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I cried

The narrator was me in high-school, me now, her dialogue is one of immense loneliness and it makes my throat ache.

Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late… You wait and wait for happiness, and when you finally can’t bear it any longer, you rush out of the house, only to hear later that a marvelous happiness arrived the following day at the home you had abandoned, and now it was too late. Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late. Happiness…

The present moment is interesting to me. Now, now, now— even while you try to pin down an instant, it flies off into the distance, and a new “now” arrives.

Why is it that we cannot be happy with ourself or love only ourself throughout our life? It is pathetic to watch whatever emotions or sense of reason I have acquired up to that point be devoured by instinct. Whenever I let the slightest thing make me forget myself, I can’t help but be disappointed.