Falling
That first night at felt like the sky was falling.
It had felt like the sun couldn't possibly rise again.
It had felt like there was no way anything could ever matter again.
But then much to his surprise, the days started to come.
They started to come easier and easier each time.
The sun kept coming up, and as far as he could tell, the world continued to turn.
Day by day.
Week by week.
Somehow it felt less and less like he was bleeding out.
Month by month.
Year by year.
He started to accept what he'd done.
He started to flirt with the idea that maybe some day he could forgive himself.
Maybe some day he could accept that he deserved to be happy again.
And in his emptiness,
In the hollow place inside of his chest
For which he had no one but himself to blame,
Harry found out just what kind of person he really was.
He'd faced his demons in the mirror, day after day.
He'd dealt with the skeletons in his closet,
And he'd somehow learned that despite the steps that had lead him there,
He was a good person.
He was a good friend.
He was a good son.
He was a good brother.
And those things counted.
Even though he'd done one thing that he thought he could never forgive himself for:
He was okay.
And just like that, 14 years had passed.
He no longer felt like he was stumbling through life,
He no longer felt like he was falling through the cracks.
He no longer felt like he was falling at all anymore.
He welcomed the numbness.
He welcomed the forgiveness.
And he welcomed the distance he'd put between him and the person he was.
(And the person he'd loved. )
Yeah, Harry had done the unspeakable.
But he had survived it.
He had risen up to become the person he ought to have been all along.
And it no longer felt like he was falling.
It felt like he was standing.
And that was the biggest of all of his tiny victories.
