[Kate*]

I want to tell you everything and have you make it all okay somehow, but there's nothing you can do. I'm on the ledge, save me.

I cried again, I'm haunted like hell, and this comes with a high suicide rate. I want what you can't give me and need what I'll never get. Of all people, why me? As much as I want to be more mature than this, there's a part of me that hopes this haunts you like it does me and that you think of me, and that it hurts. I want to cry for help to you and I can't.

Don't worry, I know you're human. You may or may not come off of the pedestal, but I know you're not perfect.

Have you ever had your soul ripped out and your entire life collapse within a matter of a few months? No? Then guess what, you have NO right to judge the way I handle it, or how long it takes for me to "move on" I lost everything to a permanent circumstance notorious for horrendous outcomes. The fact that I'm still breathing is a f***ing miracle.

His death is verifiable, it's posted everywhere. Stop fighting me on this.