Plaster on the Wall of Thought: 106

Thought: Seven Hundred Thirty-Six

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One. You have become such an absolute darling, my heart's treasure! Your eyes have turned tender and wistful like a kitten's—when I gaze at them too long, I think: I could never hurt this person, never treat them badly, I would only cherish and care for them, hold them precious above all else. And your nose has become the Eiffel Tower! Your lips are so cute that just looking at them makes me want to kiss them and devour them completely. What more should I say, tell me? Sometimes I think I am the boy and you are the girl. Otherwise, I never knew that a girl like me could be so utterly attracted to a boy.

Looking at you, I only want to keep looking, I want to love you without any hesitation or conflict. You are my heart. You are my longing. I love you, beloved bird of my soul.
Ahhh... I want to give you a little pinch. Why has my darling soul-bird become like this? I want to hide my life-bird deep within my heart. What other longings stir in me—how can I make you understand, my bird?
You are the friend who bears some of my suffering... friend meaning companion of the path, the closest one in life, whom I can trust more than my own breath, even more than myself—just as Soumitra said in 'Belasheshe'!
Two. Suppose you are in a relationship with someone from which you cannot escape; yet staying in it is also illogical. What would you do in such a situation?
Your heart is bound to someone you cannot have when you wish; instead, you must hide from country, society, family—everyone—you must keep running and hiding. What torment could be more unbearable than this?
If you were in such a place, what would you do? Put yourself in this position and live one day like this—see how it feels!
Three. Come, let's speak of a dream or two together.
You and I will go have tea at a roadside stall someday. In some open wild field, I will tie dreams in the edge of my blue sari and lie facing the sky in the green naked meadow, yearning deeply to touch the afternoon light. You will paint the cheeks of a few grasshopper-colored dreams with the hues of joyful love. And on my forehead, you will gently place two tender kisses.
Ah! Why doesn't life become like a well-arranged letter!
Now you tell me your dreams. I have never asked to know your dreams.
Actually, I think about so many things. I think none of my dreams will ever come true. I think more—that I won't live much longer either. I keep thinking that no light will ever come into my life.
Four. If you hear that I have died, then after a month when all the busyness has somewhat subsided, make time to remember me and say: "She died long ago, I haven't had time to cry all this while, so let me sit and weep a little now."
And listen, why shouldn't I be able to show anger with you? I will show anger a hundred times. Do whatever you wish, whatever you desire.
All these words I'm speaking—I'm doing well to speak them. But careful—don't call and roar at me, I'm warning you.
I can say without hesitation that I love you hundreds of times more than you love yourself, but I cannot express this, you know. I cannot make my heart's words understood. You truly don't understand me!
What you understand is very little.

What you know is incomplete.
Five.
They wound me, bleed me, batter me into pieces. They won't let me exist as myself. Everyone keeps stabbing away at me, relentlessly. Where can I hide myself anymore? How much more must I withdraw from everything? The whole world seeks opportunities to speak of my past. That chapter I barely remember, sometimes forget entirely—they keep dragging it back needlessly, making me remember again and again. And then I don't find you beside me either. The pain only grows, and keeps growing.
If you love me even a little, just a pinch,

then I'll write an entire lifetime's worth of evenings

in your name, scatter light!
Six. If we love the same way every day or fight the same way every day, both will eventually bore even us—that's why we sometimes maintain silence. Tell me, if you were told you didn't have to observe any special day, how long could you live by your own rules in the same manner? Being forced to do something is of course a different matter. Surely there are many things, even tasks we dislike, that we often do not out of compulsion but sometimes with joy—you'll understand this if you think a bit deeper.
I'm saying all this because whatever anyone else in the world does or doesn't do truly doesn't affect me at all. In fact, many people make a show of many things, which I completely dislike. But if someone special to me forgets something special, that is absolutely unacceptable to me. I know you love me, and you dislike proving your love. Everything is fine. But I am very, very far from you. Because of this distance, things that might have been observed if we were close will never happen due to the distance, but surely some things can at least be done from afar.
I never wanted you to suddenly come from Dhaka to Jashore for me, nor have I ever wanted or will I ever want you to send some expensive gift from there. Not for show to everyone, but sitting alone together cutting cake, you waiting with cake for me... I never wanted any of this, don't want it, and don't even hope or imagine that such a day will come, nor will I ever. But what you could easily have done from there is—you could have at least made one phone call, sent at least one message, made one video call. Even if I don't expect anything from others, as someone I love, expecting and receiving this much from you is my right, my due.
It's completely natural for everyone else to forget, but for you to forget—that's unnatural. I cannot accept this. You can say right now that you can't maintain a relationship this way, can't follow these things, you can say and do whatever you wish, because you have those powers. You can do anything if you want, and you certainly don't need any issue for that. But tell me, what else can keep the relationship healthy, normal, and beautiful? You're so far away—to sustain a distant relationship, we should remember many things. You won't have time to send even one text, you won't have time for one video call on this day if not any other—must I accept all this too?
At the very least, I hadn't expected that you would forget my birthday too.

