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.

I have the strangest thoughts in my head, maybe I should not write them down.

I still don't know if things fit together, or if everything will be all right in the end. But I believe that something means something. I believe in cleansing the soul through fun and games. I also believe in love. And I have several good friends, and just one bad one.

Everything which is human is alien to me.

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.

When the universe is ephemeral, one can easily feel that human existence is meaningless. Why should I do anything at all? On the other hand it is tempting to try and make the best of it. I'm here, anyway. The imagination won't cope if I try to picture where I'd otherwise be.

…I don’t wish to meet people. They disgust me. Increasingly so. But I must have milk.

The only question that really counts, must be thins one: are things getting better or are they getting worse?

I know a helluva lot. I'm not the only one who knows these things. Many people know more than I do. That's fortunately not my problem. My problem is what I am supposed to use it for. What do I do with it? It's confusing.

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.

It's good for me to see so many other people who are not me. That there are so many others. I feel affection for them. Most of them are doing the best they can. I am also doing the best I can.