From a Notebook Lost: The Same and The Other 18
Whether it be an end or a beginning it be and end or beginning. It starts and finishes only to start and finish. See the true monotony of all. The vanity and futility of all. It be empty and hollow and full of sorrow an I. A deep mourning and grief overcomes me. My eyes well up with tears and I cannot stop from sobbing and crying. I now realize nothing. I know and understand nothing. I am nothing and that be all. I fell only pain, and that is my remembrance and memory of existence. I have fallen into a pit of which I see no exit. This be my lot in life. Why must I have remembrance and memory, for these and those things haunt me. They are my ghosts. Oh, how they torment me. Now do I have a moment of peace and quiet. Continuous bombardment on mine mind, mine body. Never do I have quiet and stillness or silence. How dreadful is my existence. How wretched is my life. Will all never end? How cursed am I? The gods look down upon me and scoff, jeer, and mock me. Am I their court jester? A fool, an idiot, a moron, one whom they can amuse themselves with. This be my lot in life. Will all never end? Why must I exist? I am the gods hapless, witless, puppet. I move not, do not, go not, unless by their command. This must be it, for I perceive no point, reason, meaning, to anything and everything. I exist only to be used by the gods, to do and be nothing, but a pawn. They play with me as a child does with a toy. Tossing me to and fro and about like a ball. Must this be my existence. Will I never get an end? This be my lot in life.