That's the paradox of loss: How can something that's gone weigh us down so much?

You’ll tell yourself anything you have to, to pretend that you’re still the one in control.

I imagine having that sixth sense, the certainty that what I'm looking for is within reach, even if it's still hidden.

Sometimes all you need to live one more day is a good reason to stick around.

I love feeling loved. I don't love knowing that I will always come in second place. I love the fact that at least sometimes when I am in my home, I'm not alone. I don't love the fact that it's not always. I love not having to answer to him. I don't love that he doesn't answer to me. I love the way I feel when I am with him. I don't love the way I feel when I'm not.

I could not remember my first kiss, but I could have told you Charlotte would be my last.

I think my writing has become "cleaner."