“Yeah, ’cause you were so quick to speak up earlier? it mocks. What’s that one guy’s name again? The one who is your heart and soul? Octavius? Othello? Bah. I can’t be bothered to remember, either. How interesting, your hypocrisy.”

“How do you say what's in your heart if your heart is something you haven't known for years? How do you give yourself completely when all you've done is bury yourself in grief? How do you come back from the dar when it's all you can remember?”

“Hey, remember when you didn’t know that you wanted Otter to spray his man babies all over your face and we didn’t have to talk about our feelings all the time?” “Yeah, those were the good old days.”

“I was eight years old when I realized that my G.I. Joe and Optimus Prime were more than friends,” I told her. “Theirs was a forbidden love that dared not speak its name.”“Optimus Prime is a robot,” Jenny said. “Humans and robots can’t be in love.”“Oh,” Sandy groaned. “You shouldn’t have said that.”“Blasphemy!” I hissed at her.“It’s true!” she insisted.“I hope you never have children,” I snapped.”

“Because sometimes it’s about letting go of what your mind tells you and following what your heart shows you instead. That’s how you know it will always be real.”

“Otter pulls me up to the bar and leans over. “What’s wrong? You stink!” he shouts. I glare at him. “I smell fine, you asshole. I used your cologne.” He rolls his eyes and comes closer, his lips against my ear. I shiver. “I said, what do you want to drink?”

“Everyone grieves differently. No one handles the loss of a loved one the same. Some put on a brave face for others, keeping everything internal. Others let it all out at once and shatter, only to pick up the pieces just as quickly as they came apart. Still others don't grieve at all, implying they are incapable of emotion. Then there are the ones like me, where grief is a badge we wear, where it's hard to let go because we don't want to. We probably wouldn't know how even is we wanted to. There's unanswered questions, unresolved feelings. Tere is anger that this person could even conceive of leaving us behind. We are the furious ones, the ones that scream at the injustice and the pain. We are the ones who obsess and slowly lose rational thought, knowing it is happening but unable to find a way to care. We are the ones who drown.”