pickI really enjoyed this book, it was relatable, emotional and VERY inspirational. I loved the characters and the storyline and I would be lying if I said that I didn‘t shed any tears while reading. This is a book I highly recommend!
4⭐️
We found each other in life.
And we found each other in death.
So I will find you now, whatever‘s beyond the sea.
“I feel like I‘ve loved you for a really long time, but it still isn‘t enough.”
That‘s another thing I‘ve learned: if you love someone, tell them.
If you already have, tell them again.
It‘s OK to take the songs you skip off your playlist.
It‘s OK not to finish the book if it feels like a closed door, not a window.
It‘s OK not to get married, if you don‘t want to.
It‘s OK not to have kids, if you don‘t want them.
It‘s OK not to know all of this yet.
There‘s a difference between those people and the ones who love you, even if you question it because they don‘t say it in the way you need to hear it. Not everyone knows how to say I love you so learn to hear the different ways they tell you. They say it all the time. Even if it‘s just, “Don‘t forget your gloves” or, “Have you eaten anything today?”
Make sure you‘re listening.
You don‘t need to be better than anyone else, you just need to be better than who you used to be.
Every time someone tells you to grow up.
Each time someone tells you to be realistic.
Every time someone tells you that you‘re too much and not enough, all at once.
Don‘t listen to them.
Sixteen years is nowhere near long enough to live a whole life, a life like Poppy‘s grandmother‘s, but it‘s enough to have learned this: don‘t worry about dying, because while you‘re worrying about that, you won‘t notice the thousand tiny ways that you die every day.
“Why?”
“Because, Miss Persaud.” She finally looks up at me, slamming the book shut with a great flourish. “That would be a miracle and we‘re not in the business of miracles. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
But here she is and here I am and when she turns to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes even brighter in the dim light as we head under the bridge, I know that I‘d follow her off the edge of the fucking earth.
And maybe she isn‘t the one. Maybe we‘ll burn bright for a few weeks then collapse in on ourselves, but Mr Moreno says that‘s how galaxies are made anyway.
“I know I‘m only fourteen and I‘ve never been attracted to anyone who isn‘t fictional-“
(Why is this mee?)
God, it‘s cruel isn‘t it? How, when there‘s no time left, you suddenly know exactly what you should have done with it.
This is what she‘ll want me to say: everything is going to be OK.
This is what I can‘t say: everything is going to be OK.
Afterlove | 
