I loved 'Belzhar' by Meg Wolitzer.

I picture Cully tromping through that high, deep snow. That’s how I feel physically from all of this. Moving through grief like it’s a thick drift, exhausting but enlivening. It makes your muscles ache. It makes you feel you’ve inhabited your body completely.

I miss her despite the fact that she envisioned the rest of her life without me.

I don’t ask what Alex sees in him because I’m afraid my disapproval will make her latch on to him even more. That’s how it works. I’ll have to pretend he doesn’t bother me and that I don’t want to drown him in the bay.

I like the way men cry. They’re efficient.

I think grief and fear are going to come to him suddenly. They’ll be undiluted and words won’t work. We’re all going to get hit and won’t know how to hit back. I wish I knew the answers, how to help myself and the people who will hurt all around me.

I’ll never be ready. Yet at the same time, you always want to reach the end. You can’t fly to a destination and linger in the air. I want to reach the end of this thing, and I feel terrible about it.

Because feeling love does make you feel superior. Until you find out you aren’t loved back.

That’s how you know you love someone, I guess, when you can’t experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too.

Because feeling love does make you feel superior. Until you find out you aren't loved back.