Whenever I see scenes that contrast with my own reality, I realize how lonely I am. At first, I feel like crying, but soon this feeling turns into seething hatred. Faced with the absurdity of knowing that—quite possibly—I will never have sex; I will never be loved, and I am condemned to a life of solitary pain; I rethink the futility inherent in this existence, and how everything in it is vile, everything is misshapen. This world should disappear until nothing remains, not just be destroyed. I want this life to go to hell. It makes no difference to live another day. Who was the tyrant who created this world? I have complete disdain for the chance that created me, for nothing and for nothing. If one individual doesn't have it, everyone couldn't have it.
