Being unhappy is a crime towards the life itself

- I hate birthdays. I hate every new age. It's a countdown to my death.
- There's no sense in living like that. You can't live hating each new year, you simply can't possibly enjoy your life like that. Be sensible: you can't do anything about this matter, so why worry about it?
- Exactly, I can't do anything about this matter! I can merely stand and watch the time pass. It's like running blind towards a cliff not knowing when you're going to fall. The powerlessness makes me frustrated, angry and sad, because I just want to live.
- I know you love your life but you should focus on the things that are good and see that you get so many of those amazing experiences and places and people every single year that comes, instead of worrying about the time that has been given to you. You can't live like that, woman!
- I know what it sounds like. And I highly appreciate you being able to live like you do. It makes me envious. But I couldn't live like that. This is what my life is like. It makes me real, and it makes me feel this world. It makes me feel it through my fingertips and eyes and ears and love each single detail I see. In this world everything is inspiring. Everything is beautifully complex or beautifully simple. Feelings are true and pure but not overwhelming. And then in the right scale nothing has any purpose or any significance whatsoever. In the most beautiful moments when I look around I see the world as if it was already gone. The fact that evidently everything I see will be lost in time forever makes me want to cry tears that spring from both happiness and powerless sorrow. Knowing that everything I have is borrowed as if I was already dead makes it all a billion times more beautiful. My life is to sadly love what I see. And to feel I never want to leave this world.

Hillitä veren ja ruumiin rajua kiihkoa, joka pistelee silmiäni mielettömällä riemulla

When I read the thoughts of these men of 19th or 20th century I feel a great desire to be able to see myself facing the inevitable death full of such blissful peace that M felt. But even though I can very well say I've been happy like him, I don't think I would be capable of accepting such horrifying destiny without being crushed by endless terror. Sometimes in the night time when I listen to allah akbar thinking of the desert at night I feel strong longing and insensible restlessness, for I believe that after seeing that view I might be able to die happy. After that feeling I might be able to pinpoint my location in the universe and state that I know what I am. And yet all of a sudden I can see myself lying on the golden sand watching my life slip through my fingers. If something happened to me in the desert, I might die in front of the most beautiful sight of my life but I would nonetheless be filled with horror.

Lev Nikolajevits Myskin tells about a man sentenced to death, who splits his very last five minutes to three parts: two minutes for saying farewell to his loved ones, two minutes for thinking about himself and his life and the last minute for looking around. And I think I would stare at the sky trying to see all of the universe behind it, feel myself a part of it and be happy and thankful for my life. How can I ever leave this world?