“What are you gonna do? Kill yourself?” Written out, it sounds callous and hurtful. But it wasn’t. It was a kindness. A genuine question. Are you going to kill yourself? Is that what you’re saying? Because if so, you need to tell me now, so I can prepare. So your son can prepare. It was tough love, and she was right. What was I saying? Which path was I going to choose? What choice did I have? It was either continue putting myself through unimaginable pain for four more months or accept defeat and die. I had to at least try, if only for Skye and Jack. I was afraid of dying, but I was more
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