The Hours

"Dear Leonard. To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours."

Yes, it's done. I've come to terms that I'm not the self-suficient man I wish I were. These hours... oh these hours between me and everyone else. And the love between us... never into us. I'm surely being unfair here...

But what's to do when you realize... you realize that the life you chose isn't as wonderful... and you find yourself covering the silence with supposed parties in which the only guest is yourself?

What's to do when you realize you're not sad anymore...

You're unhappy.