Dear… well, no one. I have no one to write to. Nobody cares about me any more.
I’m writing this letter in hopes Lily and James will forgive me.
We were once in heaven.
Well, our heaven, because actual heaven is perfect, and ours wasn't. Each one of us had suffered in totally different kinds of pain. One never understood what the other was going through. Even though, we talked about it—maybe not a lot, as we kept most— it was scary at first, but when familiar arms wrapped around you and soothing words warmed your cold thoughts, everything was better.
Some of us went through hell. We were discriminated against, hurt, lied to, on and on. We had an insufferable weight on our shoulders all the time. And yet it was heaven because we had each other.
We sang, laughed, danced, joked, loved, and fell in love, trusted, let ourselves vulnerable, took care of each other and a lot more things that made a smile grow in each of them. It was magical, funnily enough.
If we were suffering so much, why did it still feel heavenly?
And then it happened.
We lost it all to war.
One by one we fall.
It was cruel how this war made us strangers to one another. We still loved but couldn't bring ourselves to see our friends as anything but battles, deaths, war.
Hogwarts was forgotten, and our years of glory were missed.
Then we died.
Not together, not loving each other.
We fell apart slowly and individually.
God, it felt fucking lonely.
And now I’m lost, stuck in between life and death. Living because air escapes my nose and my heart still beats. Yet I'm also dead. I cease to exist. I can't remember the last time I left my house, the last word I talked. That is without counting my screams for each full moon.
I'm alone. All alone. No one takes care of me, no one to read to, no one to give chocolates to.
My place is a whole of constant memories. A dark room with projections of my imagination of moments we spent together. I remember laughter and it’s like melodious poison. It’s all darkness Prongs, how am I supposed to live alone when my heart all but aches? My chest is in constant oppression.
I'm tired of missing you. And you’ll have to forgive me because I will ask life to take pity on me and let me die like I should have at four years old. I wasn't predestined for a happy ending, and I knew. I knew nothing lasted forever, and very few a lifetime, so tell me why did I expect we would last until we were old? That we would be together until my last breath, instead I was there for all of yours. I guess it wasn't meant for us to stay forever, or to be separate and at least happy. Oh no, we broke apart very slowly. And I have no one to blame because I knew nothing lasted forever. No one said it would be, so why did I think we were the exception? We weren't special or different or invincible. We were just children dreaming and believing. In the end, the only forever thing was the emptiness, the missing. And I would say the memories, but that's a lie. They would die with me. Because I'm the last one that knows about us. About our adventures. About our love. And even if I did tell someone, they wouldn't get it.
Now I’m in hell, but I won’t be for long because I’ll see you shortly after.
Mischief managed
Yours, Moony.