And infatuated be damned. He was near to being blinded by his attraction to her. He was in love, damn it all. He disliked her, he resented her, he disapproved of almost everything about her, yet he was head over ears in love with her, like a foolish schoolboy.He wondered grimly what he was going to do about it.He was not amused.Or in any way pleased.

Is there a problem, Ms. Parker? Something you want to say to me?" Reaching for his tie, he began to loosen it, unraveling it with his fingers, angry eyes still locked on mine."I'm not sure I like being your pet. Or science project, I don't know which.""You have a smart mouth.""You make smart observances.""You're going to make this invitation difficult, aren't you?""If you're dishonest with me, yes.""You'll regret it if you don't accept.""Is that a threat?""That's a promise.

You don’t deserve my image in your head. You don’t deserve my memories in your chest.

You’re a mess, I confess, I despise you in the best kind of way.

Why?' He asked.'Why what?' What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I'd like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don't tell.

Love?! When a piece of broke heart hits you.

Oh, am I glad to know that after all these years it still is hard trying to unlove someone; if there's such a thing...

Now he was nothing to her, just a lesson in time, a wicked boy-man, incapable of wealth or prestige.

Human history is the ancient story of the umbilical conflict between a lone individual versus a cabalistic society. A love-hate relationship defines our personal history with society, where the suppression of individuality for the sake of the collective good battles the notion that the purpose of society is to enable each person to flourish. A conspicuous feature of cultural development involves societies teaching children the sublimation of unacceptable impulses or idealizations, consciously to transform their inappropriate instinctual impulses into socially acceptable actions or behavior. The paradox rest in the concept that in order for any person to flourish they must preserve the spiritual texture of themselves, a process that requires the individual to resist societal restraint, push off against the community, and reject the walls of traditionalism that seek to pen us in. The climatic defining event in a person’s life represents the liberation of the self from crippling conformism, staunchly rebuffing capitulating to the whimsy of the super ego of society.

I remember wanting to flee her, and being unable to flee her, so in need of her and half hating her for it, and I still am nauseous from it.

Did you ever stop to think that even if I am a monster, I might be your soulmate anyway?

Maybe you're right, Red. Maybe I am hateful. Maybe I ruined your life. Maybe I'm the devil, and the worst thing that ever happened to you, and a million other awful things... But did you ever stop to think that even if I am a monster... I might be your soulmate, anyway?

I could just felt the twinge of resentment with her being there, where my mother was supposed to be. What right did she have, to replace that place?