Thursday, December 1, 2011


It's funny how I can't explain how I feel, and yet someone I don't know can do it so accurately it is almost as if he's doing a shrink and reading through me. It's also funny how I feel a kaleidoscope of the gloomiest emotions and yet it can be narrowed into one little word, which Vladimir Nabokov defined well as: "At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”

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