Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me.

What I saw wasn't a ghost. It was simply--myself. I can never forget how terrified I was that night, and whenever I remember it, this thought always springs to mind: that the most frightening thing in the world is our own self. What do you think?

She was, if anything, on the plain side, at least not the type to attract men wherever she went. But there was something in her face that was meant for me alone. Everytime we met, I took a good look at her. And loved what I saw.

Our responsibility begins with our imagination.

But the silence spoke volumes.

I am nothing. I’m like someone who’s been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.

I think of myself as more the non-turn-on type. so when I do get turned on, I don’t trust it, I have to investigate the source.