"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’s been months and I’ve still forced myself to believe that I’m going to wake up to a text from you, asking me to hang out or telling me about how much you miss me. The truth is, I miss you so much. So much that I feel it in my throat, my stomach, my heart, everywhere. You were such a special, special person in the truest meaning of the word.

I’m not sure how many people will be able to understand this, but you made me feel like an actual person. You were there for me when I was depressed, hell, you cried while I cried because you said you never wanted me to feel so bad. You listened to me, you remembered little, seemingly meaningless antidotes that I told you months ago, and you had one of the biggest, most genuine hearts I’d ever come in contact with.

I never believed in the phrase, “right person, wrong time” until I met you. I had a boyfriend and was depressed and vulnerable, and I wish I had met you at a time when it was easier to be happy. I’ve been trying to forgive myself, and forgive you for how things were left between us. There’s no use in being angry anymore. I just want to talk to you and hug you and laugh with you, like we used to when we were just friends and nothing was complicated and when I might’ve been unhappy and screwed up but didn’t show it yet.

I will never ever ever forget you. You will live in my heart forever.