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Dear Angel,

I don't know how to say this. Sincerely, I'm ashamed of myself. It fucking sucks writting for someone, specially when that "someone" is dead. My writting skills are shit, I can't write anything good.

Well, at least, I know how to breathe.

Unfortunately.

I had enough. I'm shocking on my own words like I have something around my neck. Something that doesn't let me breathe. I don't want to live anymore. I just want to sleep. I don't know what you think about my misery. I'm whining, I know. I'm sorry, I'm just so confused, so lost, so alone, so dark. And I think I'm not able to live with that.

Are you still breathing? Wake up, listen to my voice and wake up. Come back. Legends never die, you're just on tour, singing and travelling around the world. You're breathing. I'm pretty sure of that. You're hiding. And when we think you'd never come back, you just jump to the stage and scream "Hey motherfuckers, did you miss me?" I'm pretty sure you're gonna wake up. And then you'll smile and laugh. That's what Mitch does.

It hurts breathing. It hurts being here. It hurts seeing people laughing. I mean, you're dead and some people don't give a fuck about it! People who don't know how much important you are.

The first month will always be a sad day for me, so will the 17th, the 2nd, the 19th, and the 37th. So will the rest of my life.

A hero, an idol, a daddy, a husband, a friend, a son. A legend.  My Mitch.

Let's admit it: I can't do anything to change your death. If I could swap our lifes, I would do it. In a heartbeat, no question.

Your fans, your band mates and all the people who helped you, they were your second family.  And Kenadee? And Jolie? Your parents? Think about your family. Your precious family. The family you love so much. Think about them. Think about them and open your eyes. Hold my hand.

I have to move on. Alone, without you. I'm trying to breathe, but the rope is hurting my neck. My fingers are covered in blood. I'm not scared of dying. I'm already dead. "With every breathe you take you're dying". I'm falling apart. The rope doesn't let me breathe...

I'm sick.

I'm writting letters to a dead guy.

Whatever.

Mitch, I love you. More than I love anything. With all the feeling and all my heart, I love you. Beyond universes, stars and oceans. When I look at the stars, I see how much they shine. They shine for me. Like you shined. The perfect guy. The guy who cared about me.

And, for you, I promise: I won't give up. Never, ever give up. For you, motherfucker, I'll keep fighting.

This is the first letter of many. Wait for the others, please.

I love you with all my heart. Actually, you still have it.

Please, Mitch, come back home - I can't do this on my own.