I know you'll roar in protest now. Say whatever you wish, whatever you have to say.
Thought: Seven Hundred and Thirty-Seven

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One. You know, from every angle, in every way, I am utterly unworthy of you—this I realize most acutely, most painfully, most overwhelmingly whenever I stand before a mirror. I don't deserve even your simple "How are you?" yet the amount of tenderness, love, care, and time—all that I receive from you—is truly miraculous. I'm telling you the truth: I deserve none of what you give me. This privilege to call you by loving names with such affection—what an enormous privilege this is, what an immense gift—I could never make you understand. Every time I see my face in the mirror, I realize I have no qualification whatsoever to be a woman. My hair is absolutely wretched, my skin is dark, darker still beneath my eyes. Anyone looking at me would think I'm a patient, nothing more!
I simply cannot be loved. There is nothing about me to love. In short, I am completely, utterly, utterly unworthy of love! For everything I have received from you until today, I will acknowledge my gratitude to my Creator until the moment I die. Though you were a complete stranger to me, you became my closest, most beloved, most familiar person. I know I deserve none of this, for I have done nothing in this life that would merit receiving so much! I have received all your love. Whatever I needed, whenever I needed it, I might have received it from you had I asked—but I received it all without even asking. When I complain, I don't actually complain thinking of these things. If I thought of all this, I wouldn't have the courage to voice even a single grievance about anything of yours ever again. Please forgive me, little bird. I love you, golden bird. Good night, weaver bird!
Two. You have some misconceptions about certain things regarding me, which I want to clear up. When I was in a relationship with you, I didn't understand love very well. I couldn't distinguish between love and emotion. Besides, you were the first person to enter my life in that way, so I had many weaknesses toward you. But that was the passion of youth. With time, I'm understanding everything, so today I say: forget the past. I never truly loved you! What existed wasn't love—it was merely emotion. Sorry!
I won't say much more. I'll only say this: those who deceive others, such people end up well in the end. On the other hand, those who are deceived always live amidst death-throes.
Three. When people in a society begin to extensively display and publicize even their private worship and prayers, we must understand that social and religious values have begun to decline there.
Four. I often wonder why I behave so badly with her for no reason every few days—I don't know myself. I only know that if she doesn't speak with me all day, I feel pain, I feel suffocated. She doesn't even know that since I became involved with her, since I began loving her, I have cried countless times waiting for her, thinking I'll just speak with her a little, see her a little, love her—yet again and again I end up hurting her. Out of fear of losing her, I hurt her through my own bad behavior.
I torment her mentally. Yet apart from her, there is no one else in this world who loves me, who is my shelter and refuge in all things. My love, my demands, my everything—it is all her.
I have lived since childhood among some cunning, deceitful people, have witnessed the ugly sides of many close to me, and for this reason I have no faith in anyone in this world. But that doesn't mean I suspect her at all. Sometimes I become terribly alone. This aloneness threatens to suffocate me, and that's when I behave toward her in such ways. O God, give me strength, so that whatever else I may do, I don't cause her pain like this from time to time. Let me be able to hold her with my love and affection. Always, just as she understands me, let me understand her in exactly the same way. O God, give me that strength.
And I'm telling you, listen. You will never apologize to me. You won't apologize because the fault is mine. I have a tremendous lack of common sense within me. Sometimes I don't understand when and where to say what. I stay home all day, and in my mind I imagine that perhaps you're constantly sitting in the office with a laptop in front of you, munching on nuts and writing status updates. It never occurs to me that you don't go to the office to waste time sitting around doing nothing, or that you have a job!
I myself constantly skip my studies and just sit around idly, yet I torment you needlessly. That you must always navigate a thousand different concerns—this is beyond my comprehension. Because I've never really gone out into the world properly, I don't know that the outside world isn't so simple. If I were working somewhere today, if I were engaged in work, then I would understand all these things. The fault is entirely mine and mine alone. And I will certainly change these thoughts and attitudes of mine. I don't stay busy with work, I abandon my studies and constantly check your messages every few minutes—all this is my fault. For this I will certainly apologize to you.
Thought: Seven Hundred and Thirty-Eight

