Tonight I took you to your first show ever, we left early because I wasn’t feeling well. When we found out our friend who stayed got high, you were disappointed left so soon. I apologized for ruining your night, you replied “I am used to it.” It tore me apart. I hate the fact that my disease effects you so much, it makes me want to die… The past three years I have loved you like no other, trying to be there for you after your father’s death, the reign of your bitchy evangelical mother, and your battle with depression. But tonight, I wasn’t there. I didn’t deliver I should have dealt with my pain, bit the bullet and sucked up. I am sorry me and my condition hold you back. I love you.