I spend all my time trying to convince myself I'm better, that I've conquered my demons, but Tix's death is proof that sometimes people don't recover. There are so many things I miss about Tix I can't hold them all in my head at once.
I miss being the only person who could touch her, I miss our middle-of-the-night chats, I miss coming up with fictional scenarios in which hot and/or famous men are forced to confess their undying love for us. When Kester told me the bad news one of the first things I did was imagine my own funeral. A funeral in which: