I know the odds are all against me and I know you might not feel this way too but I know I would rather die trying to know if I could mean something to you

i have never had anybody talk to me like this. this is not a flirty sixth-grade phone call or bantering with friends or words passed in a note. i feel that if my soul could talk it would talk like this.

This is what a memorial is: standing still, staring at something that isn’t ther

But death is not freedom. For a moment, it can look like freedom. But then it's death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

You never let things go unanswered for too long. Emails. Phone calls. Questions. As if you know the waiting is the hardest part for me.

I don’t want you to think I got through this undamaged, okay? But I’m learning to live with it. Because otherwise, the damage is all you are.

And I find myself saying, “It wasn’t really about her.” And finding it’s true. What do you mean?” Norah asks. It was about the feeling, you know? She caused it in me, but it wasn’t about her. It was about my reaction, what I wanted to feel and then convinced myself that I felt, because I wanted it that bad. That illusion. It was love because I created it as love.