Dear Harry

You've been gone for two weeks now. I haven't been coping well. The boys have even sent me to a therapist to help me forget. But I can't forget. You're all I ever think about. Your luscious curls, the way you smile lights up a room, your green eyes that I love so much. You're impossible to forget. I don't want to forget.

Of course the boys are worried about me. I'm even worried about me. My therapist is worried as well, and that's why she has handed me this journal, so I can write down my innermost thoughts. I have to give it to her every week to read over, but I just feel so weird giving it to her. Most of my thoughts revolve around you, so I guess that's why she wants to read it over, to make sure I'm handling everything well.

But to be honest, I'm not, and yes I'm fairly aware she will read this. But the truth has got to come out sooner or later, yeah? She never specifically told me what to write, but just that I have to write. So I'm writing to you. Starting from day one.

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10. Day fourteen

I’d just like to say that I wasn’t willing to go to therapy. But the boys insisted that I go. I went, but I didn’t like it. The therapist poked and prodded me for information, asking me about how I felt and what my thoughts were. I didn’t like the invasion of privacy. My thoughts were meant to stay hidden, not to end up in here.
But now here I am, writing to you.
I can sometimes feel you, you know. It’s like you’re watching me. Instead of being scary, like I imagined it would be, it’s actually quite comforting.

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