But then she hadn’t just learned to love this summer – she had also learned how to need.

She was supposed to be putting her life together right now, and all she could seem to do was throw grenades at it.

Sometimes you couldn’t face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.

Love is like war; easy to begin, hard to end.

The most haunting thing was not that he didn't love her anymore. She could have accepted that eventually. The most haunting thing was that he did. He loved her from afar. He loved her in a way that was preserved in time, that couldn't be sullied. And she tended it in her careful, curatorial way.

I killed her once and died for her many times and I still have nothing to show for it. I always search for her ; I always remember her. I carry the hope that someday she will remember me.

Maybe, sometimes, it's easier to be mad at the people you trust because you know they'll always love you, no matter what.