It seems silly to worry about the arbitrary moment some person long dead declared to be the end of one year and the beginning of another, as if our attempts to divide time into meaningful chunks actually mean anything. People wait for the countdown to tell them that it's okay to believe in themselves again. They end each year with failure, but hope that when the clock strikes twelve, they can begin the new year with a clean slate. They tell themselves that this is the year things will happen, never realizing that things are always happening; they're just happening without them. 
 This book was so emotional and beautiful. So realistic. Felt so sorry for Henry. The author was so powerful that I actually came to care for Jesse more than Diego even though he was only memories. I was burdened with emotions at the fair and many other uncountable times... 
 We were whirling around so fast that Jesse couldn't hold his head up any longer and buried his face in my neck, his chapped lips grazing my skin. He was insane, and I told him so as I wrapped my arms around him so tightly that nothing would ever tear us apart. 
 I nipped at Jesse's ear and ran my hands up the back of his shirt. His skin was sticky with sweat. He smelled like the ocean. 
 "Never stop," whispered Jesse. 
 "I don't plan to," I promised, and meant it. Sighs. Crying buckets. 
 This book is about finding yourself and believing you are worth a thousand stars to someone out there. FRTC