"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close." Pablo Neruda.

It's my birthday today. Memories are rushing through me like a broken dam. I left Luca's apartment before sunrise. Here I am, locked up in my house. Drenched in pain and sadness. A prisoner of my mind.

I'm sitting on the bathroom...