From so much self-revising, I’ve destroyed myself. From so much self-thinking, I’m now my thoughts and not I

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.

Ah, it's my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me!

My past is everything I failed to be.

I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.