Last night when I was all alone I started thinking. I thought about everything I would do for you. I thought about how it was you who gave me the strength to fight the darkness. I thought about how much you claim to like me but still, all you can say is maybe. Am I not enough? Do I not make you happy? I’m trying so hard to fight the bad thoughts, but you still won’t. You’re still listening to them. You keep telling me you’ll stop, but It’s too late now. The depression won. I love you, maybe if you loved me back this story would have had a better ending. I’m sorry.