dead

Twenty Fifth Letter

I logged onto Twitter again. The tweet was still there, shiny and new as the scars in my arms.
And thousands and thousands of people asking. Begging for me to answer, to please say something.
It hurt to breathe, knowing that I had worried millions of people.
But at the end you were a single person and look at what you've done to me.
"I'm, again, still here."
I tweeted that.
Elizabeth came over again. We talked a little.
About silly stuff, like TV shows, and music.
And I felt good again.
I love you so much Phil.