three, four, five.
I’m getting my Deathly Hallows tattoo on Saturday.
Because, through everything, you have been there.
When I say “you,” I don’t mean the character Harry, or anyone in particular - I mean the pages of the books in which I can lose myself, or find myself.
I experienced you for the first time in the fourth grade, when I was ten years old.
You have lived in my heart since then, occasionally resting for long periods of time, but always alive.
And this past year, when I needed something, someone, anyone and anything, you rose to the task with brilliance.
When absolutely nothing else made sense, when there was nobody I felt like I could talk to, or deserved to talk to, you were there for me.
You let me live in you, through you. While I waited for the cruelly slow passage of time to heal my heart, you held my hand in the darkness.
You will always mean this to me.
You are real to me.
It’s real for us.