“As I see it, you are living with something that you keep hidden deep inside. Something heavy. I felt it from the first time I met you. You have a strong gaze, as if you have made up your mind about something. To tell you the truth, I myself carry such things around inside. Heavy things. That is how I can see it in you.” – Haruki Murakami
I remember the light within your dark brown eyes, the smell of your clothes. I hate, I remember it. I hate how you desperate about life, and I would sit there yelling you could bear it all, while I was desperate too.
I hate because somehow, I got the feeling for you, but I’m so full with many things, and the feeling for you keep screaming for a space. It hurts.