When you've never gotten love from someone, you don't know what it might look like if it ever does appear. You look for it in everything: any bright light overhead could be a star.

Writing a novel is like childbirth: once you realize how awful it really is, you never want to do it again.

The bottom line is, what defines you isn't how many times you crash, but the number of times you get back on the bike. As long as it's one more. you're all good.

What do you do when you finally hear everything you've always thought said aloud?

I got back in my car, starting the engine, then drove off. It wasn't until I pulled onto the highway that it all really sunk it, how temporary our friendship had been. We'd been on our breaks, after all, but it wasn't our relationships that were on pause: it was us. Now we were both in motion again, moving ahead. So what if there were questions left unanswered. Life went on. We knew that better than anyone.

Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you.

But as was so often the case, it was the one person missing who you thought about more than the ones who were right in front of you.