After a moment, still breathing heavily, I felt a clear pinpoint of light ignite within me, and then I found myself writing this amused and ever-calm reply:

过了一会儿，依然喘着大气的我，感觉有个清晰的光点在我内心燃起，而后我发现自己写下这句 顽皮而平静的回答：

Who are you talking to, then?

那么你在跟谁讲话？

I haven't doubted its existence again since. So tonight I reach for that voice again. This is the first time I've done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal tonight is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I'm scared they will never leave. I say that I don't want to take the drugs anymore, but I'm frightened I will have to. I'm terrified that I will never really pull my life together.

从此我不再怀疑它的存在。因此今晚我再次联系这个声音。这是我来意大利之后头一次做这件事。 我在日记里说我感到软弱，充满恐惧。我说抑郁和寂寞跑来了，我害怕它们永远不会离开。我说不想再吃药，却害怕非吃不可。我担心自己永远无法振作起来。

In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing to myself on the page:

某种现已十分熟悉的存在降临在我内心某处，做出回应，给我肯定；在我遇上麻烦时，一直希望另一个人能告诉我一切。我在纸上写给自己这段话：

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

我在这里。我爱你。我不管你是否必须彻夜哭泣，我会跟你待在一起。你若需要再度服药，就服吧——我还是一样爱你。你若不需要药物，我也会爱你。无论你做什么，都不会失去我的爱。我会保护你，至死不渝，在你死后，我仍会保护你。我比抑郁强大，比寂寞勇敢，没有任何事能让我筋疲力竭。

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship—the lending of a hand from me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace—reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glimpse of myself in a security mirror's reflection. In that moment my brain did an odd thing—it fired off this split-second message: "Hey! You know her! That's a friend of yours!" And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant, of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness in Rome, and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page:

今晚，内心里这个奇特的友善姿态——当身边没有人提供安慰时，我向自己伸出援手——使我回想起有回在纽约发生的事。某天下午，我匆匆走进一栋办公大楼，奔向等着的电梯。我跑进去的当儿，出奇不意地在安全镜里瞥见自己的倒影。我的脑子在那一刻做了件古怪的事，瞬间发射出以下这则信息：嗨，你认识她啊！那是你的朋友啊！而我竟然朝自己的倒影跑上前去，面带微笑，准备欢迎这个我忘了姓名、脸孔却很熟悉的女孩。当然，转瞬间，我意识到自己的错误，为自己像狗一样对镜子瞧感到困惑，尴尬地笑了起来。但由于某种原因，今晚在罗马，在我哀伤之时，这件插曲再度涌入我的脑际，于是我在页底写下这段勉励的句子：

Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.

永远别忘记很久以前，在一个没有防备的时刻，你曾把自己看成朋友。

I fall asleep holding my notebook pressed against my chest, open to this most recent assurance. In the morning when I wake up, I can still smell a faint trace of Depression's lingering smoke, but he himself is nowhere to be seen. Somewhere during the night, he got up and left. And his buddy Loneliness beat it, too.
Eat, Pray, Love

我接受这最新的鼓励，拿着笔记本按在胸口睡着了。早晨醒来时，我还依稀闻得到抑郁留下的烟雾，但他本人已不见踪影。他在夜间起身离开了。他的伙伴寂寞也滚蛋了。