I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you."

The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.

I don’t understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It’s like we’re incapable of normal human interaction.

So what do I wish for? Something I'm not sure I want? Someone I'm not sure I need? Or someone I know I can't have?

I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I'm not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it.

If I had a euro for every stupid thing I've done, I could buy the Mona Lisa.

My smile wavers as I revert to my natural state of being: nervous and weird.