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One. My soul-bird, whatever you won't tell me completely, please don't hint at it even a little, dear one. It makes me anxious. I want you to be well.
Two things are working inside me today. Melancholy. Restlessness.
Listen, if I speak a bit loudly with you, will you think I'm being rude? Actually, hearing my own voice on my phone leaves me deeply hurt and wounded. You never told me my voice sounds so awful!
What made you send me that voice recording today?
Your well-being is the sole foundation of my well-being,

Yet look—you manage to stay fine even while putting me in distress!
Two. When you write something I want to say, but when I try to write it myself, I can't present it with the beauty it needs, can't arrange it so elegantly—then I begin to feel utterly helpless before myself. Even to give proper language to my feelings of love, I have to run to you, extend my hand to you, though the very thought revolves around you! Yet see how helpless I am—loving you, I can't even do this much for you!
You say we'll live as each other's complement, but look—can I, have I ever been able to become your complement? You're the one who takes my hand and pulls me up! Then I stand beside you. My love is so useless! I can't speak coherently, I can't write with neat arrangement, I can't do anything else. With all these inadequacies, I still dare to make claims of love, speak of rights with you. The way you spread words with such perfection—even in love I can't arrange them so beautifully! So is there some deficiency in my love? Am I neglecting something somewhere? Such questions come to mind.
And amid all this, where is my gain, do you know? My gain is that you write those poems thinking of me. What greater achievement could there be? Is conquering someone's feelings, someone's realm of thought, something easy? I keep feeling—I've truly won you! When, how this happened, I don't know, but now I feel I have a separate place in your mind too.
Three. After much thought and consideration, I realized that if I come on Facebook and keep seeing these various incidents every day, I'll go mad very soon and start suspecting you. Undoubtedly, I'll drive you crazy too with daily complaints and nagging. I must stop all this right now. I've decided I won't use Facebook anymore. And don't you tell me to come here either.
If you're in a loving relationship with someone else besides me, tell me directly—I'll step aside. Far from bothering you, I won't raise any complaints about you, about my love, or about anything else, won't cause you pain.
My head will truly be ruined if I keep seeing such things. As it is, you don't give me time—perhaps you can't, that's why you don't. On top of that, if I keep seeing these things, I'll become completely psychotic. Upload photos with whoever you want, get involved in relationships, do whatever you please.
I dislike all this restlessness—keep me away from such things.
Let me tell you something, listen. For the most trivial reasons, even the deepest relationships break apart—it's just a matter of moments. That relationship might be ten years old, or perhaps ten days.
Four. Don't think so much about all these things, because there are many things in this world over which we have no control. Trying to control them will only increase our suffering. Better instead to let them flow in their own way. Let them flow! In time, they will come to a stop on their own. I too used to think about these things constantly. What's happening, what should have happened, why it's happening—I would remain anxious about all this. I would wonder, where is my fault in this? Later I realized that those who cause or are causing these things derive great pleasure from it. So why should I do such a thing? What need do I have to give them that pleasure? Let me tell you something. What people write to you or have written—often they don't believe it themselves, don't mean it themselves. They say these things only to make you angry. If you get angry, if you suffer mentally, then they succeed!
Five. I am a wicked girl, I am a coward. I should be made to wash dishes all day, I should be kept under constant scolding. I can give nothing to anyone, I have never done anything for anyone, yet I go around complaining against everyone. I should be spat upon. You should never treat me well, you should always address me rudely, keep me under kicks and beatings. I should be beaten every day from head to toe with sticks. Forget about others—I cannot do anything even for myself, even to keep myself well. You must never love me, you must always keep me under your feet. My place should be under everyone's feet. This is what should happen to a wicked girl like me. Loving you, I have turned into a complete devil.
Six. Sometimes I feel I will die suddenly, very soon. My unrealized dreams will lie scattered in clusters beneath the world's feet. Some unknown people will trample those terribly precious dreams under their feet, walking through some nameless station plaza, boarding the last train to disembark somewhere—and I will know nothing of it.
I truly feel sometimes that very soon, suddenly, my death will come. And then?
Then the melancholy procession of my long-desired eternal liberation.
Truly, without anyone knowing, I will suddenly be summoned toward the path where some hawk takes its leave...
Thought: Seven Hundred Forty-Nine

