I want to, sadlife. Because, in my life, I want that warm bundle of love sitting on my lap tracing circles and boxes around objects on a puzzle page. I want to hear her giggle at some silly cat and dog story in a kids book. I want to smell her hair just after we have had a bath together. I want to taste the horrible peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich she will make for me. I want to watch her eyes light up when I show her a magic trick (if I can learn one). I want her to teach me the difference between a green unicorn and a yellow sea monster. I want to breathe in the breath she breathes out when she sleeps, then touch her lips with mine to see when she wakes up. I want to protect her from gravity when she first learns how to ride a bike.

I want to love her. I want to care for her, please her emotionally, please her sexually, and in any other way I can think of. For four long and ecstatic years, I had been in love with someone like her. "T'is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."

But it's illegal and immoral. Not that I really care enough to give two sh*ts about legality or morality.

I DO care... I fear intensely... about how society idiots would hurt her if they found out she had me as her lover.