I’m not really sure how to say this or even what ‘this’ is, so I’m sorry if I ramble. I’m a seventeen year old girl in public high school, plagued by the usual struggles with self esteem, relationships, and finding my voice as an individual. High school’s been really rough for me: I’ve always been an outsider, I guess. But six days before my first day of school freshman year, I was in a car accident. (And I’m sorry if this part gets confusing but I hate summarizing or just talking about this in general) That summer, I babysat for a family that lived a few neighborhoods over from my house: I was thrilled to have an excuse to get out of the house and away from my father. There were three children: Ava was four, Colin was ten, and Liv was seven. I was fifteen at the time and the bond I developed with their family astounded me: My mom and brother and I were close, but it was in the sense of survival, safety from my dad, who drank too much and liked to throw us around. So this family, they were the first real glimpse of how it should be that I ever had. And I spent every single day at their house, even when their mom, Joanne was home. We made cherry Kool Aid and played hide and go seek tag and ran around in the rain and baked brownies and had picnics and they introduced me as their big sister. I can’t imagine ever meeting anyone as beautiful as Joanne. She always knew what to do when Liv had a tantrum and her blueberry muffins were delicious, she taught me how to work their dishwasher and how to cut cherry tomatoes and she had the most incredible laugh. She knew about my dad, how bad it was getting. How afraid I was. And so she started inviting me over on weekends, days she had off, and we would do everything and nothing and she never said a word but I loved her so much for saving me. And then one day she was taking me home and I was in the backseat of their huge blue Tahoe with Liv, and we drove up my lane and a tree from my front yard, the big willow with switchy brances that my brother and I used to use for dogsled races in the winter, it fell on the car, on the front seat, where she was driving. It’s difficult for me, as a girl who loves to write, to say this because after two and a half years there aren’t any words to describe that day. I didn’t have a scratch. Liv didn’t have a scratch. Joanne suffered “numerous traumatic injuries and died almost instantly.” And then my family was gone, my perfect golden summer ended and I never saw the kids, I still don’t, and in all honesty I lost myself too. The first year was rough. Second year was rough. Third year is currently rough. But about a year ago I picked up your book, Looking for Alaska, and for the first time in so long, I didn’t feel alone. I have since read all of your books, followed you on Tumblr, watched Vlogbrothers occasionally, the usual fandom. But I just wanted to take a moment and thank you, because Looking for Alaska changed me in ways that I can’t even begin to explain, and I know this sounds pathetic but I carry a copy with me everywhere and when I feel that emptiness inside I turn to the last page, where I have a picture of Joanne taped clumsily, and I remind myself that she is somewhere beautiful. I owe you so much, thank you.
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I’m not really sure how to say this or even what ‘this’ is, so I’m sorry if I ramble. I’m a seventeen year old girl in public high school, plagued by the usual struggles with self esteem, relationships, and finding my voice as an individual. High school’s been really rough for me: I’ve always been an outsider, I guess. But six days before my first day of school freshman year, I was in a car accident. (And I’m sorry if this part gets confusing but I hate summarizing or just talking about this in general)
That summer, I babysat for a family that lived a few neighborhoods over from my house: I was thrilled to have an excuse to get out of the house and away from my father. There were three children: Ava was four, Colin was ten, and Liv was seven. I was fifteen at the time and the bond I developed with their family astounded me: My mom and brother and I were close, but it was in the sense of survival, safety from my dad, who drank too much and liked to throw us around. So this family, they were the first real glimpse of how it should be that I ever had. And I spent every single day at their house, even when their mom, Joanne was home. We made cherry Kool Aid and played hide and go seek tag and ran around in the rain and baked brownies and had picnics and they introduced me as their big sister. I can’t imagine ever meeting anyone as beautiful as Joanne. She always knew what to do when Liv had a tantrum and her blueberry muffins were delicious, she taught me how to work their dishwasher and how to cut cherry tomatoes and she had the most incredible laugh. She knew about my dad, how bad it was getting. How afraid I was. And so she started inviting me over on weekends, days she had off, and we would do everything and nothing and she never said a word but I loved her so much for saving me.
And then one day she was taking me home and I was in the backseat of their huge blue Tahoe with Liv, and we drove up my lane and a tree from my front yard, the big willow with switchy brances that my brother and I used to use for dogsled races in the winter, it fell on the car, on the front seat, where she was driving. It’s difficult for me, as a girl who loves to write, to say this because after two and a half years there aren’t any words to describe that day.
I didn’t have a scratch. Liv didn’t have a scratch. Joanne suffered “numerous traumatic injuries and died almost instantly.”
And then my family was gone, my perfect golden summer ended and I never saw the kids, I still don’t, and in all honesty I lost myself too.
The first year was rough. Second year was rough. Third year is currently rough. But about a year ago I picked up your book, Looking for Alaska, and for the first time in so long, I didn’t feel alone. I have since read all of your books, followed you on Tumblr, watched Vlogbrothers occasionally, the usual fandom.
But I just wanted to take a moment and thank you, because Looking for Alaska changed me in ways that I can’t even begin to explain, and I know this sounds pathetic but I carry a copy with me everywhere and when I feel that emptiness inside I turn to the last page, where I have a picture of Joanne taped clumsily, and I remind myself that she is somewhere beautiful.
I owe you so much, thank you.