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**One.** Buy something—anything—from that elderly uncle sitting by the roadside, at some street corner, or in a marketplace nook, hoping to sell a few vegetables, fruits, or other small wares. Buy from him even when you don't need anything, without bargaining at all. And giving that old rickshaw-puller uncle just ten rupees extra won't diminish your wealth one bit—it will only elevate your spirit.
Buy something from that weary child who roams from station to station, peddling his goods, even when you have no need for it.
To the cobbler who stitches shoes with steady hands under the harsh sun—pay him exactly what he asks, without protest, and if possible, add five or ten rupees more.
With the small sum he receives from you, he won't buy a car, a house, or luxury goods. At day's end, he might return home with a kilogram of rice, lentils, and salt. With your modest contribution, he'll place a handful of rice into the mouths of several half-fed faces.
Just like your loved ones and mine, he too has someone very dear waiting at home. Someone spends the entire day waiting for his return, hoping for that moment.
When he arrives home, perhaps some gaunt, hungry child's face will embrace him with great joy and exclaim, "Oh Papa, what did you bring for me?"
**Two.** Life requires someone who will scold me thoroughly when I make mistakes. Someone whose nagging I can listen to with eyes and ears wide open without feeling the least bit annoyed, whose pointed words won't make me want to look away to escape.
Life needs someone who will embrace me and cry like a child upon hearing of our separation, someone for whom I am the entire world, and the entire world is me.
Someone with whom I'll yearn to watch the moon together at dusk, for whom my heart will ache restlessly in the deep of night. I need that person for whom I can quietly endure all of life's poverty, want, and incompleteness.
May life truly bring someone whose hand, when held, will make me wonder: why is life so brief? Why don't humans live for millions of years?
Believe me, life truly needs such a virtuous soul—someone for whom even heaven would seem trivial!
**Three.** In the end, leaving me behind, you fell so deeply in love with the rain!
May I become rain in your next life and fall upon you!
**Four.** I keep acting foolishly, again and again, and you keep tolerating that foolishness and giving me another chance. If you hadn't forgiven me in those moments, I could never have become so completely yours. You know, when I get angry with you or hurt and fall silent, sometimes saying I'll leave everything behind and go away—right then I remember that I promised myself that no matter what comes, I won't leave you. Then everything becomes right again. You know many more such moments will come when I'll think, damn it, I can't take this anymore—in those moments, I only think about not doing anything foolish.
I know you'll always be there beside me, but until you yourself call and tell me this, a storm keeps raging inside me. And you know, as much as I can tell you everything, I can never speak this way to anyone else.
I do show anger, and I know quite well that in a little while this anger will simply fade away, and then I'll be searching for you again! Yet in the moment of anger, it feels like I should abandon everything and just leave! Do you ever understand that when I'm angry with you, in a single day I install messenger a thousand times, and uninstall it just as many?
Five. You understand me better than I understand myself. Knowing everything about me and truly comprehending me are surely two different things. You can read me—whether I'm angry or hurt, you grasp both. I don't really get angry with anyone anymore, but I don't know why I often feel such deep pain. I've seen that you immediately sense when my heart is heavy.
You understand what I want to say but cannot. The most remarkable thing is that even when I misunderstand you a hundred times, you have never once misunderstood me. Even when I hurt you, you never strike back. You may not always be able to give me much time, but whatever time you do give, you give it entirely to me—you have given it entirely. When I try to express my thoughts to you, I cannot find the language for what I want to convey, but you yourself draw out what lay deep in my heart when you speak with me.
Whatever part of you I've been able to claim as mine, I didn't gain through my love alone—I gained it because you allowed me to be open with you. Often when I say or write something to you, I live in terror that you'll scold me right then and there, or demand an explanation for why I spoke that way! But you astonish me by accepting everything about me.
I tell you that I love you, and rather than saying you love me, you endure me more than anything else. I haven't been able to have you close very much, yet still I can feel you. And you too understand that I miss you terribly, that I love you... If you didn't understand me, you would never grant me such latitude.
Thought: Seven Hundred Forty

