Charlotte Rixon

It depicts a man on a surfboard, cresting the most impossibly high wave, with the words: What if your fears and dreams existed in the same place?

At least he tried. It’s all you can do. Throw your best efforts out into the world and see which of them take off.

She tilts her face towards his and he kisses her, the sensation so overwhelming it leaves him light-headed. His arms are around her waist and he feels his knees go weak with it, and his brain closes down and there’s no thoughts anymore, no muddled-up, messed-up, over-anxious thoughts, there’s only the feeling of her body against his, and the knowledge that he wants her, utterly and completely, and that he may do forever.

A small thrill at the thought of this unexpected excitement, punctuating his hectic Wednesday, like a shooting star appearing from nowhere in the blackest night sky.

He is a bad son. He should have stayed here, taken care of her. Not moved away to London and his life of debauchery. But his sanity – already so fragile, already hanging on by a thread – depends on him being able to escape from this most of the time. From being able to put it in a box and pretend it doesn’t exist.

I want to talk about the missed opportunities, the Sliding Doors moments, the people we love and lose, the impact this has on us… about how some things are bigger than love. About how some obstacles can’t be overcome.’ She pauses, takes another gulp of air. ‘And I want to talk about courage. About how doing the thing you’re most afraid of is the thing that will make your life worth living.’

She sees it all unfurling ahead of her: a life that will begin and end with this boy. This stupid, frustrating boy who somehow, without her even noticing, has buried himself deep within her, and from whom she will never be able to separate herself completely, no matter how long she lives, or how hard she tries, or how many Justins put their arms around her and tell her she’s special.

She learnt that the key to it all was to keep busy. That there’s nothing more dangerous for your mental health than empty time and an empty head.

Everything feels wrong. She’s trying to tell herself that things are the way they should be, that in the long run this will be a good thing, bringing everything to a head so that they can move on. But it doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing about any of this feels right.

People love you more when you’re successful. More people love you when you’re successful, too.