As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worriedlate in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defensesthat it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them. Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to liveI had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed.
On February 10 2009
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