Dear Death,

They say I am the champion; I am in the football team after all, so I guess that makes me one. Truth is that I do not feel like that champion anymore, not after you took my twin sister from me. I lost my other half and although I may look like I am over that, I can't seem to find myself again. I act as if I am alright, for the sake of my beautiful mother, which I am aware she still feels the loss.

On the other hand, I am not only sad but angry. I am angry at myself for not trying to convince her to stay at home. I am angry that I wasn't home that night to at least tie her up so she couldn't assist to that party. If I was home that day, I would have persuaded her to stay in with me. I would have told her that I would read her favorite book (for some reason she liked when I read to her). I would have done it even if I hated that book, which now I find myself reading every night before I go to sleep.

Other than all the anger I feel at myself, I am angry at you for taking her. There were other people in that car that you could take. There were far worse people, like that Brittany bitch who said my sister deserved to die because she was a lesbian. Brittany deserved to die for being a fucking homophobic, for being a fucking bitch. I was going to run her ass over, but I saw Claire besides her and I just couldn't kill her again. You should have taken the other four drug heads that were on that car, but you decides to be an asshole and take my sister.

With all my hate,

Alexander