"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 would like to say that thing I want to say have been said in the previous letter- the one posted on the 13th of november adressed to Myself. If the person who wrote that is reading this now I want you to know how much it meant to me to know that I wasn’t crazy when I felt like that. So thank you. Sometimes I feel that I am loosing bits of myslef and they are floating away. So slowly that I don’t seem to notice until they are on the horizon and almost out of sight. I have moments where I remeber myself and wonder what has hapopened and whether I can ever get a hold of those pieces again. It scares me to think that I might have lost them forever.

I lost you, you’re gone. I thought I knew, but it was not. I lost you, you lost me. More I can not say because I lost you. You knew what I had to write, but I am lost so I do not know. Perhaps people think that I’m weird and crazy but that’s because I’ve lost you. Let’s just hope that I’ll be back soon find …

I know it isn’t fair to write this on here because you aren’t dead, but it sure feels that way sometimes. I could never tell you how much I resent you for being gone for so many years. Coming back now, to a 16 year old, when you left at 9, that hurts more than anything you did to me when I was younger. It sucks because now that you’re back and pretending to be okay, I don’t know what to do. This letter is for the dad that I thought you were.

I’m sorry I didn’t write to you on November 1st. I swear I meant to but I just couldn’t do it. That was the day I first watched the memorial show and my god everyone fucking killed it. My favorite was Austin’s cover of OCD. Danny’s cover of The Price of Beauty was amazing too. Watching that video, and seeing how everyone was celebrating your life instead of crying over it made me realize how sitting around feeling bad about what happened isn’t going to help anyone. So from now on I promise I will not cry over you. Instead each November 1st I shall celebrate what beautiful life you did have and what a beautiful family you had.

November 18th is slowly approaching me. It’s become my least favorite day. I feel horrible that we were in an argument that night. I almost feel like it’s my fault. I wish you were here to see me now. I’m growing up to be a beautiful teenager. Don’t worry I don’t have a boyfriend. I like a lot of new music now. Twenty One Pilots, Panic! at the Disco, and lots of others. I still like Taylor Swift, but she hasn’t made a lot of music lately. I miss you a lot. Lennon is super silly and looks a lot like you. I don’t see Jay and Natalie too much any more, but Jay has a girlfriend and she has a son. Her name is Katie and she is really pretty. I finished GNMFA cheerleading and I’m thinking about high school cheering. Eighth grade is really hard. I really don’t like algebra. You would be proud of me though. I love you and miss you

It’s been 1691 days since you’ve been gone. I’ve been listening to our favorite songs and I’m starting to miss you again. School’s gonna start again tomorrow and it’s so sad to think that we won’t be achieving our dreams together. I got so lost the past months but I promise to fix my life again like you did. I know I’ve been smoking again and do some stupid stuff or even not attend school but I promise to get things back together like what you’ve always wanted. I miss those times when we would sit on the couch or lay in your bed and talk about little things. I miss those times when I would wake up next to you, when we would stay up late reading our favorite books, when we’d go shopping for dresses to be kept in your closet so my mom won’t see them. I’m really sorry if I only told my family about you after you’re gone, I’m sorry if I’m the cause of your family’s pain. But I know that I’m trying my best to be better again just for you and my future. My insomnia is getting cured and I’m fighting my ... Read more

I miss you like crazy. every second of every minute of every hour of every day. I know you’re having fun, and you have most likely forgotten about your little freshman who is now a sophomore. but I love you. and I always will. you made me so happy, and seeing pictures of you make me smile, and hearing your voice makes me laugh and cry all at the same time. I hope somewhere inside of you, you miss me. Or you still think about me a little bit.

Sinto sua falta. Eu não faço ideia de como começar um carta desse gênero e muito menos como prosseguir, porém enquanto “fuçava” minhas redes sociais encontrei esse site que nos permiti escrever para alguém que já se foi. O site é da autora do livro Cartas de Amor aos mortos, a senhora ficaria feliz em saber que eu ando lendo bastante. Os professores geralmente ficam. O livro fala sobre perda. A protagonista após sofrer uma grande perda recebe a tarefa de escrever uma carta aos mortos. Curioso, a senhora seria seria o tipo de professora que nos passaria esse exercício. Há dias em que eu me esqueço de que a senhora partiu. É como se eu fosse adentrar a sala dos professores e ser recebida por seu sorriso doce. Não é bem assim não é mesmo? A sua dia foi algo repentino. Foi um grande choque saber que a minha amada professora tinha nos deixado. E antes mesmo de saber que tinha falecido, eu pressentia que não nos veríamos novamente. Eu chorei pela senhora. Lá em meio aos Meus amigos, em meio a vários alunos no intervalo, e novamente em meio aos Meus amigos. Eu não me ... Read more

Creo que es el caso de muchas chicas, pero yo llegue a enamorarme profundamente de alguien que solo veía amistad conmigo, el nunca me dio motivos para enamorarme. Para mi el era todo, simplemente me encantaba, un día me anime a decirle todo lo que sentía por el, no me dejo de hablar, le volví a decir y solo me decía que el no se sentía listo, yo aun lo quiero demasiado, eh tenido otras relaciones pero me es difícil olvidarlo, es tan perfectamente imperfecto, sus ojos adormilados rasgados color miel, sus cabello largo castaño, sus labios perfectamente echos, su voz tan intimidarte y dulce ala vez, sus manos que encajan perfectamente con las mías, sus brazos que deberían abrazarme a mi

Childhood – when things were a whole lot simpler. When the whole world was filled with wonder. When everything was black and white. When your parents’ relationship seemed perfect. When Mom never cried in front of you, when Dad never showed his fatigue to you. When your sister wasn’t old enough for a douchbag boyfriend who made her life a living hell and therefore made everyone else miserable as well. When you could run around in the dark and catch fireflies instead of looking around your shoulder for a possible attacker. When you could just have fun in school without wondering if this grade is going to ruin your future. When you just smiled and waved at everyone, their race or job or gender not once playing a part. When you thought the whole world was perfect and everyone was happy… Then cracks began to appear in the wall. There are a lot of things I love about growing up. I can drive, I have a job, I don’t have a bedtime, and I’m going off to college to pursue my dream job. Sometimes, though, whenever I watch your movies (or your studio’s movies) – which I still frequently do ... Read more