So there you have it: two things and I can’t bring them together, and they are wrenching me apart. These two feelings, this knowledge of a world so awful, this sense of a life so extraordinary – how am I to resolve them?
[…] A cold paralyzing horror: a glimpse into the subhuman… the sickness of life beginning again: the exhausting awareness of every ache. What the hand does in reaching, a misery of awareness; loss of memory in small things; hatred of necessary routines; hatred but not fear of dark; watching the skin, the fingers; overeating; a full preoccupation with unnecessary tasks; weakness in the morning; fear of headlights; distrust of children; a tide of loss.
(Theodore Roethke, notebooks)