"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

Okay. I really don’t know why I’m writing you a letter. You don’t have eyes, so you can’t see or read. You’re dead so you’re not able to feel anything. But whatever, I have to say this. So you’ll know how stupid you are for letting yourself feel those kind of emotion.

You let yourself happy because of temporary things, that’s the first stupid thing that you made. You knew, at the beginning that that was only a temporary happiness made by a temporary people. But you still hopelessly hope that maybe people change and they will choose to stay.

You let yourself fall in love, stupidest yeah. Why? What are you thinking? Why you let your heart fall? Everything that falls may break or may get hurt. Insane! Wishful thinking.

You let other people hurt you. Even though, they don’t deserve it and they’re not worth it. I don’t understand what you did. Why you letting them hurt you again and again.

You let yourself die. You let them bury you alive. You let them kill you softly and painfully without saying anything.

And now you’re dead. And I want you to be alive not to get hurt again but to let you feel that you’re enough.