It's always nice being wanted. Even if it's by the wrong person.

I don't know when it started - this thing - bit it's growing, muffling me, suffocating me like poison ivy. I grew into it. It grew into me. We blurred at the edges, became an amorphous, seeping, crawling thing.

But I don't want to be fine, not if it means she's going to let go of my hand; not if it means we're going to go back to being polite strangers.

This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity.

At the age of five she has already come to terms with one of the life's harshest lessons: that the world isn't fair.

As the light begins to intensify, so does my misery, and I wonder how it is possible to hurt so much when nothing is wrong.

I love you in–in every kind of way.’ ‘I feel like that too . . .’ His voice is shocked and raw. ‘It’s – it’s a feeling so big I sometimes think it’s going to swalow me. It’s so strong I feel it could kil me. It keeps growing and I can’t – I don’t know what to do to stop it. But – but we’re not supposed to do this – to love each other like this!