I feast on Guilt and bathe in Despair.

It will always be my fault: I wasn’t strong enough, I was too lazy, I didn’t try hard enough, I’m a bad person and not deserving of love. I can never be enough. I am wrong. I am bad. I am inferior. I am less than. I should be better, do better, work harder, overcome. Why shouldn’t I be a superhero? I’m too fat, I’m too weak, I’m not disciplined enough, it’s all in my head – not real.

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.

“Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

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