03.01.2025
S: There is one sure way into hell. Fall in love with one that does not love you.
A: Forget.
S: Do you know, to relieve a cat of stress, all you need is a cardboard box? It is a refuge, a hiding place. I am a man and a cardboard box cannot do. Instead I lie in my bed, unable to rise. The bed is my box. The refuge and the hiding place. The thoughts pin you down, the ache.
A: But in the end, you do rise.
S: Somehow. It is a massive effort of will.
A: What is the bed?
S: It is death. I am in love with death. When Freud wrote of the death instinct, he was right. When your love is not fulfilled, that is what you crave. Death.
A: Don’t let them win. Do not die.
S: Every day, I play at death. But then life comes. Life over death. Love over hate, apathy and indifference. Death is so sweet, so sweet.
A: You will beat this. Think of them. Nothing touches them. They have a train of admirers, one after the other. You are nothing to them. They do not think of you. They never loved you.
S: The mind says to live. The heart says to die. We will see the result when the sun rises once more.
A: Think of the present.
S: The past is precarious and the present is uncertain. Does the future hold any hope?
diary of a lone man 