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i am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. no one knows me or loves me completely. i only have myself.
so therefore i dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because i cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
you are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. something not everyone knows how to love.
if you start out depressed, everything’s kind of a pleasant surprise.
however my life unspools itself, i was created to bear it.
there's little point in being human, however, if you can't embrace a magnificent melancholy.