Solitude Desolates Me; Company Oppresses Me.

It's In An Inland Sea That The River Of My Life Ended.

My Past Is Everything I Failed To Be.

I Want To Be A Work Of Art, At Least In My Soul, Since I Can’t Be One In My Body.

All I’ve Ever Done Is Dream. That, And Only That, Has Been The Meaning Of My Existence. The Only Thing I’ve Ever Really Cared About Is My Inner Life. My Greatest Griefs Faded To Nothing The Moment I Opened The Window Onto My Inner Self And Lost Myself In Watching. I Never Tried To Be Anything Other Than A Dreamer. I Never Paid Any Attention To People Who Told Me To Go Out And Live. I Belonged Always To Whatever Was Far From Me And To Whatever I Could Never Be. Anything That Was Not Mine, However Base, Always Seemed To Be Full Of Poetry. The Only Thing I Ever Loved Was Pure Nothingness.

I Don't Know What I Feel Or What I Want To Feel. I Don't Know What To Think Or What I Am.