What is it like to have a dream?
I’m beginning to understand that feeling.
I feel that...it's innocent and dazzling, like something at the bottom of a cave. No matter how much you stretch out your hand, you can’t reach it. A place of deep despair.
The good friends I’ve made here shine from a place that I can never reach.
You also shine with light.
Back then, I didn’t understand how you could be so diligent and hardworking for such a boring thing. I was too desperate to live, and because of that, I missed the point.
What forced me to become like that? I was running away. It’s unsightly of me to place the blame elsewhere.
Now, I don’t find your goal boring. It's the opposite: I’m envious of you.
Can I still grasp hold of it now? Grasp hold of the thing on the very bottom, the unreachable...the thing that might not even be there.
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