Being Harry Potter is not as easy as some people might assume. During my time at Hogwarts I have not once wasted thoughts on what might happen after I have defeated the Dark Lord. Ever since I turned eleven and have been thrown into the world of magic, a world full of admiration, friendship, fame... things I have longed to possess for years, I have not cared about the true definition of happiness. I took the things I learned to have for granted. Ron, Hermione, Ginny – I owe them a lot, I know this, believe me. However, it deluded me into thinking that friendship was all I needed, all I had ever wished for and much more. I was wrong, I know that now. But there is no way an eleven year old boy could have foreseen any of this. I was enjoying what I had, simple as that.

Maybe I have become demanding – it would not surprise me much. Now, that I do not have to keep the thought of Lord Voldemort in the back of my mind at all times... now that I am free, supposedly carefree, in love.

„I love you, Harry...," she'd whisper after another one of those heated nights in our bedroom. I'd smile at her, lift her head tenderly and kiss her nose softly, admiringly. I'd let her drown in my eyes; she likes doing that. She probably thinks I do not need to utter the words. She is right. After all, I do not want to hurt her by showing the inner emptiness through my spoken words. I stay with her because I know it's what everyone expects me to do. It makes her happy. I will have kids with her, someday; I know she longs for them.

That's me. That's who I have always been. I sacrifice myself in order to ensure happiness among the people surrounding me. Sometimes, when I am lucky, I get a glimpse of their happiness and it manages to reach beyond my outer shell... sometimes I feel a small bit of warmth and those are the times I know it is still worth it. All of it. It has become an addiction, I suppose.

Most of the time, though, an unexplainable emptiness clinches its greedy finger tightly around my heart and soul, making realise how hollow I have become. My eyes are not able to see and perceive the world any longer, all I can take in is ugliness and blatant hatred all around. I have failed to make out the beauty lingering upon our world. I look at Gin and all I see is a mere human, not her, not my wife. She used to be so beautiful, so full of life – she used to be my reason to breathe and enjoy life. Not anymore. I have forgotten what passion feels like. Where has my heart gone?

This is the Boy Who Lived. The boy who has never had a childhood, the boy who has never had the chance to discover the world for what it truly is. The boy who was made a weapon. This is me. Harry Potter. Not Harry; never Harry. Harry Potter.

I never noticed how much of a purpose Tom Riddle has given me, until now. He was all I knew. He established a mutual consumption among the two of us. Who am I supposed to be, now that he is gone? I had intended to start with being Harry; just Harry. I thought I could pick up where Voldemort had started to destroy everything. I didn't register then that this would never be possible.

That realisation broke me. I see now, I can never be free. I am a prisoner for the rest of my life – an attraction, a hero, a face on a poster in almost every wizard's house. I am the definition of success and bravery. But I'm never going to be allowed to live the life of Harry, I am not the person I want to be. Harry is a stranger I will never be able to meet, though I have longed to meet him for my entire life.
And this is why I will never know what it is like to look at the people who love you and actually feel something – I am trapped in a body I never wanted to be in. Nobody understands and nobody would want to listen; I am too noble to blame them.

You want to know who I really am? I am Harry Potter and I live the impossible life of the person who conquered the Dark Lord.

Fortunately, I have become a good liar.