You will eventually conclude that I am unable to get attached: very well, very well… almost there! And the day will come — that seems evident to me — when I will no longer endure myself. For the conclusion is obvious: I see in everything ill… and I do not think I am too special… Yet I like my own cynicism, and that gives me strength, distinguishes me from the world around me. I wonder for how long… But what options would I have to my exotic nature? I say, I am already contaminated. Could I, today, in this state, say words of hope? Would I believe myself an exception? Make my mind a theater (how do I do with my relationships)? There is no way… my cynicism would never allow. I see in the others just what dwells and throbs in myself, so I undoubtedly head my list of the damned. With the difference, however, of conscience and sarcastic smile on his face…
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