I met you three years ago, it was grade seven
You have truly made these 3 years together, feel like heaven.
But then both our mental illnesses took control of us.
We promised each other we’d get better, but the lie was told by the both of us.
We ended up where we are in this moment, where we felt we couldn’t save each other, and our happiness is went.
In life, it’s not ride n’ die, it’s die or ride.
And I will stay up all night with you, talking you out of commiting suicide!
Don’t think you’re the reason that I’m not fully better.
Do think that you’re the reason that made me never write that letter!
Do think that you’re the reason I’m getting better.
Do think that we will get better together.
Whether we’re cured a year down the road, or our success story is never told.
We will survive.
