions at the time, I hope it translated well. I would do this over again, so long as the words sorry doesn't need to be spoken outloud. I ended up not getting muc sleep this night, and it was perhaps for the best.
5# -
Grilled and git - It was unfortunately the most easiest decision I had to make. The party was a mess from the start, and chaos erupted from each table. A true git would've watched the drama unfold, reveling at the sight of fire, and surprised yelps. I didn't know what came over me at the time. Seeing the scars behind ones scoarched back, perhaps in a way reminded me of my own wounds. I covered it up with my own jacket. It was public after all. I knew if I were in his place, I wouldn't want my wounds to be on display like that. I had brushed it off, an excuse flowing out of my tongue like a trained git I am. It hadn't mattered to me if I was seen as the unreasonable one. The one adding unnescary salt to the wound, or fan to the fire. Perhaps the bigger the distraction, the more my good deeds go unoticed. Just the way I liked it.
My best confession of all of this? I'm scared. I'm scared that people see beyond this git, and what will they find? It makes sense to me to choose to be the thing you always excell in. Instead of a version of you that might fail at trying.
Readers, were you surprised? Either way, I dont care. After I write my last line, I will pretend I have been posessed by Tamaki Suoh and claim no knowledge of writing this. I want no recognition for the good I have done, and therefore - I tried my best to be as any git would be. There are plenty of us in Hogwarts. I would hope you have better use of your time than seek a git like me. Get a hobby.
wdc: 1268
