Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don’t know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I’m afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces, and open flames.

Don't worry he tells me tenderly. It doesn't matter who you've been, who you are, or who you become. I'm with you every step of the way.

You don’t know what it’s like to be alone until you’ve had someone inside your head.

People try to make sense of things, and if they don’t know the answers, they make them up,because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.

He has to take me as I am, broken bits and all.

His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered

We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his; they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.