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 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.

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.

‎"Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?

We’re constantly changing facts, rewriting history to make things easier, to make them fit in with our preferred version of events. We do it automatically. We invent memories. Without thinking. If we tell ourselves something happened often enough we start to believe it, and then we can actually remember it.

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.