K sozhaleniyu, vsye eto bylo. Bylo so mnoy. Ya togda byla ochen' moloda. Vlyublena. Raskovana i svobodna ot predrassudkov i uslovnostey. A potom mne bylo ochen' bol'no, chto ya rasstalas' s tem chelovekom. Ya khotela ego vernut' lyubym sposobom. I potomu ya napisala etu knigu, chtoby prochitav eye, on vspomnil o tom, kak lyubil menya, i ponyal, kak ya nuzhdayus' v nyem. No seychas mne vsye ravno. Bol' pritupilas', chuvstva rastayali. Teper', esli on pridyet ko mne i skazhet, chto lyubit, ya k nemu ne vernus'. Pozdno. Slishkom pozdno. Ya ne proshchayu predatel'stva. Moy zhiznennyy opyt podskazyvaet, chto esli chelovek predal odnazhdy, to on v lyuboy moment on mozhet predat' snova. Ya ne khochu bol'she obshchat'sya s tem chelovekom. Pust' idyet svoey dorogoy i zhivyet svoey zhizn'yu. Tol'ko menya v ney ne budet.