This is it--what all the hoopla is about, what Wuthering Heights is about--it all boils down to this feeling rushing through me in this moment with Joe as our mouths refuse to part. Who knew all this time I was one kiss away from being Cathy and Juliet and Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Chatterley!?

Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.

But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

Life’s a freaking mess… there’s not one truth ever, just a bunch of stories, all going on at once, in our heads, in our hearts, all getting in the way of each other. It’s all a beautiful calamitous mess.

I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.