"As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me"

The line draws a sharp boundary between pain that has shape and pain that doesn’t. Sadness is heavy, but it is at least identifiable; it comes with contours, causes, and a path, however winding, toward relief. Uncertainty, by contrast, is a restless ache. It interrupts closure, keeps the mind circling, and turns grief into an open loop. Cognitive science names this the need for cognitive closure and the Zeigarnik effect: unfinished stories tug harder than finished ones. Not knowing invites imagination to fill the gaps, often with the worst versions of events. The result is a compounded suffering where sadness is amplified by anxiety, suspicion, and self-reproach.

There is also a moral dimension. Knowledge confers agency. When we know, we can decide, grieve, seek help, apologize, fight, or let go. When we don’t, we hesitate, rehearse conversations that never happen, and defer life while waiting for an answer that may not arrive. The statement recognizes that the mind would rather endure a difficult truth than be stranded in ambiguity. Even bad news can feel like a relief because it restores a sense of ground underfoot.

Stephen Chbosky often writes about adolescence, a time when identity, relationships, and the future are all uncertain. The feeling here resonates with that liminal space: longing for clarity from friends, family, or oneself, and confronting how silence or secrecy magnifies hurt. It also speaks to contemporary life, where delayed messages, mixed signals, and endless possibilities create a fog of worry. Clarity, even imperfect, becomes an act of care.

The practical wisdom is twofold. First, seek answers when they can be found; ask the hard questions. Second, cultivate tolerance for ambiguity when answers are not available; learn to hold open loops without letting them devour attention. Truth may sting, but it allows sadness to become sorrow, and sorrow to become meaning. Not knowing suspends us; knowing sets the terms for healing.