How does it feel to lose the only chance you ever had to be happy?
Excruciating. You continuously bleed, like in one of those Japanese terribly beautiful paintings, where you see a young woman (or a man) holding an open wound with his two hands. And then Time comes, with his infinite detachment. One morning you wake up and you realize you can breath again, looking at the sky. The wound is there, half asleep. You move on. You crush your teeth, but you move on.