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One. A gift remains a gift only as long as it stays secret. Once a third party learns of it—beyond the giver and receiver—it ceases to be a gift and becomes an advertisement.
Two. Listen, I'm not trying to flatter you... nor do I wish to. Can one even flatter someone like you?
Despite how busy you are, you still reply to me, when you can't even give proper time to your own people! What this means to me—how priceless it is, what a blessing—how can I even explain it!
That someone like you shows respect to an utterly ordinary girl like me... all my impertinence, my pestering, my madness that you've endured and continue to endure in complete silence... does anyone else do this, tell me!
Yes, I've been hurt by certain things, felt bewildered, even doubt has crept in... yet I can never bring myself to truly disbelieve! Not at all!
How much it pains me to speak ill of you, to behave badly with you—I could never explain this to you or make you understand.
If you only knew how happy even one text from you makes me, amid all my countless problems! You've always been at the root of whatever little well-being I have. Perhaps that's why even your slightest different behavior hurts so much more.
The small conversations we have—how much joy they bring me! For that joy alone, I feel I could sacrifice so much. It's a strange feeling... impossible to explain. Someone who's never experienced it could never understand.
Knowing you're well keeps me well too. Knowing you're happy and well with your entire family—this truly gives me peace of mind, makes me happy to think that this 'impossible person' of mine is truly doing well.
And now seeing you write even better things makes me happier still. Because I know you love writing most of all.
May you live lovingly with your love, caring for it, cherishing it, finding joy, staying happy, staying content, staying healthy... this is all I desire.
I used to hear that everyone has a dream man. I'd laugh a little at this, then forget about it. I never bothered myself with such things. I don't even now.
And I won't need to anymore. Everyone searches for their dream man according to their dreams. But my dream man came to me and discovered my dream for me.
After you came into my life, I understood that perhaps this is how my dream man was meant to be. Those few days we spent together, these days we're spending now—these times are among the most beautiful in my life... I won't diminish such a precious gift by merely thanking you for it.
If you were here, I would offer you my respects. I acknowledge my gratitude to you for all of this. I will do so for life.
Yes, when we quarrel I say many wrong things, but none of those are what I truly feel, believe me. Anyone who has known you closely cannot help but love you. You are simply that kind of person.
No, I'm not saying this because our relationship is going well... these are my true feelings. This doesn't mean I won't quarrel anymore. Of course I'll quarrel... I'll say wrong things too. Then you'll handle it all with your usual composure, I know. Or if I go too far, perhaps you'll quarrel a little yourself... then again, you'll speak sweet words and charm away my troubles.
What a dear boy! My one and only beloved!
I may be no one to you at all! I have no objection to that, no complaint, not even any regret! Because what I have already received from you without even asking is far more than I could have hoped for without asking!
Please bless me so that I may honor you and this gift of yours throughout my entire life—caring for it with proper respect, tending to it with love, and guarding it close. May I never dishonor you or your gift—no matter what circumstances may come in life!
"You are no one to me, and I am no one to you"—there is a world of difference between these two statements.
Whether I am someone to you or not, you are as precious as life itself to me, or even more. You cannot even imagine how much you mean to me!
Any harm to you, any pain or suffering of yours—I can never accept it, never will be able to. May I die before any such situation arises. Otherwise, I will not be able to bear it.
May you remain very, very well, loving your beloved ones, carrying them with you through life, living joyfully with a happy heart and in good health for many more years... this is what I always pray for.
I have many faults and errors, I know. You forgive me too, I know that as well. I don't know how to express my gratitude for tolerating someone as utterly ordinary as me with such grace.
You are one of the finest gifts of my life, given to me by God himself. May I never dishonor this gift even by mistake throughout my entire life—please give me this blessing, my dear beloved!
Three. Sometimes I think, and feel regret too... oh, if only instead of being born a boy, I could have been born as some poem you truly loved or cherished!
You know too that your greatest reason for living as a human being is your existence as a writer. One could fall in love with you for this reason alone.
This one love of yours—I mean your writing—if there were any way, I would want to live as your writing itself.
Ah, if I could become something like that, then I could be with you all the time! I could spend this entire life caught within your very eyes!
Even if you told me to leave, you could never actually leave me behind! I would then have the chance to take the best care of you! If I could just keep you well, I wouldn't ask God for anything else!
What greater achievement could there be in one lifetime? Oh, how wonderful it would have been if something like that were possible! I feel such regret when I look at this useless human birth!
Thought: Seven Hundred Forty-One

