How infuriating! People have suffered all kinds of miseries, and you are mocking them! You grind your teeth and spit nonsense out of sheer ingratitude! How terrible! You have been showered with numerous blessings, yet you are still ill. How dare you! You have truly offended the heavens and above!
What a fraud! You want people to love you while you yourself are incapable of it. You would get down on your knees and beg people not to leave just for you to walk away the next day. You would cross multiple boundaries while hating the mere idea of your personal space being invaded. It is as though your sole aim was to subjugate them, to tyrannize them, and nothing else.
The contradictions! Truly, you are in grave danger! You get tormented by your own imaginations and then blame it all on the universe! But you are content as long as you can point your fingers at the law of nature and pretend that everything is out of your hands. But of course, there is no enemy to punish; it is only you to be blamed! That was your ruin! It is beyond dispute!
Something seems to be surging up within you, crawling up dreadfully from your soul — something, a feeling of which you do not have a clue but somehow never deserts you. It was just as though you were missing a limb, like a huge chunk of your heart had been taken away. So you immerse yourself with books and other things to console yourself, to find refuge — to give you both pleasure and pain, to feel whole and content, because nothing in your surroundings ever interests you. Because ENNUI overcame you. This disease! This incurable disease has been laid upon you!
The entitlement! To have such audacious thinking! To tell people to find small enjoyment in the midst of all sufferings while living a life of deception! A completely made-up life! Like you wouldn’t be the first in line to erase your existence if ever given the chance! It is not only because you cannot feel happiness; it is because you cannot feel anything at all. You simply cannot become anything; neither kind nor petty; neither sane nor mad.
You have become loathsome to all mankind because you are fearfully afraid of being uncovered and denied! Oh, the horror of it all! To let people see your unmasked and true persona! To see the look on their faces as they stare at the horrid sight of your bare soul with disgust and grimace, “WHAT A DISGRACE!”
Look at you! Shamelessly hiding the itch on the stage just to turn back and scratch it violently after the curtain falls. How absolutely hilarious! The hypocrisy of it all! Even now, you speak of yourself, yet cowardly use the word ‘you’ as if to evade accountability. As if.
I shall begin to put on an act and savor this hell of unsatisfied reality! I shall craft an exquisite deceit and continue to lie and lie! I shall have this façade for eternity; such is my fate!
“I shall begin smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it isn’t the beastliness of it that matters most! There is something more important, more loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! And to put on that dishonest lying mask again! …” — Notes from underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
