How-how can we make it against the whole world?

I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you of all people. Throughout my life you were the one person I could turn to. The one person I could always count on to understand. And now that I’ve lost you, I’ve lost everything.

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.

He will think Lochan wasn't loved, but he was, more deeply than most people are in a lifetime.

How can something so wrong feel so right?

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.

I've never seen anyone sleep with their head hanging off the back of a wooden chair before - was the couch not comfortable enough for you?