January 35.
Dear Dawson, this was never about you. This journal- although addressed to you directly- was never meant for you. It was meant to document everything in my life that made me how I am.
No one is going to expect this from me. No one.
"She was so happy," they'll say, but they don't realize that my smile was never real. I've been faking my happiness for so long. I'm just so tired of being tired.
Did anyone even notice how far gone I was? Did you notice how sad I was or how much I hated myself by the words expressed in this diary? It should be easy, but it isn't at all to say goodbye to a wold that I don't even enjoy living in.
If there was two things I could say to you, the first would be please just love yourself. I love you. You have so many people who think you are great, yet that can't even raise your broken self esteem. You really are fantastic, Dawson, please believe that. All of your insecurities are beautiful, and you should never be ashamed of yourself.
The second would be don't blame yourself.
It's not your fault that I couldn't find happiness anywhere.
I guess I was always meant to end and never meant to flourish. I was never supposed to be happy, or if I was, that somehow went terribly wrong and didn't work out at all.
I don't know. Maybe this was my destiny.
I never planned it to end like this. I never wanted this to be my goodbye- a stupid letter that you may not even receive at all.
So, Dawson, i don't know if you cared and i dont care at this point, but if you did, I'm sorry for what I'm about to do and please know it's not your fault. It's mine.
So, yeah, this is my goodbye to a world that never knew I even existed- with the exception of a select few.
Goodbye.
Love,
Kindley.