He has an armload of irises and daisies and tulips and he presents them to me. I didn't know what kind of flowers you like.I like them all.Yeah?Yeah.He tries to hand them to me, but then remembers the cast. I'll put them in water.Betty swoops in the room ridiculously fast and she grabs the flowers out of Nick's hands. I'll take care of them. You lovebirds just sit on the couch and think swooning things at each other.

Is everyone as wrong about me as I am about them?

There is no easy off button for your brain.It would be really really nice if there were.

Loving you is a full-time job. It's a great job, don't get me wrong. It's the best job in the universe. But it's not easy.

I just think about how saying that you love someone can make your heart feel like some sort of brownie sundae, warm, gooey, sweet and good.

Nobody is perfect, though. We all want everyone to think we are, but perfection is some crazy mythical state that we can never achieve. It is a goal beyond our grasp, always shifting and changing and taunting us, because it knows...it knows we can never reach it.

You know, life fractures us all into little pieces. It harms us, but it's how we glue those fractures back together that make us stronger.