After all, no matter who I was, my death would be no more significant, nor would I be spared from lonely nights. And really, what difference did the world make to me, anyway? With that question, something stirred deep inside me, making my body tremble. It did make a difference. I had needs like anyone else, and sure, one of those needs was a little acknowledgment. But the problem was the way I loved: It was the very cause of my pain.
