A MORE SELFISH NEED
I hope we're at the point in our friendship (if I can call it that) where I may ask you for favors. If I am not, I apologize, but we both know I don't mean it.
Please check on my mother. Or, if you're adverse to her crying, sobbing, wailing, grabby hands, and desperate pleas, ask your mother to do so. As I sit on my bathroom floor, I imagine my mother in this same spot with the same mascara stains and shaky, uneven breath, and it kills me (hah, get it?).
Please tell Priya I'm alright. Tell her she was enough. And that I am grateful to be her friend for even one point in my life. She's probably beating herself up about this, Ford, and please, if you care about—not her, nor I but—a person's well-being, tell her I'm alright. Tell her that some things fall into place and others don't, and my suicide somehow falls into both those categories.
God, the funny thing is I can imagine her, you know? I imagine her sitting cross-legged across from me, and she's saying all these things. "Life will get better, Kira. This isn't the answer, Kira. Kira, please. God, Kira, I can't believe you'd do this to yourself." And how I know I'm truly ready to die is that none of this means anything to me.
Find my father, if you can. I just—I don't know. I'm such an idiot for wanting to contact him, for always hoping he'll come around. I don't think I can stop, Ford. He's my father. God, he's my father, and I am half of him. My blood, my tears, my scars; they are somehow marginally and entirely his, and I think that kills me the most.
Actually, Ford, scratch that. I can't bear another rejection from my father. I really can't. Even when I'm buried six feet under I think he'd still find a way to haunt me.
And promise me one more thing, Ford, read until the end. It's important.
A/N: Surprise update!! I really hope to finish this soon, so I will be updating pretty frequently. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas (if you celebrate), and let me know what you thought :')