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And here was another truth: I was lonely and I was angry, and rage and loneliness can end up tasting the same.
To look at that boy was painful, yet I could not turn away. I wanted to eat him up like honey cake. It might have been desire, it might have been dread: I think it might have been both. I wanted him to see me, and was frightened that he might. My heart astonished me like a new bruise that wanted pressing.
why do we mortals always look back and imagine there was a simpler path? We think none of this would have happened.
