Page:The story of Mary MacLane (IA storyofmarymacla00macliala).pdf/292

 How long have I lived?

How long must I live?

I am shrieking at you, cold, stupid world.

Oh, the long, long waiting!

The millions of human beings!

I am a human being and there is no one—no one—no one.

Who can know this that has not felt it? You do not know—you can not know.

Surely I do not ask too much. But whether or not it is too much I can not go through the years without it—oh, I can not!

You have lived your nineteen years, fine world, and you have lived through some after years.

But in your nineteen years there was some one to love you.

It is that that counts.

Since you have had that some one, in your nineteen years, can you understand what life is to me—me—in my loneliness?