Gayle Forman. Just one day (№ 233399)

I don't fight the flood of memories, and write and write. The page another. And then you realize that writing is not about him. I'm writing about myself. About what that day felt, including your own jealousy, but primarily the fact that the world is full of exceptional opportunities.
I had filled three pages. None of this will help me find him. But when I write, I feel good - no, not even just okay, I feel fullness. That all is somehow right. And I really have not felt this feeling, and it convinces me that look it is a must.