The love of her life dissolved into dreams.

Perfection I've lived with the pretense of perfection for seventeen years. Give my room a cursory inspection, you'd think I have OCD. But it's only habit and not obsession that keeps it all orderly. Of course, I don't want to give the impression that it's all up to me.

I needed to see, needed to know, needed a whole lot more.

I want to know what it means to be in love. But in my dictionary 'in love' is indefinable.

Grandma once told me it's easy to overthink love, to dissect it and question it until it is no more.

When all choice is taken from you, life becomes a game of survival.

You believe this is a game, and you may be right. But if you think you can play it better than me, think again.