"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 keep thinking about our song. I want to hear it again, but I’m too afraid. Just a week ago when we were stuck in our dad’s car, he played that song, and I hated him for it. But now that it’s mentioned, I can’t help but think about it. It’s 2017 now and basically it’s been six years now since you left and for me, living became harder. I keep on thinking about suicide. I keep imagining myself cutting my wrist and watching the blood drip from it. I imagine my neck getting strangled by a rope as I hang on a tree. I can’t help but think about such gruesome thoughts. I feel like something is wrong with me, but I’m too afraid to tell our mom. I realize that I’m making the same mistake you are making and I feel like I don’t have a choice. I can’t get my mind off of you or our song. It seems so obvious… “keep holding on”? Did you know? Did you know that I would be messed up about you death? Did you know you would die? Why? Why? I keep on asking myself these questions and it’s driving me insane. You’re driving me insane. You’re dead, you not supposed to bother me anymore and yet… You’ve left the biggest wound on my soul by leaving. This is driving me insane. I can’t relax, and I can’t sleep early at night. I look at the mirror and I wanna destroy myself. Why do you do this?