• "mornings seem forced to me. so much sadness rises up, i can't bear it. i hate it, i really do. i'm an awful sight in the morning. my legs feel so exhausted that, already, i don't want to do a thing. i wonder if it's because i don't sleep well. it's a lie when they say you feel healthy in the morning. mornings are grey. always the same. absolutely empty. lying in bed each morning, i'm always so pessimistic. it's awful, really. all kinds of terrible regrets converge at once in my mind, and my heart stops up as i writhe in agony."
  • "the reason i hate glasses so much is because i think the beauty of your eyes is the best thing about people. even if they can't see your nose or if your mouth is hidden, i think that all you need are eyes—the kind of eyes that will inspire others, when they are looking into them, to live more beautifully. my eyes are just big saucers, nothing more to them. when i look closely at them in the mirror, it's disappointing. even my mother says i have unremarkable eyes. you might say that there is no light in them. they're like lumps of charcoal—it's that unfortunate. see what i mean? it's dreadful. when i see them in the mirror—every time—i think to myself, i wish i had nice eyes that sparkled softly. eyes like a deep blue lake, or eyes that look as if they reflect the big sky that you might look up at while lying in a lush green meadow, with clouds floating by every so often. you might even see the shadow of birds in them. i hope i meet lots of people with lovely eyes."
  • "i wonder if i am just desensitized to the hundreds if not thousands of things i see and hear everyday, and in my bewilderment, those things end up assailing me like floating ghosts, one after another."
  • "given my lack of experience, if my books were taken away from me, i would be utterly devastated. that's how much i depend on what's written in books. i'll read one book and be completely wild about it—I'll trust it, i'll assimilate it, I'll sympathize with it, i'll try to make it a part of my life. then, i'll read another book and, instantly, i'll switch over to that one. the sly ability to steal someone else's experience and recreate it as if it were my own is the only real talent i possess. really, though, my guile is so bogus as to be offensive. if i were to experience failure upon failure day after day—nothing but total embarrassment—then perhaps i'd develop some semblance of dignity as a result. but no, i would somehow illogically twist even such failures, gloss over them smoothly, so that it would seem like they had a perfectly good theory behind them. and i would have no qualms about putting on a desperate show to do so."
  • "whenever i run up against what's called "instinct," i feel like i want to cry. as i begin to realize from various experiences in my life just how enormous our instincts are and how powerless we are against the force that drives us, sometimes i think i might lose my mind. i become distracted, wondering what i should to do. there is no way to resist or accept the force; it simply feels as if some huge thing has blanketed me whole, from the top of my head, so that it can now drag me around freely. there is a certain satisfaction in being dragged around, as well as a separate sad feeling as i watch it happen. 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. the clear confirmation that that self—me, that is—is also ruled by instinct makes me think i could cry. it makes me want to call out for mother and father. But even more pathetic is that—to my surprise—the truth could be found in aspects of myself that i don't like."
  • "there are really good things about human beings. i mean, it's humans who discovered the beauty of flowers, and humans who admire them."
  • there i go again—pondering the purposelessness of my day-to-day life, wishing i had more ambition, and lamenting all the contradictions in myself."
  • "i want to love everyone," i thought, almost tearfully. if you stare at the sky, it changes little by little. gradually it turns bluish. then, with nothing more than a sigh, i felt the urge to be naked. i had never seen anything as beautiful as the translucent leaves and grass. gently, i reached out to touch the grass. i want to live beautifully."
  • "the sunset afterglow is beautiful. and the evening haze is pink. see how the rays from the setting sun melt and blur into the haze, which is why it takes on such a soft pink glow. the pink haze drifts and sways amongst the grove of trees, trailing above the road and caressing the meadow, before gently enveloping my body. it infuses every last strand of my hair with its soft pink light and then lightly embraces me."
jul 24 2021 ∞
jul 24 2021 +