Oh, my darling. I am so sorry I let you go through this alone. God knows I was not doing anything productive with my time, when what I should have done was helping you, finding some way to aid you in your darkest hour. You would have done the same for me. Words are wind, and the time has passed. I am so terribly sorry, but I am so happy that you have found strength within yourself to keep going. I know to some small degree the pain that you were going through (ah, the joys of second form) and I know how hard it is to put yourself back together. And even then, when you've moved on, you're using tape to fix shattered glass and you feel ugly and broken but everyone keeps going about their lives like there's nothing wrong and you feel like screaming and crying; I know. I'm sorry that I forgot how painful it is. I love you, my darling. And I know it doesn't count for much, it's not much of a lifeline in a choking, bottomless sea of your own tears and shame, but it's got to count for something.
