"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 know you are technically not dead. But the dad I knew is. And that’s the only dad I ever had so I’m writing this letter to him in hopes that he might get this message through to you somehow. Daddy(that’s what I’ll call my REAL dad), I miss you. You were my hero. Literally. Seeing you was always what I looked forward to. I didn’t get to see you much the first nine years of my life, but whenever I did, I had the best time. I thought you did too. Now, I’m not so sure. Then you moved back here and I thought that I could finally have a happy, full (if somewhat dysfunctional) family. Then you met your new wife and everything changed. You started to not care about me. And I didn’t know what to do about that so I guess I shut down and pretended everything was fine and we see where that got me. I’m depressed and I think I might be suicidal too. You’ve done this to me. My daddy wouldn’t have let that happen to me. I was his favorite person in the world. He knew what to do to make me smile and he made me CDs with songs I never even knew I loved on them. He would wrestle with me and let me make food for him to practice for 4-H. And he begged me to go to London with him because he wanted me to see the world. Now you want me to do nothing. Because, according to you, I have no talent. I’m a brat. I’m probably a bitch too. Well, guess what dad (because you don’t deserve the title of Daddy anymore) I’m finally going to take care of myself. As best as I can. Because you’ve ruined me. Congratulations. You’re the only reason I cry anymore. I hope one day I can see my Daddy again. He really is dead. I don’t know the man who replaced him, and he doesn’t know me.