"Tengo sensed, too, that something very like desire was growing inside him. This was the first time in his life he had ever experienced such a feeling. All through high school and college, his judo coach and older teammates would often say to him, “You have the talent and the strength, and you practice enough, but you just don’t have the desire.” They were probably right. He lacked that drive to win at all costs, which is why he would often make it to the semifinals and the finals but lose the all-important championship match. He exhibited these tendencies in everything, not just judo. He was more placid than determined. It was the same with his fiction. He could write with some style and make up reasonably interesting stories, but his work lacked the strength to grab the reader by the throat. Something was missing."
— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
I hate Septembers. Always the same feelings. Anxiety. Listlessness. Fear. Sadness. The feeling that I’m going nowhere.
Sure would be nice if I was randomly spoiled every now and then.
"You know I dreamed about you
For 29 years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for, for 29 years"