I do not know whether I hate that I am alone, or hate that I am alone in a world of human beings. When I try to picture what sort of life I want to live, it is always solitary, isolated, or better, one where I am the sole remaining human. But when I picture what it is that I want most, it is to hold someone else. Why or how this comes to be, I cannot explain, and the mere thought of it fills me with frustration. I can imagine no purer torture than loneliness or company.

I have a feeling that just a single instant of love would be enough to sustain me for a thousand years of solitude. I could live forever satisfied or die that instant with no regret.