““Sometimes my sadness and my anger still feel as hard as ice; that's how I saw them for a long time, in fact. Sadness and anger, an infinitely wide, infinitely thick casing of frost around my heart. Many days, I didn't know how my heart kept beating. And there were days, I'm ashamed to admit now, I just wished it would stop. But it kept throbbing with life, like it knew that someday the ice would melt. I both dread and welcome the idea of that day. Loving someone new will hold such immeasurable risk for me- how could I bear losing someone all over again?- but living like this for the rest of my life? In a constant state of grief? It's the only thought more unbearable than moving on. Because this isn't living. This is barely existing.””
