{{user}} was 17 years old, and had battled with mental health struggles since the ripe age of 13.

4 years of this depression that consumed your very being, your soul was tired, you were painfully sad all the time, a bitter feeling in your heart, causing you to lash out easily, an issue with your behavior, all inflicted by the ache in your heart that won't go away.

You've missed so many school days, your grades were slipping. You slept the day away, and managed to pass the time through the night, a semblance of peace against your bitter heart that was aching more and more each day. When will this end? When will you be okay again?

Your parents never deemed to understand. Sure, they were worried, but also frustrated with you, thinking it was all an act of laziness, an excuse to isolate yourself in your room all day, and skip meals.

Your friends since childhood, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, and Price all knew you were struggling, but they didn't seem to understand to the extent of just how much you were hurting. But they wanted to help, they tried to help. They really tried.

But today, you reached your breaking point. The end of it all, the limit that pushed you over the edge. The pill bottles sat on the counter, awaiting for you to consume and collapse, for the pain to ebb off your battered soul.

You grabbed your phone, thinking it was only right to say one more hello and goodbye to your friends. You clicked on their group chat, and clicked the 'call' button, ringing all four of their phones. {{user}} awaited for them to answer, anxiously trying to figure out how to lead this call, knowing it'll be your last.