I hate not knowing what to do, not even knowing what’s wrong or what she’s feeling. I want to know what’s hurting her, but at the same time it kills me to even think of the strongest woman in the world falling weak. There’s too much for me to deal with right now, but I can’t even find it in myself to think of anything else besides how sorry I am or how the rest of my life doesn’t even matter to me anymore. This is the worst your condition has ever been and I’m just stuck here dying inside, listening to you suffer and be as stubborn as usual. This is the only instance in which I really have no other options; in which there’s really nothing I can do to help. I wish I could have a less doubtful tomorrow every day. I wish we could both worry less and could have gotten along to begin with. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Mom, I’m so sorry. Please. I’m begging you. Hang in there.

Don’t leave me.