He remembers those vanished years.
As though looking through a dusty window pane,
the past is something he could see, but not touch.
And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.

How does one know something is absolute when they see it? I don't claim to ever have been in love before. I am young, I like to think one day it will happen.

Opportunities slip through our fingers; everyone has lost the chance to pursue a path to a different life. Perhaps I could know love even at such a young age if I had talked to that brunette who I shared a smile with or spent just a couple more minutes in that coffee shop with the girl who liked my choice in novels. I'll never know.

The weight of regret and shame these two characters must feel knowing they watched it slip away must be unbearable. Happiness was within reach, you could have let it swallow you up and spit you out into a new being, but you bit your tongue and moved on to be devoured by contrition.

Love must be such a rare thing. Everything is somewhat of a rare thing. Nothing is guaranteed. Take every chance at happiness you can get. The biggest moral responsibility people owe is to themselves.