I can't just let this go by because I'm fearful and hopeful so I'm designing my own scenarios and outcomes for this because I'd rather it end well. This should be a prelude to a bigger, longer story, no? One where the hero makes it past chapter 1. One where a mother doesn't actually read that note because it was never sent. One where our hero catches a single, tiny glimpse of what life is and can be and manages to hold on against furious odds and for many chapters.

A tiny glimpse, a blade of grass or a chattering wren. Anything. A perspective through the eyes of another and reflection through the eyes of a mother. You against you is a battle that only you can win but you simply cannot win if the field is empty. One will always be grabbing on to the slimmest of threads and weaving a garden even through horrors and dread. And there's help. There is definitely help.

It looks like you're in that place where serenity and reason is a mask for an inhospitable calm, a dreamscape that is not a dream where security and sense of self can be left behind simply by dropping what you're holding on to and no longer or or realize that you were holding onto anything at all.. Find the thread and pick it up. Please. You've just penned the beginning of a story that many are now reading. It's the little things and, in a larger sense, this is no longer just you and your mother. Consider the offers here. You've reached out now grab a hold.