I shouldn't be up now since I have to wake in four hours' time, but this happens to be one of those nights when the mind decides to consume itself. Two hours spent flipping on the bed seemed like an eternity; and no amount of bashing the head against the pillow helped towards an earlier concussion. Camus' words rang loudly: "Have you never had a sudden need for sympathy, for help or for friendship? Of course you have. I have learned to make do with sympathy. It is easier to come by and it carries no commitment. Friendship is not so easy: it's long and hard to win, but when it's there, you can't get rid of it, you have to make do." Sympathy, even you are on a break tonight. It is no wonder the old English lady committed suicide in the end after noting everyday: "Today, nobody came." There'll be cake to eat at training later, to celebrate the birthdays of those born in January and February. I feel proud of myself for buying a strawberry shortcake. Yet at the same time I worry it is too small—it is probably just right for fifteen people but there will be twenty going tomorrow. Do you know that people kill themselves over such trivial matters? In fact, it is usually over the most trivial of matters that one decides to die. A character who kills herself because the cake she bought is not big enough for twenty people: that's ingenious. And people, they do not see how they are the ones responsible for her death. If only they had promptly replied to her invitation. Now she's dead because the cake is not enough for everyone.
No comments:
Post a Comment