"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I never met you.

I did know your younger sister.

She was one of the nicest people in our class. When I found out you died the way you did I felt horrible. All I could think of is the fact that I could of been you a few years before. But there I was. Socially awkward, no really accepted at school or home, and with so much self hate it could drive anyone else to where you where then and where I was those years ago…

I remember seeing your picture on that little funeral pamphlet they give out at those kinds of things. You were really pretty. You looked like you were gonna go places. Like one day you’d meet a man who loved you until the stars fell and you two would have many children, and you would have a while picket fenced house away from Chicago where the air is fresh and the scenery is green

Your sister is doing good. She misses you. But she’s around a ton a people who love and care for her so so much.

Something I sorta wish I had. Things are sorta good now I have a friend who makes everything better. She made me feel like I matter but I still feel lonely. I feel like I don’t belong. Like things won’t get better. If my life were a book I feel like it would most likely be a tragedy or a seriously toned and realistic down Stephen King novel. But then again it wouldn’t be a Stephen King novel would it. Unlike the whole white picket fence country side scene I doubt there is anything like that out there for me. I’m too… well like me.

I can only hope things get good and that you’re happy or okay where ever you are or what not…