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One. Are you so busy with some royal affairs that you can't even give a reply? That busy? Seriously? What are you doing? Fine. Let it be! You don't have to say anything. Not even a single word!
The problem is mine anyway...why do I always drop everything and remain here for you—here, there, everywhere? It's really not even necessary!
So much happens...yet I never learn my lesson! I make the same mistake again and again. I know I'll do it again after this too.
Much later, you'll give such an excuse that I'll have to say sorry repeatedly to calm your anger! Then what? What happens after that! I'll become exactly what I am! There isn't another fool like me in this world!
Truly helpless, and hopeless too! Still I'm waiting for you! Is this love, or foolishness? Will I never change...! Really strange, yaar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nothing should be given so much priority, so much importance, except one's own career. And that's what's right!
Reality doesn't run on emotions...not at all!
Such madness for someone is nothing but foolishness, whoever they may be!
Career first, then everything else...whoever stays will stay, whoever doesn't won't...this is how it should be!
No one has ever become successful by acting like me, neither will I. This is the truth...
Control your emotion, otherwise it will control you...the words of an English writer.
Absolute truth! There's no greater truth than this!
Two. My messages always reach you properly, you deliberately leave them lying there always...isn't that so?
And me? Like a fool, if I delay even five minutes in seeing your message or replying, how guilty I feel! What a ridiculous thing!
I admit, you can't give me time all day, nor should you. I shouldn't ask for it either.
But what can I do! You've become my habit! Even then I'm not saying to give me time all day. If you give me too much time, when will you work? I also shouldn't actually be lying here like a fool all the time, dropping everything for you.
But...still...
Always leaving messages lying there...despite saying it repeatedly... does it feel good? Last night's incident was exactly...exactly like this!
You work...or if not working, do whatever you were doing...no problem. You don't need to give me time.
You don't have to see my messages. Just as now, whenever you feel the need, only then you see messages or reply...you'll continue doing this even after. No problem. To survive, one has to accept and adjust to so many things! Those who can't accept, can't survive either.
I say so many things to you day and night, you never pay any attention to them. Of course, mad people say all sorts of things, don't they! Can everything be taken seriously? Should it be?
Even replying to me would harm you, waste your time! Whatever...sorry.
You won't have to see my messages anymore except when necessary. I'm saying from my heart, I will never again:
Mind it.

Feel bad either.

Create trouble either.

