"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

It’s been almost a year and I can hardly accept the fact you’re no longer here with us. The memories we have shared were so brief and honestly something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. You were such an inspiration to me and I can’t help but feel guilty for losing contact with you in your final few months. You were such a happy girl and I honestly hate knowing you were taken too soon. I also feel guilty for hiding my feelings, I don’t want to open up to anyone in the fear they don’t want to open up; I don’t want to be turned down because they’ve already healed their wounds but mine are only taped. I hope wherever you are it’s beautiful, because here has turned gray. The days blend in and the same routine is at play. I like to think you still sit on my right on the bus listening to Fall Out Boy and singing along so passionately to let me know your there, laying your head on my shoulder so you can take a nap before we ran all the way back to my place to listen to ATL and pretend to study for exams. I wonder if you ever thought I hated you, if you ever thought that maybe I was just faking it, but you were always there for me and I regret not being there for you. In the hopes that somehow this message makes it to you just know that I wasn’t ready to let you go. That I had a slight hope maybe we’d talk again and that the sunflowers in my room are just for show. Your photos haunt me but I can’t take them down; They’re the last thing I have of you.