I’ve never felt pain like this before that I needed to distract myself from it. Toppled with the physical pain is the spiritual thorn that torments my conscience. I cannot sleep for the pain lies heavy with me and at times I contemplated the release of my soul. I am now beginning to understand the sensitivity of those who mourn in misery, of those whose past and future are rifled with pain. A storm rages in my soul, a conflict is stirring in me and soon enough I do think that I will turn into a mad man, a man of a most depressing presence, perhaps locked away in an asylum where there I would greet those of the same fold as me. The terror grips me as it is poison by night and my throbbing never cease.
I wonder with deep sigh of the news this would be to my mother; oh that soft soul will not bid my hearing for she will drop. Her years were spent for my comfort and endurability but now she has a failing son, a deranged son who is plagued with nuclear guilt and a thorn in his flesh. For her sake I must live and find strength to pull myself together. Although I am tuned to the loneliness, it is indeed one of the reasons for my lack of holiness and lo, I must stand although all the will in me is begging me to drop. What is life but a fading flower, a short time lived and a meaningless existence. Before I was born I knew nought, surely after I die, I shall know nought. But there are those who speak of eternity, of life after death and they say that there is a place where it is said that my pain would be a million fold worse if I should be found there and they also speak of another place where my joy would be a million fold if I should be found there instead.