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“Every time I try to process her death, it only makes it worse. Grief's like leftovers that way. Like you made this four-course meal out of your love, but they only got to eat one little bite. So now you're stuck with all this food you can't bear to throw away, and all you can do is shove it in the back of the fridge to rot, or make yourself sick trying to binge it on your own." "Or maybe," Kostya said gently, "you could invite someone else to dinner. Someone hungry.” — Daria Lavelle
Every time I try to process her death, it only makes it worse. Grief's like leftovers that way. Like you made this four-course meal out of your love, but they only got to eat one little bite. So now you're stuck with all this food you can't bear to throw away, and all you can do is shove it in the back of the fridge to rot, or make yourself sick trying to binge it on your own."
"Or maybe," Kostya said gently, "you could invite someone else to dinner. Someone hungry.