Sorel, en el bullicio de Paris, se sentía el hombre más solo del mundo, y buscaba en vano un guía que le diera un mínimo de orientación.

En terapia descubrí que el psicoterapéuta/psicólogo/psiquiatra es la única persona con la que puedo hablar de mis problemas sin causarle tristeza/estrés/enojo. Sin embargo, es obvio que no le importa más allá de intercambiar una propuesta de solución por dinero. Quizá es una prueba más de que realmente estamos solos (no sé si todos, pero al menos yo sí) y si de pura casualidad logras mantener a tus demonios lejos de tu  vida cotidiana, puedes tener una buena vida. Si no, pues... no lo sé... supongo que o te dejas llevar y te vuelves una de esas personas nubladas, atascadas en placebos, o te mantienes luchando hasta que te de un infarto de tanto estrés. ¿Hay alguien ahí?

Se ganó la lotería

Llegó a su casa y se dio un balazo. :D

Sometimes you don't know what the fuck is happening with you, and you think that maybe someone can help you, someone wiser. But nobody can help you. You just have to take yourself through uncertainty or you're dead.

When will this end?

Some people are sad because they think they are a burden to others.
Some people are so alone that they would love to be a burden to others.
To be a burden means that someone cares enough to not let you behind.
Am I a burden? should I be left behind? should I be buried alive?
If i'm not useful anymore, why am I still living?
Maybe i'm not even a burden and i'm just so pretentious to think that someone cares enough for me.
Years ago I thought I was smart and open minded. But now I am just a jerk. Another middle class dumb fuck. What potential still lies within me?
Should I end it all?
How I envy those without a troubled mind.
Now I see why L was so mad at me years ago.
Who would want to spend time with a depressive idiot. A useless, gloom idiot with zero creativity and no talent.
So many regretful things.
The memories that still haunt me.
I wish I could start over again.

He noticed one day how the thought of shooting his brains out was born. The thought ordered his ideas for a split second. For a brief moment everything was ok, because he was dead. No worries. No misunderstandings. Loneliness was all nonsense now. Then he woke up and continued eating.

Hasta para deprimirse se necesita dinero. Tanta gente que se suicida y tanta otra gente que finge preocuparse. Algunos quizá nacimos sin futuro.