nevermind.

“Let me catch my breath,” said Mathieu. “Breathe by all means,” said Brunet, “But make haste. Tomorrow you will be too old, you will have acquired your little habits, you will be the slave of your own freedom. And perhaps, too, the world will be too old.”

I cut it off all at once earlier because the tears were choking me. Don’t think I was hostile to you. Never before has a man’s heart been so full of tenderness and despair. No matter where I turn, I only see the night. With you or without you, all is lost. And without you, I don’t have my strength anymore. I think I want to die. I no longer have enough strength to fight against things and against myself, as I have not stopped doing since I was a man. I have the strength to go to bed, that’s all. Lie down and turn my head against the wall, and wait. As for still fighting my illness and being stronger than my own life, I don’t know when I’ll regain the power. Don’t worry though. I guess everything will work out. There’s your letter and everything else, the faith I still have in you, and the stubborn desire I have to see you happy. Goodbye, my love. Don’t forget the one who loved you more than his life. And don’t be angry with me.