The Breakup Letter
Can a letter be your Horcrux?
I had forgotten about the letter, but I definitely had not forgotten how dark I felt during that time. I had swum in my misery. Usually, with time, we can look back at painful situations with a more thoughtful and distanced mindset, but even now, when I look back at that time of my life, the hurt that I felt was very real.
The draft of the letter was in a large purple notebook. I had kept the book with my other diaries and mementoes of other sorts under my childhood bed. I hadn’t lived in my childhood home for a number of years but had found myself back there after leaving the big city of London to start a new life in Brazil to create a new patch of the tapestry of my life.
As soon as I saw the diary, I froze. I vividly remembered that this purple book wasn’t like the others that detailed girly musings about boys and friendships. This book bore my soul, my deepest pain. It held a part of me that now no longer existed. If I were ever to have a Horcrux, this would be it.
I held the book heavily in my hand, weighing it up before opening it in hesitation. I sucked my breath in, I knew this wouldn’t be an easy ride, but I felt compelled to face my past. I opened the diary-like ripping a plaster off a deep cut that maybe even yet truly hasn’t healed.
