I think I already foresee my old age—lying alone on a hospital bed, enduring physical pain. Though my body can no longer handle alcohol, I still can't fall asleep... recounting all the crazy things I did in my youth. This is fine, at least I lived, right? It's good that I came, but is it really good enough? Actually, I can't bear to leave this world. The feeling of eternal sleep is truly terrible. Maybe it would be better if I never came to this world... then I wouldn't have so much pain. So, what is the meaning of life? I also want sweet love, I also want something eternal and unchanging, but all of this seems like...