The sense of unhappiness is so much easier to convey than that of happiness. In misery we seem aware of our own existence, even though it may be in the form of a monstrous egotism: this pain of mine is individual, this nerve that winces belongs to me and to no other. But happiness annihilates us: we lose our identity.
If you want to leave, you can. I’ll remember you, though. I remember everyone who leaves.
Listen, are you just breathing a little and calling it a life?