With him everything is a test, affection is measured, that given weighed against that which has been received, and the balance, more often than not, disappointing him.

And then, when there is nothing else between us but love, we can begin to find a way to truly be together.

I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too. Even if you can only find that happiness without me.

I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.

Whatever enjoyment I might have had at the time would disappear overnight like snow melting on a warm roof.

It's so difficult, isn't it? To see what's going on when you're in the absolute middle of something? It's only with hindsight we can see things for what they are.

I feel like he's taking advantage of me. Advantage of my illness. He thinks he can rewrite history in any way that he likes and I will never know, never be any the wiser. But I do know. I know exactly what he's doing. And so I don’t trust him. In the end he is pushing me away, Dr. Nash. Ruining everything.