And I know how he feels–it’s so good it hurts.

And this is something I must accept - even if, like acid on metal, it is slowly corroding me inside.

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.

And I know how he feels—it’s so good it hurts. I think I’m going to die from happiness. I think I’m going to die from pain. Time has stopped; time is racing.

But whichever form it took it brought with it, in those moments of bitter anguish, such a desperate surge of hope that it was almost untouchable, and flitted away like a golden butterfly into the bright blue sky - beautiful, unreachable and completely transistent.

If I move, if I speak, if I so much as blink, I'm going to lose this battle.

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