She can't just be a face, a body; there has to be more than that, some kind of connection. And I can't connect, don't want to connect, with anyone.
At the age of five she has already come to terms with one of the life's harshest lessons: that the world isn't fair.
At what point does a fly give up trying to escape through a closed window"do its survival instincts keep it going until it is physicaly capable of no more,or does it eventualy learn after one crash too many that there is no way out? At what point do you decide that enough is enough?
Do I realy regret that night? That one moment of joy beyond compare " some people never experience it in a lifetime. But the downside to that taste of pure happiness is that,like a drug, a glimmer of paradise, it leaves you craving more.
This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity.
I don't know when it started - this thing - bit it's growing, muffling me, suffocating me like poison ivy. I grew into it. It grew into me. We blurred at the edges, became an amorphous, seeping, crawling thing.
Never before have I imagined my life without him-like this house, he is my only point of reference in this difficult existence, this unstable and frightening world. The thought of his leaving home fills me with a terror so strong, it takes my breath away. I feel like one of those seagulls covered in oil from a spill, drowning in a black tar of fear.
If I keep breathing, then I have to keep living, and if I keep living, then I have to keep hurting, and I can't - not like this.
I want to tell her that I can't pull her down. I want to tell her that she has to let go of my hand in order to swim. I want to tell her that she must live her own life. But I sense she already knows that these options are open to her. And that she, too, has made her choice.
It's always nice being wanted. Even if it's by the wrong person.
Time has stopped; time is racing. Lochie's lips are rough yet smooth, hard yet gentle. His fingers are strong: I feel them in my hair and on my neck and down my arms and against my back. And I never want him to let me go.
Willa's big blue eyes, Willa's dimpled-cheeked smile. Tiffin's shaggy blond mane, Tiffin's cheeky grin. Kit's yells of excitement, Kit's glow of pride. Maya's face, Maya's kisses, Maya's love. Maya, Maya, Maya . . .
Lochie. The boy I once loved. The boy I still love. The boy I will continue to love, even when my part in this world is over too.
Trying to describe my life and feelings to you is like trying to describe coulours to the blind, or music to the deaf. It's simply not possible.
I can't tell you. I can't tell you of all people. Throughout my life you were the one person I could turn to. The one person I could always count on to understand. And now that I've lost you, I've lost everything.
At the end of the day it's about how much you can bear, how much you can endure. Being together, we harm nobody; being apart, we extinguish ourselves.
He shakes his head with a slow smile. You'd better be right. If the phone rings, I'm unpluggining it, I swear to God-" You'd do that to your five-year-old sister?" I gasp in mock outrage. For one whole night alone? Jesus, Maya, I'd sell her to the gypsies!
They say when you really love someone, you should be willing to set them free. So that is what I am doing. I will step back and you will move on. I will let you go. ... Your happiness means everything to me. I will listen for your voice in the distance. I will look at the moon. I will keep you in my pocket. I will carry your smile with me everywhere, like a warm and comforting glow.
Out of the millions and millions of people that inhabit this planet, he is one of the tiny few I can never have.
You've always been my best friend, my soul mate, and now I've fallen in love with you too. Why is that such a crime?
Even though I'm surrounded by pupils, there is the invisible screen screen between us, and behind the glass wall I am screaming - screaming in my own silence, screaming to be noticed, to be befriended, to be liked.
...and my loneliness, always my loneliness - that airless bubble of despair that is slowing stifling me.
At what point do you give up - decide enough is enough? There is only one answer really. Never.
I might appear confident and chatty, but I spend most of my time laughing at jokes I don't find funny, saying things I don't really mean - because at the end of the day that's what we're all trying to do: fit in, one way or another, desperately trying to pretend we're all the same.
As the light begins to intensify, so does my misery, and I wonder how it is possible to hurt so much when nothing is wrong.
I love you in"in every kind of way.' "I feel like that too . . .' His voice is shocked and raw. "It's " it's a feeling so big I sometimes think it's going to swalow me. It's so strong I feel it could kil me. It keeps growing and I can't " I don't know what to do to stop it. But " but we're not supposed to do this " to love each other like this!
There are no laws, no boundaries on feelings.We can love each other as much and as deeply as we want.No one, Maya, no one can ever take that away from us.
only a matter of time before it broke through our fragile web of denial, forcing us to confront the truth and acknowledge who we are: two people in love " a love that nobody else could possibly understand.
I am overcome by a feeling of complete detachment. I am a mere object to these people. I am barely human any more.
But I don't want to be fine, not if it means she's going to let go of my hand; not if it means we're going to go back to being polite strangers.
And this is something I must accept - even if, like acid on metal, it is slowly corroding me inside.
He is my soul mate, my fresh air, the reason I look forward to getting up every morning.
The words fire from my mouth like bullets, ricocheting off the walls before I can even register what I'm saying.
Pressed up against him, I can feel the thud of his heart against mine, his ribcase expanding and contracting rapidly against my chest, the warm whisper of his breath tickling the side of my neck, the brush of his leg against my thigh. Resting my arms on his shoulders, I pull back a little to get a look at his face. But he isn't smiling any more.
I've never seen anyone sleep with their head hanging off the back of a wooden chair before - was the couch not comfortable enough for you?
What else could he possibly have done? What choices did he ever have?
It's horrible being ashamed of someone you care about; it eats away at you. And if you let it get to you, if you give up the fight and surrender, eventually that shame turns to hate.
Before there was anything, there was Lochan.
Anyway, what does mad mean exactly?" Rami added quickly "Aren't we all a little mad? Don't we have to be somehat mad just to go on living, to go on hoping?
You cannot undo the past; you can only learn to live with it, find some way of making peace with it, and move on.