Fight either.
If you can be well without thinking of me, why can't I? I can, I certainly can. Humans can do everything. When I can, you'll feel bad. When the time comes, you can check if my words prove true.
Three.
You cannot fathom—indeed, you cannot even conceive—what you mean to me, or exactly how special you are...or what priority you hold in my life...or how much of my existence you occupy. Understanding this is beyond you, let alone grasping its true measure.
From the depths of my heart, I hope you never come to understand it in that way, because the pain that such understanding would bring—you could not bear it...I cannot.
Your well-being is all I desire. I never...never want you to suffer or be unhappy in any way.
I have made one mistake. I only ask that you, knowing and understanding, make no further mistakes.
With whomever you find happiness, with whomever you are content, with whomever you remain—stay always happy with them. This is all I ask. Live, love, and exist with a heart full of joy and affection. That is all, simply that! With those you are with, may you find happiness—this alone is my wish.
**Reflection: Seven Hundred and Forty-Two**

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**One.** "Suicide is never a solution"—even the person who says this may suddenly, impulsively, take their own life!
"Whatever happens, I'll never leave you"—even the person who says this may one day walk away in the blazing brightness of noon, hand-in-hand with someone else, right before your eyes.
"I'm leaving you forever"—even the person who says this may tenderly nurture that abandoned soul within their heart for ages upon ages.
The person who constantly starts at the fear of loss may blithely go and make a home in someone else's house.
The person who trembles and cowers in the slightest darkness may one day lie fearless and serene in the thick darkness of the grave.
With time, people's dreams change—sometimes the beloved hand changes too. What a person wants at any given moment, sometimes they themselves cannot fathom.
The truth is, none of us are happy. We are all merely skilled actors, showing everyone—yes, yes, I'm doing wonderfully!
Yet this very phrase "I'm doing wonderfully!" is perhaps the most frequently used, universally accepted perfect lie in the world!
**Two.** I never wanted such an abnormal life. Nothing penetrates my mind anymore. I don't understand where I am or which direction I'm headed. That I love you—there's no doubt about that. But what you say like some madman, what you mean to convey—I understand none of it. If I can never truly have you, then even if I occupy your entire heart, what value does that presence hold? No, I can't even find a path to death now, nor can I find any reason to live. Do you understand at all what it feels like to exist in this state?
What should I do, tell me? Will you keep me dangling like this for the rest of my life? Tell me—what is love? That thing which must be hidden from everyone and cherished secretly in the mind—is that love? I'm a very ordinary person, so I want to live like any other ordinary person. Why do you think I'm so extraordinary? Those who can love from afar and still remain happy—they are people of a much higher order. It will never be possible for me to become like that, nor do I want to. I love you, therefore I want you near me always. Occasionally you'll come to me and go away. You'll exist here and there. You won't leave your present relationship, yet you won't let me go either. Does life work this way? If it does, for how long?
This relationship has no head or tail. How do I make myself understand? What am I living for? I was better off before this. I hadn't told you about my love, yet there was consolation in knowing you knew nothing of it. One could live that way too, but which path should I take now, tell me? My heart wants the earth to split open right now so I can sink into it. Such anguish, such helplessness—I've never felt anything like this in my life. I want to die now. And you speak of how I'll get a job, where I'll be posted, and how you'll come and go there! When will I get a job? When will I be transferred somewhere! Whether anything will happen at all—I don't even know that! Why are you keeping me in such a floating, uncertain state?
I cannot bear all this anxiety. I would rather die this very moment and escape from all these troubles. In any case, I will have to die slowly...gradually, through suffering. Better that what must happen should happen all at once. I have been witnessing all this for so many years, I no longer want to see any of it. I cannot endure it. I feel like turning everything in the world upside down.
I never wanted to speak to you this way. But I truly cannot bear anything anymore. Nothing gives me pleasure. I like no one. I want nothing. Move away from me. Let me be completely alone. I need no one. Whatever happens, let it happen. If I die, I die. Nothing gives me any joy anymore. Leave me to myself.
Whatever your heart desires, whatever you wish, whatever you want to say, whatever you want to do — say it, do it; it makes no difference to me. I will say these things! If I continue to worry like this, I will go mad and die. Very soon I will fall ill!
Three. I have now accepted from my heart that however much is in my destiny, not an iota more than that, no matter how hard I try, will I receive. For any of my sufferings, any unfulfilled desires, anything at all, I will never again come to you with complaints. And never think yourself guilty on my account. If for any reason I am not getting what I want, it means the Creator does not wish me to have more than this. I have accepted this. Sometimes perhaps I forget, and in forgetting I do many things, but I will gradually become whole again.
I have complained to you at various times, at wrong times, spoken words that caused you pain. I will never again, without understanding, burden you unfairly with such blame.