I've never been so aware that I am made up of bones and skin and I can practically feel my bones inching closer to the surface of my skin aching to get even closer to his.

I find myself smiling. My cheek muscles feel different - they're like a room that hasn't seen light in years that suddenly had all the blinds pulled open and the sun is beaming in at full volume. And I can't help myself, my smile keeps stretching, wider and wider.

Do you believe in other universes? Do you think there's another dimension where we're happy?

Yes, I'm broken. And yes, he's broken. But the more we talk about it, the more we share our sadness, the more I start to believe that there could be a chance to fix us, a chance that we could save each other.

I can feel everything. And I want to keep feeling everything. Even the painful, awful, terrible things. Because feeling things is what lets us know that we're alive.

I just need to know something about him that will make me believe that there's even a sliver of a chance that his particles have a longing to go in a certain direction and only need a nudge.

Sometimes for me, it feels like my grief is eating me alive. I always thought that the hardest moments would be when I remember things about her, but that's not true. The hardest moments are when I miss her in the future. Sure, holidays are hard, but I'm talking about the small things [...]

I wonder what it will feel like when all the lights go off and everything is quiet forever. I don't know if it will be painful, if in those last moments I'll be scared, but all I can hope is that it will be over fast. That it will be peaceful. That it will be permanent.

Sure, there are dead starts. But before they died, they were stars.And their death was a supernova - that demanded attention.