"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 don’t even know you, yet I seem to be writting to you. I guess you’re not dead (I hope not) but I feel safe writting to you anyway. I wish i could know you. ever since that party I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you although it’s a lot better. At first I couldn’t fall to sleep without being consumed with longing, self-hatred and memories. Now its just a quiter nagging at the back of my mind occationally. I’ve acepted that if I meet you again it will be the time of my life but until then… I will wait. Its competely illogial. How I feel about you but also – even if I found out that you were in the same position as me, it would be impossible to keep a realtionship going across the country and with no contact but email and maybe occationally phone.
But this doesn’t erase the fact that I still really like you. I shouldn’t really, you could actually be a serial killer or something crazy like that. Lets hope not. You live in the next town from my Granny so I often visit the area and I have been past you school a lot since its the one that my Dad went to when he was living there and was younger.
Anyway, until we meet again, stranger.
P.s. I think that the thought of you has kind of kept me going, like a sweet dream that has seeped a little into reality. So thank you for that.