So for a second I allow myself to look and listen, to notice the world around me. But inevitably, that leads to noticing my utter aloneness, and to thinking of every ugly thing I've done that has lead to this moment.

I can't stand on my own in a world where you don't exist.

I don't ever have to say your name if I don't want to. He always just knows.

And for a moment I feel happy. But the snowy morning is making me nostalgic for something I can't name; for a place or a moment that doesn't really exist. I think of the past but also of new beginnings bright with possibility.

I can forget about her for hours or even whole days, and then the truth rushes back like a brush fire, burning me from the inside out. The person you loved? They're gone.

Lying is the new language we speak. It's the only way we can talk at all.

As we roll and pat and press the snow into new shapes, I pray that my memories are just as malleable as the snow in my hands. Hopefully my past is as rewritable as I'm pretending it can be.

As I look out at the blurry city, I embrace the illusion that everything is fine because it's snowing. And in the snow, I can pretend that the sad things in my life are just dreams I've misremembered.

The thing I didn't realize about having a best friend while I still had one is just how wrapped up she is in everything I do. Every outfit I wear or song I listen to. Every place I go. Losing someone can leave you haunted. (pg6)

I swallow hard and yank out my earbuds. I push the tears back down. I'm sick of crying every time I see or hear or feel something that reminds me of her. But before I can move on, I have to shake off the weight of my past. Of our past. I need to rewrite our prologue before it destroys me. So that's exactly what I'm going to do. (pg.6)