"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 guessed I messed up badly huh? I failed you, I was failing you ever since but then you still kept believing that there was more to me. A few weeks before you died, you asked me whether I’d missed you when you die and of course I knew then I surely would, I could still remember how that was our first and second to the last real talk and how we moved to the kitchen to fill our stomachs up, we were very silent then, we weren’t talking but we understood each other, it was the comfortable kind of silence, the one where you actually just here the air breathing as well. But now, it even sucks more because as much as I knew that I’d missed you, the pain of missing you never goes away, it hurts just as badly as you left and what’s worst is the guilt is eating me up every time, tears come running down over and over again, the guilt of not giving you my time when I knew a little of it was left, the guilt of thinking more about myself rather than taking care of you. I don’t know how I could make up for all of it, I guess the pain will never go away, I missed you badly, I cry from time to time, it’s crazy to think that I cry 99.99% whenever there’s some movie or book or anything related with cancer or death. I never got to say sorry and I hope you get to read this or somehow know that I love you a lot, I guess I was such an arse that I got lost in the moment, I prioritised stupid guys that never mattered and there you were, lying sick in bed when I should have taken cared of you. I wished I could change back time, I wished I could show you how much I love you then, it’s just stupid how I only got to bond with you when you were dying, I failed you and I couldn’t say sorry enough, I took you for granted and I guess I deserve all these guilt inside, it burns so bad, the pain never goes away and I keep missing you, I really do. I love you Papa.