Ex Pen Pals || michael clifford

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20th November, 2011

Michael *finally seventeen* Clifford,

I purposefully waited until today to write this and say happy birthday!

Happy birthday you pale, green eyed, pink haired weirdo!!

Okay, so you said a lot in that last letter and I’d be lying if I say I didn’t get a little teary. Weirdo or not, I don’t think anyone should have to suffer and depression is the hardest kind of sickness because you can't control it. It controls you. It’s like a warzone in your head.

Why haven’t you talked to anyone though? It will help you. I mean, I can't be there to physically help you (even though I want to) I can't. And even though I was avoiding it, I like you a lot now. Which is good for you because, like I said in my first letter; you get to see how the mind works when you write and your mind, Michael Clifford, is really beautiful.

And also, you said that my letters have kept you alive or more so, given you a reason to decide to live. That’s... wow. I'm really touched that something that was worth a stupid grade ended up saving a life, even if that life was yours (I'm kidding!). So, I'm going to make a deal with you now... you promise not to kill yourself and I’ll continue writing and if you’re lucky and I save enough money I'm going to try and come see you!

I just hope I don’t fall in love with Ashton (I'm still waiting on a picture from you). If he is any hotter than I picture him in my head, I’ll have to sell a kidney and come see you. I'm sixteen and it’s time to get drunk and laid.

But seriously though Michael, please keep breathing. I won’t be able to survive without your letters. I must admit I love them.

Okay... so, my dad.

Remember I said how my mom was a drunk and she left? Well she kinda emptied his bank account when she left and it hit him pretty hard. He works and works and works just so we can eat and it’s hard on him sometimes. That’s why I have the babysitting job. It was the only thing I could convince him to let me do. He doesn’t want me to worry about him but he’s my dad. I have to worry about him.

He made me promise to save the money I get from babysitting but sometimes I take out some money and mail it to us. I told my dad it was probably someone who wants to help us out and he seems to believe it. I know it’s not too much but I know it helps him out.

So, anyway, he works for like 18 hours a day, stresses a lot and he hardly eats because of the whole not being able to afford too much of anything. A few weeks ago he collapsed and they took him to the hospital.

My 38 year old dad had a heart attack and he almost died. When they called me out of school I swore my world was ending. I'm 16; I can't have my dad die. I have nowhere to go if my dad dies. They say he’s going to be fine he just has to take care of himself and eat right... you know; the normal stuff.

And I should be happy but I'm not. I'm scared out of my pants because I know my dad Mikey. My dad is gonna be doing the same thing because he wants what’s best for me. What’s best for me is that he’s alive. I can't have him die. I can't.

The only happy thing about this letter now is that fact that I'm still insisting that Peace trumps your stupid Yolo.

Did you talk to Luke?

Peace,

Abigail Evans.

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Happy Sunday errybody. I lava you all!!
That is literally all I have to say, I'm still asleep.

Thanks for reading... You all make my day!!

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