The third book Jim put in the box was lying
underneath the Sartre book. Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy. I had read this years ago. I still remember cogito ergo sum. I think therefore I am. I can’t think here anymore, too much despair. Does that mean I am not?
Sunday, December 8, 2013
17:35
I am tired of writing. I am tired of this. Hell isn’t other people, or burning in eternal
torment. Hell is nothing. No contact, no stimulation, no interaction
with the world. Hell is being trapped in
a box. Hell is something I’ve designed
for myself, carefully and with all the resources I could.
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