Ever since then, the priest no longer knew what there was to live for. Having nothing left to live for was both pitiful and shameful. He was neither happy nor content. The moments of having and losing had long since become old history, turning over and over in his mind. If he gave in to loneliness, he would have nothing at all, becoming the loneliest one left waiting and watching. So he might as well shut himself away. He would feel no warmth, but he would not be hurt either.
Every morning, he watched the neon lights on the street corner fade in the first light of dawn. Even the most exuberant youth would come to an abrupt end. His own youth had not even begun, yet its death was already certain...
Why did he have to meet someone like that, someone who always smiled and showed off an inexhaustible supply of happiness? That person always left him wanting to flee in humiliation. He didn’t want to see that smile or all those tender gestures. Better to give up cleanly than to lose it all in the end, right? But what was he really unwilling to accept?
It turned out he, too, longed for the freedom and wildness of youth. More and more, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of that person’s hand.
Then he would just hold on tighter, and never let go.
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