The Woe's of Ginny Weasley

I've been trying to get to sleep for hours now, but how can I with the battle that is raging inside of me. The battle between fantasy and reality that consumes my every waking moment. If only I lived in my fantasy world, everything would be right, I wish that the battle would end, that fantasy would simply take over.

People have been approaching me all week, wondering what's wrong. "Nothing," I tell them, although the fact that they don't know stings me even more, "I just get a bit lost in my thoughts." I'd half lie, it's true: I am permanently stuck in my thoughts. They believe me though, and for a second, I sigh with relief that they're not going to pester me anymore, that is, until the next person comes along. They all expect me to have gotten over it by now, but I could never get over it, it will haunt me for every day that I live. That's why I sometimes think of ending it all.

I'm not suicidal though, if that's what you're thinking, at least, I don't think I am…yet.

I could never tell any of them the whole truth. That would mean betraying thoughts I had kept locked up inside of me since I was eleven, and I could never do that… NEVER!

Everyday, I see people laughing, smiling and playing, and sometimes, I even join in. But even then, I'm never laughing on the inside, I never smile to my eyes and as for playing, well… that's only a façade.

I feel empty inside, a shell, a mere shadow of what I was before. I don't go out with friends and I don't have fun in lessons, and most of all… I've become afraid… afraid of letting anyone into my heart again. Not that I have much of one anymore, when he died, he took most of it with him. My heart has been pierced and drained by the cruel arrow that is love, loss and despair.

We all marvelled at Voldemort's plan when we worked out what it was, we all knew that now, he was invincible, because none of us could or would take the last step. As soon as we found out that the last part of Voldemort's soul was concealed deep within Harry, we knew. We would never let Harry kill him self; we would rather live with the fear of Voldemort hanging over us than loosing the one person that meant the most to us all, especially me. But none of us realised that all the time, Harry had been meticulously planning the steps he would take to make the ultimate sacrifice. But what he didn't know is that, when he went… so did most of me. It's worse than being kissed by a dementor, at least then you are unconscious in your mind, but me… I have to feel the grief, relive the memory of my times spent with him over and over and over in my head as if the saddest play in the world was being acted out in front of me all day, every day.

What's the point in living, what's the point in being alive? I have nothing to give to anyone anymore, my soul died with Harry.

As Ginny Weasley thought this, a blanket of comfort swept over her, consuming her entire body, from her delicate feet, to the very tips of each and every flaming red hair that crowned her head. She knew at that moment that she had been wrong; she was going to see Harry again, and very soon too. If she couldn't be happy in life anymore, then surely, it was only fair that she should be in death. A content smile crept over her previously drawn face and she took her final breath in this world and joined the only boy she had ever loved in the next… the remaining fragments of her heart hand simply given up.