Everything which is human is alien to me.

I don't want all that much. But I want to be fine. I want to live a simple life with many good moments and a lot of fun.

There are too many confusing things present. Things I know. Thoughts I have. Sarcasm. Things I think I ought to be doing and places I ought to be going. Always other places.

Everything which is human is alien to me.

Everything seemed meaningless to me. All of a sudden. My own life, the lives of others, of animals of plants, the whole world. It no longer fitted together.

I don't think I am any different from other people. I have the same dreams. I want a family. I want a house. A car. Why shouldn't I want that? Everybody does. And when I have it, I want it all to work.

I think I'm more concerned with things that are very big and things that are very small than with all the stuff in between.