Muggles just don't understand.

You would think I'm reading something dangerous or illicit.  The look I got when first brought home Sorcerer's Stone.  Now, whenever I talk about Harry Potter all my friends role their eyes and mentally groan.  I remember once that I actually got in trouble for being to absorbed in a book.  I wonder if anyone remembers what it was like before.  I was depressed, I hated the world and I hated myself.  I saw no point in looking toward the future.  I had no hopes or dreams anymore.  I had nothing and wanted nothing.  I was so close to ending it all.  Then, as if by chance, I picked up the first Harry Potter book.  And after readings the series I realized something.  Life is so precious and fragile and there I was, on the verge of throwing it away, I was being selfish.  Now, being judged and looked down upon for liking Harry Potter, the one thing that actually brought  me hope and true happiness, breaks me again.  But I'll never go back.  Harry Potter gave me true friends and family, and they are 100% real to me.    

The End

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