"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 understand your pains. People always end up telling you “I understand”, when in reality they don’t. I think because maybe it might give them a sense of peace knowing that by saying it, they might actually be helping. But sometimes it’s not about understanding, it’s more about feeling. And i understand, and i know, and i feel. The drugs, the paranoia. I know, Michael. It may seem foolish at first to try and write someone who doesn’t have an address because ghosts can’t open letters. I write in my journals, mostly poems because i believe they’re a prettier way of saying you want to kill yourself. But sometimes I sit there and write you letters but I never know what to say most of the time even when i have all of the letters in the alphabet. I was five when i heard Human Nature. I thought you were singing to me when you said “See that girl, she knows i’m watching. She likes the way i stare.” I felt special, because i’ve always been so in love with you. Even now, though i know i never met you, I try to look for you in every person i meet. I’ll miss you always. Kurt, sometimes i love people so fucking much it makes me sad too. And sometimes I love the world so much i drug myself so i won’t have to see how fucked up it really is. I always believed i could have saved you somehow. Like i could have ran right into your pretty heart and stitched up all the damages. My mom thinks that you didn’t kill yourself, she believes you were murdered. And we talk about it so much that I’m beginning to believe it too. Maybe i have always believed it. I found your music on the radio when they were giving “Come As You Are” on one of the rock stations. You remind me so much of myself that i don’t know wether i’d want you and a bestfriend or a lover. I’ll miss you always. I love yous.