Hi Joseph.

This is a letter to you that I thought about hand-writing, but then I realized that writing things by hand is too much effort and I'm probably never going to give this to you and I don't really want my parents stumbling across it.

I love you so, so much. Just so you know.

Right now I'm thinking about how terrible I am for you. For anyone. I don't think my depression is going to get better. I'm afraid it's just a part of me. I don't want to live with this forever, but I don't know if I have a choice.

And it means that you or anyone I would ever be with puts up with so much. I text you at least once a week needing you because I'm feeling lonely or suicidal or like I want to self-harm. And you always have to comfort me. And I don't think you think it's a burden anymore--I don't know if you do--but I feel like you'd be better off without it.

I've been reading suicide notes and thinking about what I would write to you in one. You recently said that being with me is worth any pain. But sometimes I wonder if it's justifiable for you to have to put up with so much because of me. I don't know what I do for you. I just think you shouldn't have to deal with this my whole life, however long that may be.

I think I'd want you to know how much I love you, and how special you are. I know  you don't see it in yourself, but you are so, so special. I know I'm biased, but you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met.

I hope if anything ever happens to me you'll know it's not your fault. My life would suck so much more without you.

I think you're so cute. How you look when you're sleeping, with a slight little frown and your mouth open just a little bit. When you dance to that one song I hated. When you have that look on your face that means you're focusing really hard.

You're funny even when you're doing stupid stuff, like eating things that are of questionable sanitation. But I don't regret not letting you eat that chicken.

I kinda wish I could hold you and play with you and be with you every day for the rest of my life. And you kinda wish that about me, which is cool. I know it won't really happen though. Life isn't kind enough to allow that to happen. Something will go wrong, whether we end up moving to different places, or you just get tired of me. But I'm so grateful for the time we've had.

Do you think if I died you'd come back and read my blog, like you did before? Would you leave comments I'd never be able to read? I think that's the only thing I'd be disappointed about. Not being able to read those comments. Dead people can't be disappointed, but I'd be real disappointed in the moments before. Maybe I'll keep staying alive so I can read your dumb comments for a little while longer.