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.


30. Day thirty-eight

The boys are forcing me to return back to therapy since they found out that I had been skipping sessions and ignoring Sarah’s calls. They say that it’s the best thing for me, and that I need help.
So here I am, writing this in the all too crowded office with Sarah staring intently at me. I can feel her eyes boring into me, and I’m almost afraid to look up.
She has been scolding me for the past hour, and when she finally stopped she told me to write, since I was refusing to stop. She thinks that writing these are bad for my health, because if I talk to you when you’re not really here, there’s no point in healing, she says.
But I don’t want to leave you behind. I just can’t do that. I love you, and I always will.
Nobody understands.

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