15th time reading the series. . .

I miss sitting up all night, waiting eagerly for the next Harry Potter to come out. I miss skipping school the next day, sitting on my bed with a giant bag of jelly beans, reading. I miss being the smug 2nd grader who's the only on in her class who's actually read all the books. I miss laughing out loud in the middle of the night at something stupid Ron said, or some snarky bitchy thing Hermione did. I miss the Harry being so utterly retarded, and mocking him for his boy-ish-ness. I still cry about it sometimes, late at night, when no one is watching and wish to the stars that the series would continue on and on until I'm on my death bed. At that point J.K Rowling would come to my side, and gently whisper the end into my ear, "Harry dies---" Then I would die, and spend the rest of eternity pondering Harry's death, and coming up with thousands of ways he got there. Years later, while my body is decomposing in the ground, or my ashes long sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or inhaled by countless unknowing cannibals J.K Rowling would die, and from memory, tell me all the books, word for word, until finally I would learn all about Voldemort, and his death, and Harry's victory. I love that series. It's been a huge part of my life. Hermione was my only friend in elementary school, and Ron my true love in Middle school. I later decided I would marry Fred & George, and be sister wives with Hermione and Luna. It was my entire life for a long time, and it fed my imagination, and took me to beautiful magical places I wished with all my heart to be. It aught me courage, and love, and pain. It helped me escape from my silent hell, and gave me a safe haven to go to when everything around me was falling apart, and my whole self was crumbling into oblivion. That may sound a little silly, but Harry Potter is, was, and always will be a huge part of my life, and it makes me so sad that it's all over now.