lost in heaven, high as hell

...I still wait for someone. Who on earth am I waiting for? For what sort of person? Maybe what I’m waiting for isn’t a human. I dislike humans. No, I fear them. When I meet someone and indifferently exchange such greetings as ‘How are you?’ or ‘It’s become cold,’ greetings I don’t want to make, I somehow get the unpleasant feeling that there is no such horrible liar in the world as I, and I wish I were dead. Also, the other people, too, are unduly wary of me and use diplomatic speech which tries very hard to be harmless and inoffensive, and relate their pompous, false feelings. As I listen to it all, I find their petty cautiousness deplorable, and the world becomes more and more unbearably odious. Are ‘people in the world’, I wonder, creatures that spend their whole lives greeting each other in stiff, formal patterns, being cautious about each other, then growing tired of each other? I hate meeting people.

I couldn’t the least imagine any female liking me once she had seen my face.

Yesterday’s beliefs may become tomorrow’s doubts, and today’s doubts may melt away in tomorrow’s sun.