The days flowed by and got faded like the colours of that postcard… Every time we think about being happy again, it hurts to be alive. Because it seems an inordinate thing for us to wish for. And because we think that day will never come, for us. And that’s why the only thing we can do for now is just try to get through each night.
— Chica Umino, Honey and Clover (via maduhmoiselle)