E, I'm so, so, so sorry. You trusted me with a secret and I went and fucked up your life by telling the counselor. I was scared of losing you and worried that you'd overdose for real. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that? I care about you, and instead of that hospital helping, you just came back even more stressed and miserable from all the missed work. You spent a week without touching another person. You missed Comic-con. You spent a week of your life in a prison for the suicidal and it's all my fault.
It's not bad enough that your dad's in jail, your brother's a dick and you've been in the closet for years. I just had to go and get you hospitalized. I tried to go visit you, bring you books and candy, but they wouldn't let me in. I'm "too young". Old enough to date and kiss and tell adults about your attempt and bear the weight of anxiety of "Why isn't E returning my calls? Is she okay? Is she dead?" but not old enough to bring my best friend some candy in the hospital.
You're not a burden, E. Don't kill yourself to ease your family's finances. Think about how much funerals cost, not to mention the cost that everyone who knew you felt. I'm honestly not trying to make you feel guilty. I just need you to know that we love you, and that I'm so sorry.
love, M
