... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?

I have an impulse to write all over the orange walls- I need an alphabet of endings ripped out of books, of hands pulled off of clocks, of cold stones, of shoes filled with nothing but wind.

How will I survive this missing? How do others do it? People die all the time. Every day. Every hour. There are families all over the world staring at beds that are no longer slept in, shoes that are no longer worn. Families that no longer have to buy a particular cereal, a kind of shampoo. There are people everywhere standing in line at the movies, buying curtains, walking dogs, while inside, their hearts are ripping to shreds. For years. For their whole lives. I don't believe time heals. I don't want it to. If I heal, doesn't that mean I've accepted the world without her?

And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it's night, day breaks.

It's time for second chances. It's time to remake the world.

At least, the sun had the decency to stay the hell away from us.

Sometimes you think you know things, know things very deeply, only to realize you don't know a damn thing.