I am my heart’s undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow. I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone. MELANCHOLY

(Explanation:- A feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.)