I drift in between moods of depression, normal-ness and highness these a days.
I can't stop crying.
At moments I feel I have already gotten over it.
Then I suddenly start crying. For no apparent reason.
The tears come so quickly.
And so strangely.
I'm trying to stop it.
Whenever someone talks about it, I feel a pang.
I don't begrudge them anything.
It's just the feeling that -- that I was never good enough.
That I wanted it so bad, but I just wasn't good enough.
The last stroke of midnight dies. (Yeats)
