I want to help.

That’s what I’ve always wanted to do.

I want to matter.

I’ve made friends along the way that I just wanted to talk to. Talking is what I do. I wanted to help people.

I’ve seen things happen and I’ve seen friendships fall apart because I stopped mattering to them, and it really hurts, y'know?

I’ve watched as my opinions and thoughts started being less and less impactful to others, until eventually I didn’t really need to say anything anymore.

I wanted to help.

I’ve talked friends out of suicide, and I have fucked up and didn’t talk enough to one.

I tried to help.

I just wanted to understand those what those that I knew were going through, and I wanted to make things better for them.

In many cases, I generally feel I’m making things worse.

I’ve hurt so many others, and I just want to fix things.

If I just said the right phrase, or if I just apologised enough then maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten others into this mess and some of you would still be around.

I just want a chance to know that I’m not just here to stir the pot or fuck up people’s credibility or  to just the plain being an ass.

I just wanted to make you happy.

All of you.

…

I’m sorry.

The number is six.

Six people.