To Rita… PV Closed

Thoughts: ✕ | Dialogue: ✕

Today was one of those days when everything didn't seem real, everything seemed superficial. Even with her friends, the smiles, the laughter, the exchange of words...It’s not their fault, they are all good friends, she was happy she had found them, but even them, sometimes, can't fill the hole in her heart, sometimes that empty spot will speak louder and she would feel like this. Even with the castle walls filled with their voices and the hallways crowded with their presence, some days she always felt alone. Because there are parts of her that she couldn’t share with them, a big part of who she is would always be kept has her secret, her darkness, only her curse to bear and not meant to be shared. So today after class she felt this need to get her feelings out, because sometimes it's so impossible to keep it all inside. Sometimes it's overwhelming, her senses, the noise, the feeling of being alone, of never being able to be herself, without being afraid of revealing too much.

So she found a spot in a corner of that abandoned place. Putting her bag down and sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. It felt like a blessing, the cold stone floor and the slightly chilly breeze that came from the nearest window. She was feeling so tired today, she haven't slept well, she felt drained and her nightmares got even more intense and frequent as that night of the month approached. Irina took her sketchbook from inside her schoolbag and started to write a letter to the only person in this world who could understand her, the only person with who she could be herself without afraid of being judged or left behind.

To my favorite cousin,

Hi Rita! How have you been? How is Beauxbatons? As beautiful has they say? Hope you’ve been having wonderful days in there, that you have found some good friends by now. I have, here at Hogwarts! They’re super funny and up to the most amazing schemes to enjoy the best of our time! But…let’s cut this, you know me, you know this days and I miss you so much!

Irina had to stop there…she couldn't help the tears that were gathering under the lids of her eyes, she felt them roll down her face.She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to control herself, letting the tears dry on their own. Once she thought she had pulled herself together enough, she continued to write,

I miss our talks Ritinha, I miss to be able to speak my true soul to someone. Yes, I’ve made friends here and they can be truly kind sometimes. They care for each other, I care for them, but I feel like a fraud, like I’m lying to them all the time. Specially in this days… I'm feeling sour, I’m feeling alone and that I don’t belong here. I don’t belong in any place… well… I belong to one place, one place where I know, I would never need to pretend something I’m not, where I wouldn’t feel this emptiness, where I could be myself without being afraid of people leaving. How can someone expects that people would be their selves around you, that people would be your true friends when you are lying to them? You’re hiding who you really are? How do you do it? It’s been better to you? You just… don’t care? Because I care…because there are days when I'm to exhausted to pretend, today is one of those days. I need you, I need our hot chocolate times and silly talks. I need to feel real, to feel your hug, to listen to your words that send the nightmares away.
I’m sorry I’m just writing you now, it seems like I only remember you when I need you. That’s not true… I’m always thinking about you and how I miss our family. You’re the best cousin in the world and my person!

Please receive this letter with a bear hug from your favorite person in the world! (Don’t deny it!)

Irina Sousa

She folded the letter and tucked it back into her sketchbook. She held it against her chest, pulling her legs up and resting her forehead on her knees. I'm not sending this...she doesn't deserve this to be my first letter. But she was feeling a little better, now that she had put some of her feelings into that piece of paper.