I want to tell her that I can't pull her down. I want to tell her that she has to let go of my hand in order to swim. I want to tell her that she must live her own life. But I sense she already knows that these options are open to her. And that she, too, has made her choice.

At what point do you give up - decide enough is enough? There is only one answer really. Never.

Do I realy regret that night? That one moment of joy beyond compare – some people never experience it in a lifetime. But the downside to that taste of pure happiness is that,like a drug, a glimmer of paradise, it leaves you craving more.

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.

She can't just be a face, a body; there has to be more than that, some kind of connection. And I can't connect, don't want to connect, with anyone.

Being together, we harm nobody; being apart, we extinguish ourselves.

I am overcome by a feeling of complete detachment. I am a mere object to these people. I am barely human any more.