I miss beauty
Sometimes I wish I hadn't anything in the world so I could just die in peace
As you gather more things to love in your life the harder it is to live
I would have very easily tossed my life away 10 years ago or even 5 for something so perfect but now I feel that I have too much to lose I can't give it all up for myself or a perfect beauty 
I feel stuck and my apprehension is worse than anything that could be real, or solid in its absolute  
A life being observed is prosaic and that of one being lived is a homily 
It's an illusion to feel anything at all, It's imperfect
I exist and no longer live, a curious humor that was torn away from my own indignation 
I love everyone and no one
It's perfectly humorous