I believe that everything has a reason.
This reason can be concealed or neglected, but it cannot be erased.
I know why, yet I don’t want to.
What’s the problem with me? I am already the luckiest person in the world.
Consequently, I should also be the happiest one.
I am not.
Whoever I am, I am never happy.
WE are never happy. As long as we are still alive, we will never be happy.
Yes, ‘we’-everybody. Inclusive, aggressive.
I don’t want to know why I am doing all these.
The reason, the motive, the purpose.
Whatever. I just want to continue doing all these, nothing else.
“…Two quite distinct scientific institutes.”
“Although their past may be intertwined, they are now independent of each other in their…”
“…It is not infrequently confused with its elder neighbour…”
I really have tried my best to be objective. I really have.
I don’t want to know. I am reading all these lines, yet I don’t want to see them.
I’d rather be confused, I don’t want to know the truth that I always have known.
Don’t remind me of anything.
Don’t mention the word ‘at least’.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be perceptive, I don’t want to be sensitive.
I will open up my ‘bubble’, my only reliable shelter and compatriot, in four days’ time.
No time to hesitate.
Therefore, I don’t want to know.
Actually, not only THAT. There are so many more things about which I don’t want to know.
Why can I empathise with the characters when I am reading literature, but not with real people?
Because the characters are not real. They are certain, that’s exactly where the empathy comes from.
I would like to know everything, because it is NOT the reality.
Ignorance is strength-sorry Mr Orwell.
Aren’t you people good at feeling, instead of judging?
Just let me change the subject. I mean, PEOPLE.
Why are you (plural) always so illogical?
Why do you always associate some completely irrelevant ‘facts’ together, so that you can hypnotise yourself and become so damned happy?
Why do you always apologise after your conspiracies have triumphed?
In this complex of love and hatred-I am lost.
In this labyrinth of solitude and ingratitude-I am still here.
In this mental maze, this paranoid paradise-
What can I really get from it?
“Thank you for doing this for me.”
Selfishness is a beautiful thing. It is our panacea for survival.
Oh sorry, I forgot to put ‘hypocrisy’.
Am I exaggerating things?
You know, I have been thinking…why do we have memories?
Although I am an atheist, I am afraid that the only explanation is-
We have all sinned. It is the punishment.
Memories are here to destroy us.
Perhaps…it needs no explanation anyway.
It's like elaborating some logically linear theories to a certain group of people who live off their sensations. Absolutely pointless.
Memories. I can’t remember. What’s wrong with me? Please, just calm down a bit. See, nothing has ever happened. EVER.
Sorry, what have I written? Am I associating some irrelevant things together, am I going to hypnotise myself?
Eventually…there is no escape. I am the same as all the others.
Am I guilty, because I am rejecting my memories?
I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to know.
There is only one place, one past, one memory, one self.
Excuses. They are so penetrating.
I will wait for you. No worries.
We are here, in this alluring darkness.
I don’t want to know.
I have no reason.
This reason can be concealed or neglected, but it cannot be erased.
I know why, yet I don’t want to.
What’s the problem with me? I am already the luckiest person in the world.
Consequently, I should also be the happiest one.
I am not.
Whoever I am, I am never happy.
WE are never happy. As long as we are still alive, we will never be happy.
Yes, ‘we’-everybody. Inclusive, aggressive.
I don’t want to know why I am doing all these.
The reason, the motive, the purpose.
Whatever. I just want to continue doing all these, nothing else.
“…Two quite distinct scientific institutes.”
“Although their past may be intertwined, they are now independent of each other in their…”
“…It is not infrequently confused with its elder neighbour…”
I really have tried my best to be objective. I really have.
I don’t want to know. I am reading all these lines, yet I don’t want to see them.
I’d rather be confused, I don’t want to know the truth that I always have known.
Don’t remind me of anything.
Don’t mention the word ‘at least’.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be perceptive, I don’t want to be sensitive.
I will open up my ‘bubble’, my only reliable shelter and compatriot, in four days’ time.
No time to hesitate.
Therefore, I don’t want to know.
Actually, not only THAT. There are so many more things about which I don’t want to know.
Why can I empathise with the characters when I am reading literature, but not with real people?
Because the characters are not real. They are certain, that’s exactly where the empathy comes from.
I would like to know everything, because it is NOT the reality.
Ignorance is strength-sorry Mr Orwell.
Aren’t you people good at feeling, instead of judging?
Just let me change the subject. I mean, PEOPLE.
Why are you (plural) always so illogical?
Why do you always associate some completely irrelevant ‘facts’ together, so that you can hypnotise yourself and become so damned happy?
Why do you always apologise after your conspiracies have triumphed?
In this complex of love and hatred-I am lost.
In this labyrinth of solitude and ingratitude-I am still here.
In this mental maze, this paranoid paradise-
What can I really get from it?
“Thank you for doing this for me.”
Selfishness is a beautiful thing. It is our panacea for survival.
Oh sorry, I forgot to put ‘hypocrisy’.
Am I exaggerating things?
You know, I have been thinking…why do we have memories?
Although I am an atheist, I am afraid that the only explanation is-
We have all sinned. It is the punishment.
Memories are here to destroy us.
Perhaps…it needs no explanation anyway.
It's like elaborating some logically linear theories to a certain group of people who live off their sensations. Absolutely pointless.
Memories. I can’t remember. What’s wrong with me? Please, just calm down a bit. See, nothing has ever happened. EVER.
Sorry, what have I written? Am I associating some irrelevant things together, am I going to hypnotise myself?
Eventually…there is no escape. I am the same as all the others.
Am I guilty, because I am rejecting my memories?
I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to know.
There is only one place, one past, one memory, one self.
Excuses. They are so penetrating.
I will wait for you. No worries.
We are here, in this alluring darkness.
I don’t want to know.
I have no reason.
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