late september, 1995
cedric,
happy birthday.
you would have turned eighteen today if you were still here, and would be legally of age in the muggle world but you're not.
you're only a haunting spirit, driving me mad by appearing everywhere sometime telling me that i am brave, and i must go on while sometimes asking me, begging me to join you.
and me being the absolute fool i am, i almost do.
i once thought i was an expert at handling grief after the loss of my mother. i thought that grief and i were mere acquaintances that had joined hands for a while and had parted ways soon after.
i never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, that grief would return because you had not, all my hopes and dreams of us in the future crashing to the ground, breaking into a thousand pieces like the fragile glass which was my heart.
you were supposed to be here cedric, why aren't you?
you were supposed to be right next to me, and we were supposed to be in hogsmeade with our friends, firewhiskies in our hands, celebrating your birthday.
but instead you're six feet underneath the ground, too far for me to reach, too far for me to hold.
i see you, god, i see you everyday, but i can't touch you, i can't feel you. the only thing i am able to do these days is get lost in my mind, disintegrating pills and tearing pages of my old history textbook in a pathetic attempt to erase you from my mind.
but who am i really kidding?
no, there is no way that you won't be able to leave my mind, or even my heart. you have cut open every piece of my poorly put together heart, wanting to fix it but you never got the chance so i lay rotting, and bleeding open waiting for you for even in death cedric diggory, my entire body and soul belongs to you.
it will always belong to you.
june
