Life is, to some extent, an extended dialogue with your future self about how exactly you are going to let yourself down over the coming years.

How do you convince someone to change, to stop being afraid of himself? How do you convince yourself not to be so scared all the time?

This is what you have to ask yourself: Do you want to be good, or just seem good? Do you want to be good to yourself and others? Do you care about other people, always, sometimes, never? Or only when convenient? What kind of person do you want to be?

I am transcribing a book that I have, in a sense, not yet written, and in another sense, have always written, and in another sense, am currently writing, and in another sense, am always writing, and in another sense, will never write.

Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience... It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter.

You can just sit in here, impervious and invisible. So invisible you might even forget yourself.

I had forgotten: this is what it feels like to live in time. The lurching forward, the sensation of falling of a cliff into darkness, and then landing abruptly, surprised, confused, and then starting the whole process again in the next moment, doing that over and over again, falling into each instant of time and then climbing back up only to repeat the process.