Book: Diaries. Page 4

This clear ogranichennosti the human body is terrible.

My life, with its monotonous the smallest details like days of punishment, in which the student depending on his guilt have ten times, a hundred times or more to write a sentence, by the repetition turned into nonsense, just me talking about the punishment - "as many times as you make it."

The reason experienced by me when talking with people difficulties difficulties, unknown to others - is that my thinking, or rather, the content of my consciousness is very vague, I myself, while it only concerns me, serene and sometimes even smugly assured, but because the human conversation requires acuity, support and continuous connectivity - that is what is not in me. Nobody wants to soar with me in the misty clouds, and even if anyone wants, I won't be able to drive the fog from his head - between two people he will melt and become nothing.

All - fantasy: family, service, friends, street; everything is fantasy, more distant or more close, and the wife - fantasy; the closest is the truth just that you're banging your head against the wall of the chamber, in which there are neither Windows nor doors.

How bad to be a bachelor, an old man ask for, with the labor saving advantage to visit when you want to spend the evening with people wearing one yourself going home, anyone with a lazy confidence not to wait up, only with the stress or frustration to make someone a gift to say goodbye at the gate, never to climb the stairs with his wife, cheering, consoling himself only with the view from your window, unless, of course, unable to get up, to live in the room door which lead into the lives of others, to feel estranged relatives with whom you can remain in friendship through marriage - first marriage of their parents, then a private marriage, to marvel at other people's children and not to dare constantly repeating: I don't, because the family of one person grows to experience a sense of the immutability of their age, their appearance and behavior to be on one or two bachelors from the memories of his youth.

Thirst bespredelnichat loneliness. To be eye to eye with himself.

Sleepless night. Is the third in a row. I can sleep, but Wake up an hour later like she stuck her head in a nonexistent hole.

I just sometimes live in a small word, in his accent for example, I momentarily lose anything not suitable the head ("blow" above). The first and the last letter is the beginning and the end of my feelings caught fish.

Today I hesitate even to make yourself reproaches. They will be performed in this empty day, they would have a disgusting echo.

Young, neat, well-dressed youths near me in the gallery remind me of youth, and therefore produce a repulsive impression.

I came to the conclusion that avoiding people is not then, to live in peace and die in peace.

All that is possible happens. Perhaps only that happens.

What suffering have I neither the suffering nor have her, there's no comparison with the suffering that was in store for us together.

The personality of the writer that is essentially what that disadvantages everyone covers on its own special style.