"On to" vs "onto"
"In to" vs "into"
This is a subtle one. I use "onto" or "into" if something is moving onto or into something. If the preposition doesn't involve motion, it's probably because it's part of the verb. For example, you can log on to a website, and "log on" is a verb phrase. You can hold on to a grudge, and "hold on" is the verb. "On" belongs with the verb, then, not the preposition. One more case is "I'm onto you," as in, "I know what you're up to." That's a different meaning of "onto," and it should never be written as two words. Similarly, changing "into" a new form uses one word.

While we're here, let me also tell you that a lot of the things your English teacher taught you are lies. Passive voice is fine, just a little bland and sometimes awkward. "He" is quickly ceasing to be an acceptable singular pronoun for an unknown person of unknown gender, and singular "they" is coming back into use, though it's still uncommon in formal contexts. Ending sentences with prepositions is fine if they're part of verb phrases.

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I survive until next Saturday. I write songs all morning with Avi. I'm really tempted to cancel therapy because this already feels incredibly therapeutic, but I missed last week. This week, I can't really bring myself to face anything head-on. I can't bring myself to admit out loud that I'm hoping Alex will come back, because I'm afraid it won't sound convincing enough, and I don't want to think about what I've lost.

"People mistake me for an extrovert sometimes," I tell Felicia. I can be really gregarious when I'm in my element. My voice gets louder, I smile wide, and I become really theatrical and expressive. I'm happy when I'm alone too, though. I can entertain myself. Company, even when I'm really enjoying it, is draining. There are some people, though, like my family, that I can be around for any amount of time. It takes years to reach that point with friends. Scott and I had known each other for four years when his parents went on vacation in Europe for a week and left him with me. By the end of the week, even after knowing him so long and getting along so well, I was tired of him. I wanted him gone so I could do solitary activities like browsing the web, reading, writing, and drawing. It took about six years with Scott, and it wasn't until eight years in that I felt like he could stay all month without it troubling me. When we lived together, it felt perfectly natural.

Being in Pentatonix and spending our entire lives together really forced the whole process to speed up with Kevin and Avi, and with Kirstie, who was already really close to me. With Alex, having lived with him on and off (because of tour) made it a pretty easy transition. I got about 90% of the way to where I wanted to be. I still took time to myself to recharge most days, but I needed less and less away from him.

Extroverts are always making friends, but I wonder sometimes how much those friendships can really mean. It takes me years to build a relationship. I keep building them, and they keep splitting, and it's going to take me years to forge another of the same quality. It's going to be years before I feel like I belong with another person. I'm not ready to start yet. I have three, well, two and a half, more months until I have to try to move on. Meanwhile, I'm reconnecting with Avi long-distance a bit, and he's exactly the kind of low-stress, easygoing person I need.

Rambling to Felicia doesn't make me feel much better today, but she affirms my choices. I'm right not to press Alex. I'm right to lean on Avi. I'm right to stay away from Scott and all his drama. I'll be happy in the end, she tells me.

Aaron sends a list of five apartments, each with a paragraph summary of its pros and cons. I'm literally so spoiled. The closest I've had to a personal assistant before was Esther, and apartment shopping for someone else was way beneath her pay grade. Aaron's not half as experienced or competent, but he wants to impress me, not because he's a fan, particularly, but because I'm famous and he must want something out of Hollywood. In any case, I'm impressed. I could live in any of these apartments. The one with the matte black brick and the spiral staircase leading up to the loft particularly captures my attention, though. It's gorgeous, and it allows cats as long as I pay a higher deposit. It's smaller than the others, but Aaron was probably looking for two-person apartments.

He doesn't know. Nobody knows yet. I tweeted "soooooo busy this weeek" from my main, so the fans aren't reading too much into things yet. They know Avi and Jake were in town, but it hasn't gotten out that I went to Scott's house again or that I've been staying in a hotel. This place is full of businesspeople from out of town, and I think a few have recognized me, but nobody's taken pictures or anything.

I thought moving alone would be the saddest experience, but it actually feels really empowering. I rent the apartment myself. I'm independent. I pick up a U-Haul and load my own things. I'm strong. I unpack everything right away. I'm proactive. I arrange everything just how I want it. I'm in control.

I'm not really in control, though. The fans figure out after a few weeks that Alex and I aren't together anymore. I stop logging into Twitter. It's a mess. It's like all the Instagram fans migrated there or something.

I work up the resolve to call Alex eventually, and he brings Wyatt to my apartment. Part of my thinking was that if he had a reason to stop by, he'd be more likely to return, whether as a friend or as more. I miss him. I get a chance to thank him for sending Avi, and to tell him he can come by any time, and then he's gone again.

