Becky! Love!" Mum has pushed her way through her dancing guests to reach me. "What's wrong? Has labor started?" Honestly. My family has no idea about contemporary urban street dance trends.

Lover? I don't know. I don't know if she loves me. I don't know if I love her. All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see.

If you can't be honest with your friends and colleagues and loved ones, then what is life all about?

Life would be a lot easier if conversations were rewindable and erasable, like videos. Or if you could instruct people to disregard what you just said, like in a courtroom.

If your life's at a juncture and you need to think about things, there's nowhere better than home. However old you are.

Still, that's the point of love; you love someone despite their flaws.

Suddenly I've had enough of all this. I've had enough of being made to feel insecure and paranoid and wondering what's going on