"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

You left. And I don’t know but this is probably the only time where I’m glad someone has left my life. You weren’t someone I’m proud to be, but I’m glad you were a part of me you know?

You changed me in more ways than one. You made me realize that sometimes, it’s okay, it’s okay to feel alone. Because that way, you really know who you’re having a war with.

I’m glad i defeated you, I’m happier now that you’re gone. Don’t come back, but thank you for the lessons you’ve taught me. I’ll always remember them.

Today is 6 years since you left us. It’s been 2,190 days of me waiting for your return. I’ve watched the door quite a bit since then, convinced that I can will you to open it and grace us with your presence. But you never do. My soul still aches for you, and often I am overwhelmed by the guilt. Obligatory tasks push me through the day and lead my mind elsewhere… Maybe it’s better that way. I still cry when I think about all the ends that will never meet. You took so many pieces when you left for your journey; just like you, they’ve yet to return. Things like dad’s sobriety, and mom’s sanity. I’m sure parts of me are missing too. You’re the only thing I write about anymore, so I guess I lost my inspiration. You just don’t think about all the things that die with a loved one. You were loved so entirely as a son, a brother, and a friend- So intertwined in all of our lives that it makes sense you took those parts with you. Maybe you took them as trinkets, something to soothe your soul on the days that it ... Read more

When it was announces that you where gone, I was at a barbeque with my family, when I saw it in the paper that was sat on the table, I fell to the floor and cried. You had always been an inspiration to me because your songs had a message most other songs don’t convey. When I had a bad day I listened to your songs… I still do, its like your in the took with me, its comforting to know that I’m not the only one that goes through pain. Your songs are like a hug, from you, even though your not actually there. The fact that I meet you, when I was 9 was a big factor to the fact that I was emotianly attached to eeachand every one of your songs. I wish you hadn’t gone.

You are gone for seven years now. I can’t believe it. But it’s life.

Grandfather, apapa: I believe that you can see me from where you are, somewhere in the sky. And I hope you are proud of me, despite my many mistakes.

I don’t know what to say. Just that I love you and that I hope you are waiting for me, when my time comes.

I miss you. We all miss you.

Your granddaughter.

I never listened to to much of your music but when i do it’s with my brother. He loves you and the rest of the grateful dead. Anyways, you always seemed to find a way to do what you love to do. Play guitar, even with half of your middle finger cut off you still managed to be a legend to this very day. I think that no matter how old you got people couldn’t see that you knew what you wanted to do in life, play music. Maybe you thought that the only way to show them was to disobey the rules. You did that very well, I read that your mom sent you to the US army but you just went “AWOL” and didn’t show up for role call. Even in a place as serious as that you wanted to do what you loved no matter what it took. I admire that. i may be way to young to understand these types of things but i feel like I know stuff that people don’t know about me. That I have a voice I’m not showing, like I’m not showing what I really am what i really want. Life ... Read more

Everyone around you thought you were a fighter, but they never seemed to see the war that went on in your head. They thought you were an angel, they said they loved you. But we both know the truth, you were stepped on countless time, you were the shoulder that everyone cried on. And now you shed no more tears. You’re a lost soul, i’m not sure whether you’re dead yet or not, but i can no longer see. I don’t know whether that’s because you left or if it’s because i don’t try hard enough to find you. But all i know is that the day we meet again, you will look at me. you will look at the destruction i have become as i try cover the scars on my arms. And finally i know that the day that we meet will be the day we’re in the same place, because at that moment we’ll both be alive through our death.

Sinto sua falta. Todos aqui sentem. Amo você, está se divertindo aí? Parou de sentir dores?

Obrigada por falar de mim pra sua mãe é bem gentil da sua parte e acho que somos amigas.

Espero ainda ser sua maninha.

Não sei se é correto lhe chamar assim, lhe chamo pelo nome todos os dias, mas não sei se você escuta.

Tento achar coragem de lhe escrever há eras, e agora, lendo sua crônica “Carlos chega ao céu” consegui essa aúdacia. Primeiro que te escrever parece algo ridículo, é como cantar ao lado da Beyonce, você sabe que será humilhado.

Mas pelo jeito que você escreve, aah, meu caro! Parece tanto comigo… temos os mesmos sentimentos, o mesmo jeito de conversar com o leitor, como se estivessemos ao lado dele, acho que é por isso que você é meu escritor preferido.

Eu te amo, Caio. Não digo isso nunca pra ninguém, mas eu e você temos algo inexplicavel. Ta, eu sei que você está rindo agora, devo parecer uma fã ridícula, mas eu te conheço e sei seus defeitos e qualidades, eu li sua alma. Sei mais que o google pode contar, mais que as reportagens sobre você diz. Sei que acredita em fadas e sei que deve admirar Bukowski e que adora anjos e observar pessoas pelas ruas. Sei que gosta de palavras, não só de seus significados, mas de como elas ficam escritas e como são pronunciadas. Sei que devia ir ... Read more

In the 5th of April of 1994 you shot yourself in the head. I don’t know why but i can’t believe that you actually did it. I mean, how could you, you had a daughter and a wife and amazing friends and a all life ahead of you, but you did it. You garbed a gun and you shot yourself in the head. And for some reason here i am 21 years latter writing to you. When I was born you ware dead for 3 years. I’m not part of the Nirvana generation, but your music has always been there for me, it has been with me in the happy and in the sad moments. Does that mean that you are kind of a guardian angel? At least you are, to me. I know that like me there are a million other people, so thank you, thank you for that. I know that even tho you killed yourself, you gave life to many other, you helped them not to do what you did. Some people come to the world with a mission or a reason, others live long lives and make no difference. Your life was short, but you left such a big mark behind you. You didn’t live ... Read more

since I read the book I started listening to your music. I started to love your music and I started to like you as a person. It is 21 years ago by now. This whole week I was wondering what you thought before you… killed yourself. I mean, you died before I was even born but it’s like I can feel a connection. I fight suicidal thoughts and I can’t stop thinking about how I could kill myself, but you really helped me, Kurt. I mean, I can’t kill myself, because I need to know what’s happening after that. On earth. With all the people I loved. And I don’t talk about their reaction of my death. I talk about that you will never see Frances as the beautiful woman she is. You will never meet her fiance. You’ll never see Dave on a foo fighters concert. I didn’t want to write this letter here, but I had to. I just can’t stand the fact that no one writes you on April 5th. Your last words on your suicide note were: “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.” But your fire still burns, Kurt.