January 35.
Dear Connor, I did love you.
And, just as you said, people who love each other don't always end up together in the end. I understand that.
I know you will care when I die, and you may very well be the only one. I'm sorry for the pain I'm going to cause you. I'm really sorry.
I'll always cherish the happy memories you gave me. You probably never realized this, but you were like a match in a cave of darkness for me. Thank you for that.
I wish i could return the favor or say that in person, but I can't.
I know it's selfish, and believe me, I am not normally a selfish person, but I just can't do this anymore.
I didn't kill myself because of you or Dawson or my mother or anyone else- it was all because of me and that stupid pressure in my chest that always makes me wonder if I should die!
Well, it won. I should die, because quite honestly, I don't want to live anymore.
I'm sorry, and I love you. It's not your fault.
Goodbye, Connor.
Love,
Kindley.