Dear Josh..
Sam is depressed. I'm depressed. He hasn't moved. I haven't moved. He hasn't eaten. I haven't eaten. He has suicidal thoughts. I have suicidal thoughts.
We are no good for eachother. We are like a drug addict trying to help a recovering drug addict. Like an alchoholic trying to help a recovering alchoholic. It doesn't work. It doesn't work Josh!
The coat hanger. The coat hanger that holds the key to freedom. The key to relaxation. The key to you. It would be as easy as pie. Put the noose around my neck. Push the stool aside. Then no-more. No-more pain. No-more suffering.
Help, Josh. Help me. Save me from this hell. This hell that is life. A life that demands to be lived. But I don't want to. I don't want to live this life. Not this one. Not without you.
You would help me. You would save me. You would save me from this box that I have isolated myself into. You would get me through this. But you can't. You're gone. It wouldn't matter if I went. No-one would care. There's nobody left to care. Not you. Not Sam, well Sam's usual self. Not my family who haven't been to see me once through these whole 70 days.
But what now? Do I continue like this? Untill I starve to death? Untill I drive myself to insanity? Or do I get up and do something? Make something of life? Without you. Not a chance. Maybe ending it is the best option. I want to do it. And I will. Soon. Not now. Soon.
I will be with you. I will be with you Josh. Soon.
Love Jen
