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Instructions for Adam Look after no one except yourself. Go to university and make lots of friends and get drunk. Forget your door keyes. Laugh. Eat pot-noodles for breakfast. Miss lectures. Be irresponsible.

Jenny Downham

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Jenny Downham
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: January 1
Actor
Author
Film Actor
Novelist
Writer
Inner and Outer London
Doors
Drunk
Noodles
Laughing
Lots
Instructions
Friends
Miss
Lectures
Forget
University
Irresponsible
Look
Door
Pot
Looks
Laugh
Instruction
Make
Except
Adam
Missing
Breakfast

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I lean back on the pillows and look at the corners of the room. When I was a kid, I always wanted to live on the ceiling - it looked so clean and uncluttered, like the top of a cake.
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when I was four I almost fell down the shaft of a tin mine and when I was five the car rolled over on the motorway and when I was seven we went on holiday and the gas ring blew out in the caravan and nobody noticed I've been dying all my life
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Don't pretend to care. I don't need you as an anesthetic.
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I shrug him off. 'Can't you just go away? There's a moment. It has a sound in it, as if something very small got broken.
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Every breath, every heartbeat, was one less until maybe things stopped hurting this much.
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She'll understand what I already know - that death surrounds us all. And it tastes like metal between your teeth.
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It's a shame i can't be there myself - i like parties. Text me if you think of any good hymns!
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I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I'm sorry to leave you.
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If I learnt anything at all about terminal illness in my research, it's that the experience is different for everyone. I do believe that life becomes concentrated when it's boundaried and that death is the biggest boundary of all.
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The inside of the door is glossy white. A total re-paint. I touch it with my fingers, but it stays the same. It's so bright it makes the room waver at the edges. Every few years we disappear.
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You changed the rules of the universe when you fell in love with the enemy.
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She'd never in her whole life bunked school, smoked dope, or kissed a boy whose name she didn't know, and yet in the last few days, she'd done all these things.
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We make patterns, we share moments.
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I miss him as soon as he goes. When he isn't with me, I think I made him up.
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Perhaps I'm dead. Perhaps this is all it will be. The living will carry on in their world – touching, walking. And I'll continue in this empty world, tapping soundlessly on the glass between us.
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No, really. I free you.' I don't want to be free.
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Was this love? Because it hurt. It was like a bit of glass stuck somewhere important--his heart or his head, and it was throbbing.
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If you want a girl to like you, you have to listen like a woman and love like a man.
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