If you have talked to me for longer than two minutes, then you would know that I love to read. That’s not quite correct, even. Reading is not something that I love, but rather something that is closely intertwined to my heart, something that I absolutely, without exaggeration, could not live without. I especially love reading fiction. I do not usually like TV, and I hate almost everything about sports. Reading is the only activity that truly enthralls me. There are some that like to look down upon fiction, and who are under the impression that it has nothing to offer its readers, preferring to believe that reading nonfiction is the only way for readers to gain anything of value. Though I have always believed that this belief was false, and frankly pretentious, I was struck recently by the true beauty of fiction while I was rereading the Harry Potter series.

Fiction is not just about learning, it is about something much deeper than that. Fiction reveals its beauty by the connection it creates with its readers. Fiction takes on a life of its own by the way it captivates and enlightens those who choose to divulge themselves in it. It is a form of escapism, but one so complex and stunning it makes the real life in which readers return to at least a little more bearable. Fiction not only connects with its readers, but it also connects its readers to other readers. To people who exist outside the realm of the stories in which we get so invested in. A book can change two people in two completely different ways, and even if they never speak, they will forever be bonded by the powerful ties what that change meant to them.

I had read all of the Harry Potter books quite some time ago, and recently reread the series in its entirety for the first time since I had originally read them. I did not cry the first time I read the series, and when I did cry while reading the series this time around, I was surprised. The meaning of all of the books had changed for me because I have changed. The books themselves were the same as they had been the day that they were printed.

For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with my mental health. I do not think that this makes me unique, nor do I think that I am entitled to anything.

This summer, specifically, I have reached a breaking point. I was jaded. I lacked (and still do lack) any firm grasp on meaning and why life works the way that it does. Life seemed bleak. Every time I caught a glimpse of joy or beauty it was vacuumed away, leaving me feeling emptier than I ever had before. There was no sense of reason, there was no rationale. There was no hope, because I had been so gravely disappointed by hope before. It was my misery and I. That is not to say that I had no support, or that I did not take notice of it. That is to say that I was so overcome by the weight of everything that my thoughts were twisted. I thought that maybe, removing all of that weight at once in one quick move would remove it not only from myself, but also those around me, who were trying to help me carry it.

And then, I started to reread Harry Potter. Through the all nighters that I pulled to finish the series and the tears that I shed, I found something deep within the books that nonfiction could not provide me: hope. This is not the first time that a book has helped me, nor will it be the last, but it did surprise me because I had read the series before and it had not previously had such a powerful impact on me. It made me realize that through all the suffering, through all the death and all the atrocities, life can still be beautiful. It doesn’t matter if the media are showing SO MUCH MORE VIOLENCE than there actually is, because I know in my heart there is so much more beauty in the world to be focusing on. Though I have not been happy, I had friends and love that had been right by my side the whole time. Though there will always be a struggle, there will always be relief. Though there will always be hatred, there will be love, and it is more powerful than anything could ever dream of being.

I do not believe in God, but I do believe in magic. If that isn’t magic, then I don’t know what is.