Reminders of Him

by Colleen Hoover

It’s mesmerizing watching someone who’s good at what they do. I don’t know what I’m good at. I don’t know that there is anything in this world I could make look effortless.

happiness isn’t some permanent thing we’re all trying to achieve in life, it’s merely a thing that shows up every now and then, sometimes in tiny doses that are just substantial enough to keep us going.

People say you fall in love, but fall is such a sad word when you think about it. Falls are never good. You fall on the ground, you fall behind, you fall to your death.

I don’t understand attraction. What is it that draws people to each other?

She seems like a quiet person, but not the shy kind of quiet. She’s quiet in a fierce way—a storm that sneaks up on you, and you don’t know it’s there until you feel the thunder rattle your bones.

You had me in that moment, although you probably didn’t realize it. Your smile was like warmth sliding over me. It was dangerous and it was comfortable, and I didn’t know what to do about those warring feelings, so I looked away from you.

I don’t know why I have a physical reaction to that smile, but it sends a swirl through my stomach. His presence always creates this hum right under my skin, like I’m buzzing with nervous energy.

He said love, as in present tense. I wait for him to correct himself, but he doesn’t, and then I realize that wasn’t a mistake. He loves her still. I guess realizing your life isn’t compatible with someone else’s doesn’t erase the feelings that are there.

a small portion of my pain has attached to his sympathy, and it feels like he’s physically lifting me up for air, allowing me a few minutes to breathe.

Maybe it doesn’t matter whether something is a coincidence or a sign. Maybe the best way to cope with the loss of the people we love is to find them in as many places and things as we possibly can. And in the off chance that the people we lose are still somehow able to hear us, maybe we should never stop talking to them.