"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

When you saw the light while you were at that operating table, did you ever stop to think that were leaving so many people behind? Did you just go for it like a moth and didn’t think twice what that was or anything? How is it up in heaven? I bet it’s great. You’re up there not feeling any pain, not feeling worry, while we’re all down here wallowing and enduring the pain of being alive. Does God ever tell what’s happening to the family you left behind?

I don’t like being mad at you. I stopped praying at night because of you. The only memories in my head that I have of you is was when you were laying lifeless in the coffin. At your funeral I was too afraid to look at you. Although when they let me take a peak at you, I hoped that you would just jump up and laugh and tell us that it was all just some sick joke. I would rather go through a sick joke than reality. Every time that I tried to look at you in that coffin, I wanted you to move. I considered even breaking the glass and shaking you violently until you woke up. But I didn’t, and I could’t. When they hadn’t put on the glass in the basement I knew when I lightly touched your hand that you were dead.

Sometimes I worry about what people see when they look at me. What our friends and family sees when they look at me. Do they see you? Or do they see me? If they see you in me then I’d probably do my very best to destroy every inch of my body just so that they don’t have to feel pain when they look at me. If they see me then I would like to ask who me is. I don’t who I am or who I’m supposed to be. They say I’m brave, but I’m always anxious. They say I’m beautiful, but all I see are the scars on my face. They say I’m talented, but all I think is that I’m a useless person. They say I’m many good things, but I think I’m the most terrible person to be alive.

I don’t talk to our friends anymore, and I hide from our family just like how you hid your pain from us. Most of the time I isolate myself in places you weren’t usually in. Although I know you tainted this world of your existence and now it can never be erased. And that’s the problem, the world reminds me of you. I want to forget you and everyone who knew you, but that was impossible when most of the people I know knows you. I wanted to kill myself just so that I could be there with and that I didn’t have to worry about remembering you. But my new best friend who doesn’t know you at all prevents me in doing so.

I read a quote somewhere that says “the problem with suicide is that it doesn’t end the pain, it passes it to someone else.” And because of that I was scared that I’d be hurting everyone I love. I wish that everyone would hate me so that they’d be glad to see me go.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I hope somebody tells you news about what’s happened for the past 5 years you were gone. I’m still angry at you and hopefully I’ll get tired of getting angry and come back here to apologize about calling you mean things in my head. I love you. Please visit me in my dreams like you used to.