You always thought there was something wrong with you. Because you don’t feel things the way other people do. But she always thought that was what made you beautiful. She wanted you to know that if you were a shape, you were a straight line. An arrow.
I learnt everyone dies alone. But if you mean something to someone, if you have someone, you love someone, if even a single person remembers you, then maybe you never really die. And maybe, this isn’t the end at all.