"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 kills me. Knowing you’ll never know my sons. Knowing you’ll never have kids of your own. Knowing you’ll never grow older than 21. Knowing that life forever changed that day. It will be nine years this year. Nine. It’s incredible to think that it’s been that long. Because some days I swear it’s like I just lost you, I feel that deep aching pain in my chest, and some days it seems like it’s an eternity. I will never be able to put into words how empty my heart feels. How I feel like I can’t make anymore friends and let them in like I did you. Or how to even be open. Or talk about you without crying. Nine years and I still cry thinking about you. If I didn’t have pictures I would truly think you were just a dream. I wish I could go back and go out with you that night. I wish I could have been there to at least make sure you were wearing a seatbelt. I guess I wish a lot of things. I supposed I’ll end with my normal, I’ll love you for as long as I miss you, until the world explodes.