좋아요. 그 사람 보는게 참 좋아. 지수씨를 아끼는 것도, 그리워하는 것도, 사람이 사람에게 정성을 쏟는 모습이 다 좋아요.

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others–the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.

Life just doesn’t ever let you have it your way.
It trips you up and kicks you, knowing exactly where it’ll hurt the most.
And just when you thought you had that silver lining, just when you thought you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, just when you felt like you could finally surface, it drags you right back down into the darkness- into the deep.
Hope doesn’t exist here.
So here’s to the descent into madness.
Into the dark.

With everything and everyone coming and going, you learn to harden yourself over goodbyes. Because things that are meant to stay- stay. But every so often, on days like this, you get homesick for people, places, and things that used to feel like home.