Joy, not sorrow. Laughter, not tears. Life, not death. Love, not blame.
And then it hits me like a fast, open-palmed, stinging smack in the face. Having a ghost boyfriend WAS weird
I hear the word in the hall over and over again. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Did he or didn’t he? Everyone’s got a guess. Still no one knows for sure, except Gabe, but he’s not talking. Why does it even matter? He’s gone. His, ours, theirs— ...
He was a character. A character who should still be here. Damn it all to hell. He should still be here.
And years from now, you may not remember exactly what you ate. But you’ll remember who you ate with.
I know. You can be fine, and then, out of nowhere, a memory blindsides you.
When he opens the door, I step in and an army of memories comes at me from all sides.
I look at him and realize, maybe I overreacted. Maybe more than once.
And what I think is that when you’re completely alone and deep inside yourself with feelings no one else can understand, there really aren’t a hundred places to go. It’s like if I woke up one day and looked outside and saw purple trees and red ...
I think fear is normal, Cade. Just don't let it win.
Was it hard?" I ask. Letting go?" Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real.
