"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

There is so much I wish I could’ve said before you had your first stroke. After that, you were never the same. You still tried to be. You still tried to smoke and eat candy and walk around. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t do those things while sustaining your life. We all loved you so much and we just wanted you to get better. I regret that I couldn’t say everything I needed to. I never got to come out to you. You didn’t see any of my plays. You didn’t get to come to my eighth-grade graduation. I think if I would’ve got to tell you I was trans, you wouldn’t have cared. You always just called me your grandbaby. I don’t think you would’ve treated me any differently. Nothing ever changed how you treated me. When you were sick and poor, you still got me things. You gave me an easter basket with sour patch kids frosting glued on to newspapers. I didn’t eat any of them, but you gave me a basket and that’s what matters. You loved me and that’s what will always matter. I miss you Gran and I wish I could tell you everything. I love you so much.