dear fred,
i'm sorry i haven't written to you in a month, I feel terrible. it's nevilles birthday, he came over and mum baked him a cake, he looks distraught. i finally went downstairs, are you proud of me? my mental health is slowly declining. neville had no one else to go to, he finally told luna he was mad for her, they're together now, he brought her over and we had cake, it was dry, the candle wasn't as beautiful as it was when you were here. i miss you more and more everyday, why can't you just come back?
why did it have to be you?
why did you make me feel these emotions? why did you have to make things like this. why. i hate you. i hate that you made me feel like this, this has ruined my life, why did you ever have to get in the way of the battle, you did this to yourself, you killed yourself. and I hate you for it.
x,
george.
