What uneasiness lies in being loved.

Mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.

I was afraid to board a streetcar because of the conductor; I was afraid to enter the Kabuki Theater for fear of the usherettes standing along the sides of the red-carpeted staircase at the main entrance; I was afraid to go into a restaurant because I was intimidated by the waiters furtively hovering behind me waiting for my plate to be emptied.

I like roses best. But they bloom in all four seasons. I wonder if people who like roses best have to die four times over again.

All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it? - I don't know.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today.

What uneasiness lies in being loved.