I feel hollow, like my soul is too dried up to fill my body anymore. Time heals all wounds, but that's not really as comforting as it sounds. If you lose an arm, it heals, but you're still never getting your arm back. If you lose a person, you stop bleeding after a while, but they're still gone. You still have to learn to live without them. I'm not there yet. I'm just going through the motions and trying not to get blood everywhere.

Scott calls every day for a few weeks. I ignore him. On one hand, I feel bad for him. He was so afraid of me leaving. I can tell from his messages that he's upset. I'm sure he's figured out that Alex and I aren't together anymore, and it seems like he really wants to talk to me about something, but also he's just worried about me. He's literally the last person in the world I want to talk to about it, though.

I'm taking a break after this movie. I've asked my agent not to book anything for me. I need to think long and hard about what I want to do with the rest of my life. It's a hard question because it's the wrong question. Whether I'm singing, acting, or flipping burgers doesn't matter as much as who I'm doing it with. Maybe I'll go work at McDonald's for a while. Maybe I'll meet nice people there. They won't stick around for the eight years it'll take to get to know them properly, though. I wanted something to last. Maybe that's what I need to prioritize. Or maybe prioritizing that has been the problem all along, and I need to live in the moment because nothing lasts forever. Bleh. I want a smoothie.

Work out, then smoothie. The apartments have a fitness center on the ground floor, and I hear Beyoncé blasting out of the speakers a soon as I open the door. Tall, dark, and handsome is curling barbells. He's hot. But he's no Alex.

"Sorry about the music." He pauses his iPod, which he's somehow connected wirelessly to the room. "I'll run upstairs and grab headphones."

"Don't you dare."

He smiles at that and reaches out a hand, looking up coyly. He's into me. "I'm Alex." Nope nope nopity nope nope no. Why does he have to have the same name? The universe is mocking me.

"Mitch," I introduce myself. "Do you have a middle name, Alex? Maybe a nickname?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

I walked right into that. "Right. Um. Keep playing Beyoncé, then, Eugene." I grab the nearest jump rope to get my workout over as fast as possible and force some distance between us. I'm a genius. He shows off the whole time and keeps sneaking glances, but I close my eyes and keep jumping until it's automatic. I wish I were jumping onstage. I wish I were singing.

"I take it you're a fan?" he asks mirthfully. I kind of forgot about him and maybe a little bit started lip-syncing. I hide my face and nod. "I met her once," he brags.

"It's still on my bucket list." So that's something to live for.

"I actually keep one of those, literally on paper. It's in my apartment."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I've checked off most of it. Paris in the spring, skydiving, running a marathon, learning a language."

"You're a real Renaissance man." This is gauge 8 sarcasm. Scott and Kirstie are the only ones who can detect it reliably. Scott can catch 0–9, and he could guess through 12 because he usually knew what I was thinking. Kirstie is a natural. She can detect through 15. Kevin, interestingly, maybe because of his perfect pitch, is about as good as Scott.

Eugene doesn't catch even a whiff of it. "What about you?" he asks. "What have you crossed off?" Props for asking a question instead of talking all about yourself, but no love for asking just so you can compare our accomplishments. Prepare to be crushed, Eugene.

"Well, I've gone to Paris in the spring." Six or seven times, but I'm trying to lure him into a false sense of superiority. "I've never really been interested in running or skydiving, and I don't think high school Spanish really counts as learning a language." A dumb smug grin is building on his face. "I still want to learn Japanese."

"I know French and Spanish," he can't help but interject.

"Impressive." I've slipped to gauge 6, but he's still oblivious. "So I guess all I've crossed off is going to Paris, seeing SOPHIE perform live, uh, getting on TV and the radio—"

"I was on TV once!"

"Oooh, that's fascinating. I want to hear all about it when I finish. Where was I? Radio. Seeing myself on TV, and hearing myself on the radio, and getting a number one album on Billboard, seeing myself in theaters, getting nominated for a Grammy, winning a Grammy—that was way up there on the bucket list, so I went back for three more—starring in movies, oh, and getting a sphynx cat! Can't forget Wyatt! What else? Performing at the AMAs a few times wasn't really on the list, but I added it just so I could cross it off. Same with Beyoncé calling me 'flawless' and 'amazing' on her Facebook. Oooh, skinny dipping was definitely on the list. Selling out Madison Square too, and selling out a world tour, trying balut, getting a tattoo, visiting the Empire State Building, meeting the President, attending EDC, seeing snow, visiting all 50 states, hitting a C8, getting a six-pack, watching a show on Broadway... I feel like I'm still missing something. Oh! The platinum records. I still need an Oscar—Wait, I forgot about the five million YouTube subscribers, and the fifteen million subscribers, and the hundred million views. Right, so I still need to learn Japanese, win an Oscar and a Golden Globe, find a soulmate—another one, I guess—and write a song with Imogen Heap. Now, tell me about when you were on TV. That sounds exciting." Sundance! I forgot to mention that one.

"It... yeah. It was great."