About these things, I have already accepted my condition, I have already understood that the things of the world are not for me, the world is not for people like me, now I have to move on, I will never be normal, that is a fact
Nature and natural selection are right, but it's already enough for me, I'm already being punished in whatever way it can be, now I have to live with these burdens and continue my life like a wounded animal would even if he is destined to die
I want peace, whatever it may be, I don't want to keep holding on to this mourning for the things I can't have, for the person I can't be, i might be a loser and if I am i have to leave
"Or do I then
Belong, after all, to the earth?
Why, if not so, should the earth
Show such swiftness to encompass my fall?
Granting no space to think or feel,
Why did the soft, indolent earth thus
Greet me with the shock of steel plate?
Did the soft earth thus turn to steel
Only to show me my own softness?
That Nature might bring home to me
That to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things,
More natural by far than that improbable passion?
Is the blue of the sky then a dream?
Was it devised by the earth, to which I belonged,
On account of the fleeting, white-hot intoxication
Achieved for a moment by waxen wings?
And did the heavens abet the plan to punish me?
To punish me for not believing in myself
Or for believing too much;
Too earger to know where lay my allegiance
Or vainly assuming that already I knew all;
For wanting to fly off
To the unknown
Or the known:
Both of them a single, blue speck of an idea?"
Nature and natural selection are right, but it's already enough for me, I'm already being punished in whatever way it can be, now I have to live with these burdens and continue my life like a wounded animal would even if he is destined to die
I want peace, whatever it may be, I don't want to keep holding on to this mourning for the things I can't have, for the person I can't be, i might be a loser and if I am i have to leave
"Or do I then
Belong, after all, to the earth?
Why, if not so, should the earth
Show such swiftness to encompass my fall?
Granting no space to think or feel,
Why did the soft, indolent earth thus
Greet me with the shock of steel plate?
Did the soft earth thus turn to steel
Only to show me my own softness?
That Nature might bring home to me
That to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things,
More natural by far than that improbable passion?
Is the blue of the sky then a dream?
Was it devised by the earth, to which I belonged,
On account of the fleeting, white-hot intoxication
Achieved for a moment by waxen wings?
And did the heavens abet the plan to punish me?
To punish me for not believing in myself
Or for believing too much;
Too earger to know where lay my allegiance
Or vainly assuming that already I knew all;
For wanting to fly off
To the unknown
Or the known:
Both of them a single, blue speck of an idea?"
