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I know that I have to control myself in order to love.
My husband has no name; he is my husband, he belongs to me.
“I’ve never done anything but wait outside the closed door.”
No one can see my neuroses except me. The way I see myself is not how other people see me. Everything is okay. I belong here.
So I would drown in happiness when he finally thrust into me. And by the time he turned me over on the mattress and lifted my legs, I was already dreaming of my wedding dress.
Obviously I chose not to breastfeed my children: I was too attached to the perkiness of my chest to give up such an important aspect of my femininity for them.
“If we are always preparing to be happy, it is inevitable that we will never be so.”
Sweep me off my feet, please, Sweep me off my feet now.
Are we too different to be happy together?).
