As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses—that 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 live—I had to know that he existed. That was all.
Everything else I could endure.
So long as he existed.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 4, p.116
3 comments:
Love it, love it, love it!
Totally applying it to our reality, of course :)
How fitting "to remember the precise color of his eyes," considering our recent e-mails about his eye colour...
I cried some serious tears during this part...
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