“I can see why she feels left behind. Maybe even discarded. Is that why she refuses to accept my love and return it? Afraid that love doesn't last? Doesn't really exist? Afraid if her own father can withdraw his love (or at least the manifestation of his love), that maybe she somehow isn't worthy of the emotion?”

“I don't love him, & he definitely doesn't love me. Still, he semi-fills a gaping black hole inside me. That place wants love, maybe even needs love, but love is something I"m pretty sure doesn't exist.”

“Why doesn't love come with an owner's manual?”

“She's no longer afraid to die. What she's afraid of is living, accepting the status quo.”

“I love the way she feels inthe curve of my arm. I loveher unpretentious beauty,her intelligence, her nerve.But could I ever love her?The concept of falling in loveis completely foreign, somethingI can’t bring myself to accept. Her hair pillows my cheek and her hand on my leg is warm. I care about you, Conner, and I hate to see you hurting. I want to respond but can’tfind the pretty words I need.”

“He has built a pedestal for her so tall that she is afraid to be lifted atop it, because to fall would mean certain death. But oh, she would rise far, far beyond fear and be held by arms so strong, and love so pure, that falling would not be an option.”

“I wish I were worthy of his love. (Any love.)I should tell him to run. But I can't. I need him.”