I think I`m gonna go crazy of romantic and sexual frustration.
Damn the words about book-lovers never going to bed alone. Sometimes the Earth hits me on the bottom, if kind, ocassionally giving a heavy thud on my head and bringing me back to the longing for someone to long for me and to hug me genuinely how you hug a person not because it should be like that but because you really want to say something with your hands.
Another romance with a book-hero. Michael Corleone calming me down, how nice, how lovely, how beautifull, how cute, how sad actually. But hey! stop complaining, wouldn`t he say? Three years in army, he could do with a true love, be calm, be nice, be lovely, be beautifull, be cute, but how sad I am actually. I`m folded in strong imaginary hands of a murderer, right now my only destiny is to be a moll.
How nice, how lovely, how beautifull, how cute.