We're Not Ourselves, Are We? I'm Certainly

She Made You Decent, And In Return You Made Her So Happy

I Think I Became A Writer Because I Used To Write Letters To My Friends, And I Used To Love Writing Them. I Loved The Idea That You Can Put Marks On A Page And Send It Off, And Two Days Later, Someone Laughs Somewhere Else In The World.

Welcome To The Graveyard Of Ambition.

And Then She Frowned, And Shook Her Head, Then Put Her Arms Around Him Once More, Pressing Her Face Into His Shoulder, Making A Noise That Sounded Almost Like Rage. 'what's Up?' He Asked. 'nothing. Oh, Nothing. Just...' She Looked Up At Him. 'i Thought I'd Finally Got Rid Of You.' 'i Don't Think You Can.' He Said

I'm Just Not Prepared To Be Treated Like This Anymore.' 'treated Like What?' She Sighed, And It Was A Moment Before She Spoke. 'like You Always Want To Be Somewhere Else, With Someone Else.