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"Once more," he said "Speak my name once more."
Love is awful. It’s awful! It’s painful! It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do! It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do.
And what about rule number three?
A foundling is in your care. By creed, until its of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.
It shouldn’t be you but it is. It’s alright. I just feel you.
It can't all be sorrow, can it?
I’d like to be my old self again but I’m still trying to find it…