Every time I think about having kids I remember this orphanage that I used to visit, specially this little 3-year-old girl I met there. She had a huge scar covering her belly from top to bottom, and the social worker told me it was her mother who had done that to her. She was so traumatized she never spoke, but her eyes had this urge for attention and love that made me want so badly to take her home with me. Well, maybe someday I will.
Who could explain it? Do I like him that much because I need something to hold on to, or has everything happened `cause I liked him too much? It's just as complicated as life, the universe, and everything, but we'll end up having dinner at that restaurant, where it all ends.
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