You wrote a poem over a year ago, and posted it a few weeks after I was going to **** myself.
You said "I feel like life wouldn't go on without her here."

Well, thinking about it,
I'm not here.

We're in separate worlds,
and you're doing just fine.

See?
If I would've taken all those pills and never woken up,
you would be living, breathing, and moving on.

I'm nothing anymore.