This is an exclusive excerpt from All My Rage. Shared with permission by Sabaa Tahir and Penguin Random House.
Can you believe it? I am voluntarily writing something. Mostly because I’m angry. And I can’t stop being angry, so my therapist—yes, I have one of those, now—suggest I write a letter. Maybe I will send it. Maybe I won’t.
I think not. I think you don’t deserve to hear from me. Or know how much I think about you. How much I worry about you, which is especially annoying because I’m pretty sure you don’t worry about me.
Anyway, I’d like to expel you from my brain. You’re like one of those manspreaders on the subway, except in my subconscious. I dream about you. Don’t get too excited. They aren’t good dreams
I should tell you something. I met a boy. Yes. His name is Daniyal. He’s nice. Cute. Not handsome, like you, though. He’s a musichead, like me. A bio major. His parents are from Jordan. We’ve gone out to eat. He’s walked me home. He put his arm around me. I let him. He wanted to kiss me, but it doesn’t feel right. He said he thinks it’s sweet that I’m so pious. Maybe I should let him kiss me. Maybe I will.
No. That’s a lie and unlike you, I’m not a liar. Or maybe…maybe like you, I’m not a liar. I told Daniyal it wouldn’t work. My roommate thinks I’m crazy. She said “he’s sort of perfect for you?” I can’t tell her that sort of perfect isn’t good enough. Not when I’ve had a taste of what could be.
She doesn’t know us.
I wish you’d get out of my head Salahudin. But at the same time, don’t you dare. I hope you are ok. I miss you.