I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

Should have said something, but I grew timid. Should have asked of destiny, should have just asked. All I can do now is hope and cry. Is there someone who would be better for you? I think there is. I just can’t say. Of course, I’ve though that someone wanted the certain answer from me before. I was wrong. Don’t let me be wrong this time. And if I am wrong- let me be brave, so I may know. Only love can make you cry.

I think it’s actually extremely rare to be in a situation where all you can do is hope and cry. In all likelihood you can look for an answer, ask someone a question, or just talk to someone about what’s bothering you. All these are infinitely better solutions.