Saying his name stabbed my heart, like someone had ripped through my carefully stitched up world and exposed the infected, pulsing red tissue that I thought was healing.

What is real and what is not is for your heart to decide and for your heart to know.

I want you to learn the lesson of the lotus. This flower springs forth from muddy waters. It raises its delicate petals to the sun and perfumes the world while, at the same time, its roots cling to the elemental muck, the very essence of the mortal experience. Without that soil, the flower would wither and die.

A young man who doesn't have the foresight to seek out the girl he wants to be with and actively pursue her, doesn't deserve her.

Okay. So, apparently I find burly Indian men attractive. What's wrong with that?

And yes, I'll admit, I am jealous. I'm jealous of every minute you spend with him, of every concerned expression you send his way, of every tear shed, of every glance, every touch, and every thought. I want to rip him to pieces and purge him from your mind and from your heart. But I can't.

Why does everything so bad for you always taste so dreamy?