"I was a very lonely child and it's funny but the first word that comes to my head is "starved". I felt starved of affection, starved of love and I felt that it wasn't OK to ask for it. Maybe there was a sense that if I deserved it, it would be there. There must be something I'd done which meant I didn't deserve it." --
"All right, Chris, you've given me a breather. I'm prepared for anything. And thank you for saying all of that, and for loving me, for you haven't gone unloved, or unadmired, yourself." I kissed him quickly on the lips, and told him to go on, to hit me with his knockout blow. "Really, Chris, I know you must have something perfectly awful to tell me-so out with it. Keep holding me as you tell me, and I can stand anything you have to say."
I crave for love, everybody does . . . and I've never had a bloody crumb of it--and I've given so much love to people--I can really love people, I can, I let them walk over me--but nobody's ever loved me.
I don't think I can marry, I'm not fit for it, I'm not real enough. That's the trouble. I'm a puppet that's realised what's wrong with itself and it's . I'm propped up somewhere all alone, watching the real people go past. I'm propped up crying in a corner.
To be a bear and love a she-bear, that would not be such a bad life, and would, at least, be a far better one than to keep his reason and his thoughts, with all the rest that made him human, and yet live on alone, unloved, in sadness.
You see, nobody cares about me except you. You don't know what that's like. You've always had people who cared. You've always had . I've never had anybody. No wonder I feel frustrated.