His

16.

16.

Dear Chace,

I'm starting to believe that you never really loved me. If you did then why would you leave me here alone to die? I am dying Chace. This depression is hard to deal with. So fucking hard.

I don't eat much. I keep hurting myself. I barely even sleep anymore. And I keep waking up in the middle of the night asking myself "What could I have done differently?"

Is love supposed to hurt this way, or are you just a fucking asshole?

Yours - V.