But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over.

The truth was I knew, after all those flat January days, that I deserved better. I deserved I love yous and kiwi fruits and warriors coming to my door, besotted with love. I deserved pictures of my face in a thousand expressions, and the warmth of a baby's kick beneath my hand. I deserved to grow, and to change, to become all the girls I could be over the course of my life, each one better than the last.

If this was my instinct talking, I didn‟t want to hear what it was saying.

It was like discovering that some part of you wasn't yours at all. And it made me wonder what else I couldn't claim.

Believe in yourself up here and it will make you stronger than you could ever imagine.

A thump thump thump noise that was so unfamiliar, and yet I couldn't quite place it. But I knew it. It was - "Mmm-hmmm," Monica murmured, just as Wes came view into the path. He was running, his pace quick and steady. He was in shorts, his shirt off, staring ahead as he passed. His back was tan and gleaming with sweat.

You know, feeling and action are always linked, one can't exist without the other. It's sort of a hippie thing.