Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings.

Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know

I could picture life—school and everything else—continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine who would attend or what they would say.

We both laugh. And it feels good. A release. Like laughing at a funeral. Maybe inappropriate, but definitely needed.

Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings.

Actually, I love trying to figure out why certain books become hits while others, which may be just as good, have trouble finding an audience.

And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―not even a reaction. Not in your eyes.