You try to kill yourself.

All the time.

I don't understand.

Do you hate them, me, that much?

Mommy, you're not only killing yourself.

You're taking us, me, with you.

I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry.

But killing yourself only makes it worse.

Sure, mom.

Pop one more pill.

Make that half the bottle.

Feeling better yet?

You're already dying.

Why can't you spend your time with us?

But, instead, you overdose.

Your pills are your family.

I guess you don't understand.

I know you don't.

But you don't notice, mommy.

You're fixated on taking that whole bottle.

You don't notice your own daughter.

You see, daughter wants to follow in mommy's footsteps.

No, you don't see.

You're setting the BEST example, aren't you?

Daughter is hurting too, mommy.

With every pill you take,

Daughter wants to take one, too.

But she doesn't. It would hurt daddy too much.

Can't you see you're hurting daddy, too?

Just look at brother.

Just look at older sister.

Just look at younger sister.

You're hurting everybody.

But you don't notice.

You're too concentrated on hurting yourself.

Family should replace those pills.

You should love us, not the pills, mommy.

Every time I find you, almost dead,

I want to follow in your footsteps a little more.

You're killing me with you, mommy.

Can't you see the pain you're causing?

I know the disease is bad, mommy.

But don't help it.

Let it kill you. Let it do its job.

I hope you understand.

With every pill you take,

Daughter wants to follow mommy's footsteps.

I guess if you want me to die, too, keep going.

Pop another pill, mom.

But don't look at me.

I don't want you to see me like this.

You caused this.