Lately my mind has been like a dryer, mechanically turning and doing its duty, but with the erratic thumping of a sneaker tumbling and banging around with random abandon. The Chuck Taylor is fear and it’s fucking with my fluff cycle.
Tonight I read Kyle the 30th and final chapter of “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” and I could barely choke most of the words from my vocal chords. As I struggled, Kyle looked at me with odd curiosity. Without plot spoiling, I’ll just say the pages painted images of a funeral at the shore of the brilliant, sparkling lake aside Hogwarts.
This boy, who is so loved by so many is struggling with things he doesn’t fully understand and that those who love him cannot control.
“…he must abandon the illusion …that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from this nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really…and he was more alone than he had ever been before.”– J.K. Rowling
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