This letter comes after the mother's suicide. It's always after. (Patreon)

Sometimes I think if I just asked for help, I wouldn't have to die.

I don't understand why I can't.

If I just opened my door when you knocked, and sat down with you and cried. Maybe even something as small as that could be enough. There are times when I feel that close. When I feel that close to… what? Living, I guess.

If I could just ask for help.