I envy you, your youth. Every woman is still a dream, a thing that can’t exist. Even when you touch her, a creature too beautiful to be real or to cause real pain. It’s different for old men. We have more old wounds from these dreams.

In his younger days a man dreams of possessing the heart of the woman whom he loves; later, the feeling that he possesses the heart of a woman may be enough to make him fall in love with her.

Maybe I should find another doctor; one who realizes the importance of scars.

The counselor says that with more time and more surgeries, I will begin to feel normal again. She says this with a mouth that can still smile. It’s so easy to be reassuring when you have lips.

I know that mirrors give us a false sense of confidence.” I continued. “The reflection that we see everyday has nothing to do with how others see us. The glass lies.

Hate isn’t the opposite of love, apathy is. Hating doesn’t free you from feeling anything. You have to carry it around, using every scar, every little memory like a building block. Like a stone in a wall, until you’ve created a new person, a new life that you can live with.