July 4th Ball, 1921

I don’t want them to see me as I see those. Dreaming of white walls. Dreaming of idleness. Having the time to read. Having the time dream. I don’t want those to see me as I see them.

Temporary relief from a temporary headache. Temporary.

Committed. If only. But the heartbreak would ensue. The pleasure it would give me, and the pain it would give you. Two? Oh no! Not two.

At least you’re normal Stephen. At least your mind works. Well, I don’t think it really does anymore.

I’ve got everything I wanted now. But the days still drag. There’s no reason to cry, there’s nothing that I lack. Why is it then that I can’t get up for my vocation? I despise loneliness, and I hate people more. Everything I seem to reject is everything I seem to adore.

I think happiness is being saved for those who donate to the church. Or is there some secret I haven’t yet been told? Or is it some chemical that my brain rejected the day my childhood ended that makes me feel this way?

There’s too much going on right now for me to just say how I feel. But whenever I’m asked if I’m alright that’s another black mark on my soul.

All work and no play make Stephen a dull boy.

All work and no play make Stephen a dead boy.