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I’ve loved him my whole life, and somewhere along the way, that love didn’t change but grew. It grew to fill the parts of me that I did not have when I was a child. It grew with every new longing in my body and desire in my heart until there was not a piece of me that did not love him. And when I look at him, there is no other feeling in me.
This is friendship, and it is love, but I already know what they have not learned yet; how dangerous friendship is, how damaging love can be.
Perhaps he would ask me what books mean to me. I would tell him that it means living another life;