"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 still search for you, in music, and movies that remind me of you. I like to tell myself that I’m a miniature you. I like giving myself that satisfaction. You’ve been gone so long, it’s almost like it’s normal to me now. As if the thought of you still being here today, with me and my brother is “crazy” to think about. I’ve grown so much since you last saw me. I tell myself that spiritually, you’re with me. Growing up with me like you should be. I tell myself that you’re with me in times like my first date. Homecomings. My first day at work, and my first time driving. I’ll still be telling myself that when I graduate, when I buy my first house and when I’m getting walked down the aisle by someone who should be you. It’s bitter sweet thinking about you. It always results in me remembering you should be here. I see so many messed up people, living messed up lives for decades longer than you got the chance to. So many family members clueless on the love you had for them. You should be here, with me, living. Happily.