Alexander Pelevin. I only live here (№ 349701)

You're devastated, and now you're sick of yourself, from the countless reflections, twins, from thousands and thousands of people that you try on; from scattered around the masks, from fear, from the eternal obsessive thoughts, from the sound of his own voice. Every wall, every object in this house is a mirror - wherever you huddled wherever he decided to run away, will only see yourself. You're sick, but nothing could vomit out because you're sick of your own emptiness. Yes, that's what you've become.
Only you can fill yourself.
"Shut up," Peter said.