“Fuck, do I love her.” She’s in every place I visit, in all the love songs I listen to. She’s in the chocolate-cherry ice cream I eat and the 2000s movies I watch and the Jeep I still drive and the thunderstorms outside my window and the quotes I read about love and pain and beauty and heartache. She’s ruined summer for me. Is this what going crazy feels like? The more years pass, the more I start to forgive you and Dad. Not because I’m not still mad at you two—I really, really am—but because I know this feeling is stronger than everything. It’s stronger than instinct or logic or compassion.
...more
