The language of solace, and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.

Looking at her, I thought again how beautiful she was - even in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup, she was breathtaking. So much so that it was hard to believe she could ever have looked at herself and seen anything else.

But all the love in the world won't save a sinking ship. You have to either bail or jump overboard.

Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn't. But understanding... that's where things get sticky.

He was the closest thing I'd ever had to something, or someone, that mattered. But in the end, close didn't count. You were either in, or you weren't.

Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.

None of it meant anything, and all of it was important.