J.K. Rowling and I sit in a room drinking white wine and making small talk
about the architecture of the furniture before I get down
to asking the real questions.
Can I use the killing curse on myself, point my wand at the approximate place
between my heart and my left rib where everyone who’s ever walked out on me
left behind a bruise the color of moss & roughly the same softness,
shout Avada Kedavra until the spell strikes me down?
Will taking a Defense Against the Dark Arts course teach me all I need to know
for warding off nights when the sadness goes for my throat
the way Lupin did beneath a full moon when he shapeshifted into a werewolf?
The tension between J.K. Rowling and I is palpable, both on our second
full bottle of wine, probably because only seconds earlier I admitted
that if I ever were to look into the Mirror of Erised,
I probably wouldn’t see anything in it
since my greatest desire is to not exist.
I’m lying down on the couch and she’s sitting across from me
like a therapist.
Can I reverse the intended use of the Resurrection Stone
and send myself to the dead, or is that too much to ask,
or store my worst memories inside Horcruxes
so they won’t come back to haunt me anymore?
At this point the situation is noticeably uncomfortable
and J.K. Rowling will probably leave soon
but really the most pressing question I have
doesn’t involve Harry Potter or Hogwarts or magic.
I want to look her in the eye and ask,
how did you survive when you felt like ending it all?
(not mine but felt i needed to share, http://writingsforwinter.tumblr.com/)