Dear Dad

My dad shot himself on the first of March.

The funeral was only a few months ago and I'm honestly not doing so hot. People walk on eggshells around me, thinking one word will make me do the same to myself. But the truth is, I can't do that to myself. Not until I write a book.

From the time when I could read, I couldn't stop. I had to have wall to wall bookshelves in my room for all my books. Comics, novels, series, I didn't care. Hard or paper back I didn't care.

Love novels, action packed stories, thrillers, murder mysterious classics, I'd read them all by the time I was 14.

But my mom disapproved of my reading instead of 'getting out there' and bringing home a girl or a scholarship for Laccrose.

I knew when dad died, she wouldn't put up with me for very long. There was only one safe place left. My estranged Aunt Sara.

She was like him, hardworking, independent, socially awkward. I was to spend the summer with her.

My summer with Her is approaching. And I am not ready at all.