You're old enough to be my son, and I wish you were. As a mother, my life has had it's ups and downs, but due to some circumstances, there have been more downs. Nothing to do with my wonderful child, but I had just always felt lonely. That was when my daughter introduced me to your music, and it moved me.
The frankness and realism of your lyrics made me finally realise that: no, I'm not alone. And sweetie, I don't know why you thought that you were. Your music changed me, your melodies will always be playing in my heart.
I weep as your bow plays on my weak heart strings, and I'm not mad at you, please don't think that.
I'm mad at the world for not realising sooner, for not getting you help sooner, for that damned stigma around mental illness in the eastern Asian countries that has crushed you and many others into oblivion. You campaigned for progression, but were a victim of regression. If only someone had been there to tell you "that it's okay, it's fine to not be okay, it feels like the end of the world but it's not, don't worry", because that's the assurance that your songs gave me during my time of need, why were you deprived of that? If only someone was there to hug you. You deserve all the love in the world, in the galaxy, in the universe. But even that is not enough, you are infinity.
My dear son, my heart is numb.