A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be no need for fanfics such as this.
I hate the way people look at me. Their eyes, searching my face for traces of someone else. I know why they do it. But I'm not him. I never was.
I hate the way people talk about me. I'm missing half of my soul, they say. I'll never be whole again, they say. The two of us equaled one, and the one of us equals none, they say. But I am, have always been, one whole person. He was one whole person, too. Together, we were two friends. Two brothers. Two wholes. Two people.
I hate the way people treat me. Like there's nothing they can say to help. Like I died that day, too. Like I'm a ghost of what has been lost. But I'm still alive. I'm still here.
They don't get it. Of course I'll never be okay, if 'okay' means the way I was before. Of course I'll never let him go, if 'let him go' means forget him. Of course I'll never be happy again, if 'happy' means smiling beside him.
I don't need him to be happy. But I wanted him to be happy. I don't need him to live. But I wanted him to live. I don't need him to move on with my life. But I wanted him to move on with his.
Do they miss him more than I do? They don't. Do they have any idea how badly I hurt, all the time? They don't. Do they know what I'd give to trade places with him? They don't. Do they think I wish it was only him who was born, or only me? Because I don't.
What I do know is this: If he could talk to them, he would tell them he's angry. Angry because he's getting all the attention. Angry because he's gone, and that's all they ever think about. Angry because his twin brother is still alive, and he should be appreciated twice as much now. At least, that's what I'd say, if I were gone and he was left behind.
But I'm not gone. I'm still here. And maybe, if they find the strength to look at what they have, instead of what they do not, I will too.
A/N: Thank you for reading!