I am sorry Hannah for putting all this stress on you. I know it’s hard. I know you’re struggling. And I know you pretend and think you have to be fine. I think we’ve been through enough that crying isn’t the only thing that represents sadness. Instead it’s that dark, heavy cloud of angst that sits right in your chest and makes you want to scream, to escape, yet you can’t. Nothing makes you feel better—not for long enough, anyway. The anxiety always comes back. The doubt always sticks in your mind. And the harsh reality of the world slaps you in the face, back into focus of how dire everything has become. Things are overwhelming. Senior year of high school is coming up next week, and you’re working four more days of your new job this week that you don’t even feel qualified or good enough to work at. I’m just some socially awkward kid, one that’s never had a job, one that is quiet and shy, one that struggles daily with overbearing anxiety. And yet there I am, thrown into a world I have never seen before. It’s incredible how quick things change. I know I’m transforming. My life feels so different, but deep down, the sadness is all the same.