What if I come to the end of my life and realize that I'd spent everyday watching for a man who would never come to me? What an unbearable sorrow it would be, to realize I'd really tasted the things I'd eaten, or seen the places I'd been because I'd thought of nothing but waiting even while my life was drifting away from me.
And yet if I drew my heart back what life would I have? I would be like a dancer who had practiced since childhood for a performance I would never give.
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