Love is when you don't know you are really in love

Encompass'd with a thousand dangers Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand
terrors....

I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

Yet we trust that somehow good
will be the final goal of ill!
To pangs of nature, sins of will
defects of doubt, and taints of blood!

The grim bottom line therefore is that suicide, in a double sense, will prove to be the death of the future.

The flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies;
All that we wish to stay,
Tempts and then flies.

Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury.
Signifying nothing.

My soul is deprived of peace.
I have forgotten what happiness is.
I tell myself that my future is lost

We seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.

To loose your LOVE is to have a thousand lives and have them all end at once!