Writing Out His Feelings

Just when you think that everything is going well, just when you think that nothing could possibly get better, your world completely crashes. Everything that was once good is now horrible, things that were getting better are now for the worse, and you have no one to turn to for help. Absolutely no one. No one knows what you're going through, what you're thinking, and least of all, how you're feeling. And you're left to dwell in your own despair, alone and helpless.

And that's when everything has been going well. Now imagine if your world was not so great and it crashed. When you've constantly had to outlive many dangers and hurtle many obstacles just to stay alive. That would be a living hell.

That is what it's now like for me.

My life, ever since I turned eleven, has been nothing short of chaotic, a whirlwind of pain, fear, torture, and most of all, the omnipresent expectation that I'm supposed to be someone great. But most of all it's been fear. Constant fear for my life, for the lives of my friends and those closest to me. But at least we have had no true threat of a world of terror in the past.

But now, the once safe world has collapsed. All hell has broken loose. Voldemort has risen again. And I was powerless to stop him. If I'm supposed to the "savior of the wizarding world", why couldn't I stop him? Why did I sit back and let him some back to life before my very eyes? And now, because of my weakness, Voldemort's Reign of Terror will commence under his rule, "greater and more terrible than ever before". And now, everyone will expect me to stop him.

Everyone, from the time I was born, has held me up on this pedestal, expecting that since I had "defeated" the Dark Lord once, I will defeat him again. I will bear the troubles of the world, and fight to save the world. But is that what I'm really meant to do? Am I really supposed to fight him and stop his power from spreading?

And what about a normal life? The past four years have been spent worrying about the state of my own existence rather than, say, worrying about whether or not I'll pass my next Charms exam or just idly passing time with Ron and Hermione. But no, I've spent my time worrying about the world, my life, and the forces of evil at work.

Okay, that last sentence sounds like something out of a really bad Muggle sci-fi movie. But I can't come up with anything better.

It's times like these when I just want to kill myself. Just end all the worrying and pain and suffering in a heartbeat, escaping the troubles that have been haunting me for the past four years of my life.

But then I think that would be too easy, and it wouldn't really solve anything. It's cowardly, not to mention stupid. I mean, why would anyone waste their time doing himself or herself in? And how would Ron and Hermione react? And the Weasleys and Sirius? They'd be distraught. And if I killed myself, I could just hear Malfoy say, "So typical. The Boy Who Lived has so much angst of bearing the world's burden that he's now the Boy Who Killed Himself. How could I not see that coming? It's too predictable" I would not like to give him that kind of satisfaction.

So now that death's not a solution, I guess that I just need to suck it up and stop feeling sorry for myself and move on. And as I have just wrote that, I remember something Dumbledore said to me in my first year: "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." So I should live then.

I will, somehow, get through this. I don't know how yet, but I can get over my anger, frustration and all the anxiety building up through the years and make it through these tough times. I will stand up straight with my head up, not towards the ground, ready for anything. No longer will I wallow in self-pity. I will be strong and stand my own ground.

I guess that writing your feelings out does ease the pain a bit after all.