Entry Fifty-Four

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Entry Fifty-Four:

I cried on my bed for a while. I'd ruined everything. I'm still sitting here now.

Why am I so weak? So afraid? Why can't I just fall asleep in his arms and not think anything more of it?

It's nothing, Harry. It doesn't mean anything to him. Why can't you just live with and acknowledge that: hey, it's cool with him and: hey it means a lot to you, so it's a win-win situation? Why?

He didn't go to him room. I would've heard him.

He's still on the sofa, wondering why In being so weird and sensitive. And I'm here, writing in the light of the moon and letting tears stain and smear the pages and thinking about how good it would feel to kiss him again, and for him to kiss me back.

And right about now would be a really good time for that.

-Harry

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