* a few months later*
I've gotten worse.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I look like a mess.
I was doing okay, I thought I was happy.
I wasn't happy.
I've been lying to myself.
I've tried so many times to leave the Earth.
To numb me of this pain.
To not feel a thing.
Every emotion hurts.
Pills.
Self-harm.
Starving.
Hanging.
Nothing was working.
Every time I got caught.
Or it didn't work.
I had no one.
Life feels so worthless.
So lonely.
So empty.
People that did not deserve to die... died.
I want t die and nobody will fucking let me.
I re-read that letter every day.
Every single day.
It hurts.
More.
And more.
And more.
I remember the last thing I said to them.
It was the morning it happened.
"I love you guys," that was what I said.
I'm so glad it was not anything else.
