Dear Fred,
I can't stand this. I can't. I can't! I can't do anything without something reminding me of you. I look at Ron, he reminds me of you. I look at Ginny, she reminds me of you. I look at everyone in our family, they remind me of you. I look at Harry and Hermione they remind me of you. And Angelina and Oliver and Katie and Alicia and just everything. Our room. Diagon Alley. The joke shop. The kitchen. A Quidditch stadium. Every single thing reminds me of you. It's tearing me apart, Fred. It really is.
Nothing's the same. I'm not the same person. Neither are Mum or Dad or Ginny or Ron or Percy or Bill or Charlie or Harry or Hermione. We've all changed so much since you died. The house is quieter. There isn't any bangs or booms coming from anywhere, no laughter, no smiles, even. I can't smile, Fred. I can't laugh. I can't crack jokes. I can't cast a patronus, anymore. All of my happy memories are with you. And you aren't here anymore. And that just kills me inside. I'd be dead if I ever came upon a dementor.
I've barely left our room, Fred. Why am I still saying "our?" It's my room now, because you're not here to share it with me. You're not here to share it with me anymore. You're not here to create anymore fun and crazy memories. Not here to play pranks on people and scheme and create more prank items. Not here to help me run the joke shop. The joke shop that's closed, and will probably be closed forever now.
You're probably ashamed of me, aren't you? Very ashamed, because I'm acting this way. Ashamed, because I feel like I can't go on. Ashamed, because I'm disappointing our customers. Fred, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
I just miss you so much, Fred. I miss you so much!
Love,
Georgie
