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.

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.

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.

Lochie. The boy I once loved. The boy I still love. The boy I will continue to love, even when my part in this world is over too.

...and my loneliness, always my loneliness - that airless bubble of despair that is slowing stifling me.

You cannot undo the past; you can only learn to live with it, find some way of making peace with it, and move on.

Any guy, even imaginary, would just feel like second best. Second best to what? I don't even have an image of the perfect boyfriend. I just know he must exist. Because I have all these feelings-love, longing, wanting to be touched, dreaming of being kissed-yet no one to focus them on.