I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of collection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

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

There are memories I a better off without. Things better lost forever.

I am an adult, but a damaged one.

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.

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.