There's only one problem with that, as far as she sees, and, namely, it's this: "I don't want to fix you, Cal. I don't think I can, and I don't think you need it. I also don't think finding some kind of peace of mind and being fixed and normal is the same thing," she says heavily. It's difficult because she's always wanted to be happy, herself, but the things that could accomplish that never managed to co-exist when it came to her life. She lets him stay behind, walking as briskly as she can in the direction of her hut.

She turns around when she's about ten feet from him, shrugging her shoulders upwards. "You're fine? Fine," she says, trying not to spit out the words to match her current level of sheer frustration at being sick and in love with someone who drives her absolutely insane. "You're fine," she mutters, half to herself as she turns around and remembers why she can't go that quickly, slowing her pace enough to take in three slow breaths, regretting all of this.