--

"i wanted him. i wanted his arms wrapped around my body, and i wanted his lazy grins, and i wanted the smell of smoke he carried with him everywhere. i wanted his tired eyes, and soft hair, and the way he made me feel like i was enough. i wanted, wanted, wanted. but i'd learned that my life was not one of wanting and taking; it was one of constant reaching, the strain of my empty hand reaching out for another. and so, maybe he could never be mine, but that wouldn't stop me from trying."

--