"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

Today would have been your birthday. I had to think for a second to realize how old you woud have been, but I guess that doesn’t matter because I kow a lot of siblings that don’t know each othrs age first of. That’s not even the most important thing if you ask me. I wonder how you would have spend your day. Probably hanging out with you friends in the afternoon and evening after me and mom would surprise you in the morning with a cake and a lunch later on. I’m sorry I don’t go to your grave anymore. I don’t know if this even means something to you or not, but I just can’t go. If you take me back to the day I was crying my eyes out on bench on the train station, people staring at me bacause my mom had to hold me so very hard that I didn’t fall apart, I would’t have thought that three years later I would be sitting in my same old room, on my bed that you put together, with a greater heartache in my heart than that day. I’m grateful for the days when I can feel the pain, because most of the time it seems like all this pain made me numb. And I know it’s not okay that after three years I still can’t forgive you that you took your own life, but I don’t know anything else than being angry or sad. I just wish you would have let me something more behind. The memories I have and the things you left just aren’t enough. Do you even know how exhausting it is to wonder for so long what on earth could have been so hard that you brother could stay on the same planet anymore? I don’t understand. My mom is so angry that I don’t want to go to church anymore. She makes me feel bad about it and we always argue about this. But I just can’t go. I can’t face all the people with the judgemental looks and all the people asking how my mother and telling me to take care of her. I just can’t do this rigth now. I wish you would have been here and helped me with her. When a child commits suice he leaves his mother so very brokenhearted that she can never be whole again. And guess what? I’m here left to pich up her hars pieces and hurt myself on them. Sometimes she even throws them at me and I got hurt a lot this past three years. I sometimes wonder if I’ll be able to fix this shattered world you left behind for us, or if I’ll just learn to live with it. I’m sorry, but I’m andgry at you and I’m not planning on faking something. I am angry and I ‘m sad and I’m hollow. I’m hollow as I can be. And I have any rigth to be angry, because today is my brothers birthday and three years ago he decided that he doesn’t want to spend any more on this planet. Some days are just so hard and heavy. It’s like one moment I’m okay, but then I remember something, or see someone you knew, or talk to someone you knew and I get so heavy in my chest. I feel like soon I won’t be able to breath anymore and all I want to do is escape at that time. Just go away to some place where I can be alone. Today, on your birhtday, I’m meant to go to a party with my friend that begged me to go with her. Noone even knows that today is your birhtday because noone ever asks about you. Or about me how I feel about you. So I put on a smile and make other people happy, even if all I want to do today is be under the blankets, watching Harry Potter and looking at old family pictures, on which you feel so alive. I like to remember the time when we were still family and everythings was quite alright. I hope I can handle tonight.

And I hope you are okay. I love you, I realy do. But I am in pieces.

Happy birthay, wherever you are.