I knew him, but I don't understand him.
If I'd known it was going to be the last time he'd ever hold me, I'd have paid better attention.
I know everything and nothing about him all at the same time.
I do not like that I allowed my past to close me off. I do not like that I let circumstances rob me of the ability to have a normal relationship with a man, to have friends, to be happy. I do not like it, but I had felt myself powerless against it.
All men have the stars, but they are not the same things for different people.
Does madness bring creativity? Or does creativity cause madness? Can an artist create without the ups so high and the downs so low?