I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, barely brushing them with his lips. I felt safe, at home. I felt as if here, against his body, was the only place in which I belonged. The only place I had ever wanted to be. We lay in silence for a while, holding each other, our skin merging, our breathing synchronized. I felt as if silence might allow the moment to last for ever, which would still not be enough.

What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

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.

There were never going to be any happy endings for me. I know that now. But that is all right.

I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid.

Work. Write. Read. Keep putting words on the page, because that's the only way you'll get better.