Explaining that I'm faced with a choice between being with the love of my life, or saving four lives that were never meant to end.

...in the end, all I want is to be with him. It's the only way my life feels complete.

Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip code-those are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.

I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me. Even though there's no use. Even though it's futile. Even though it's way past too late.

I’m always thinking about what I’m missing. Even when I’m happy with what I have.

Life is not meant to be an open-book test.