You lose it, as you always knew you would, and were even prepared to; but you can’t bring yourself to live with the loss. And hoping not to think of it, like praying not to dream of it, hurts just the same.
Then a strange idea got hold of me: What if my body—just my body, my heart—cried out for his? What to do then?
What if at night I wouldn’t be able to live with myself unless I had him by me, inside me? What then?
Think of the pain before the pain.
"Yirmi yaşında olmadığımız halde bizler de mutlu olduğumuzun anları gözden geçirsek, bütün kainatın karşısında titrediği şu kelimeye ulaşmaz mıyız? Hiç!"