Status Updates From El libro del desasosiego

I want to dream of a monologue that I give myself, while reciting these lines that will leave me with goosebumps all over: "Inch by inch I conquered the inner terrain I was born with. Bit by bit I reclaimed the swamp in which I'd be languished. I gave birth to my infinite being, but I had to wrench myself out of me with forceps."

This guy…the ramblings of a depressed hermit who constantly thinks about dreaming and death. He’s afraid to live, he’s afraid of his life, but also accepting of his own life? but like not really? But like wont do anything about it…espouses all of this crap about action being necessary for the soul, but won’t actually act himself bc he’s afraid and “apathetic”…okay.

"The absurd saves us, despite the tedium, from that state of soul that begins with the sweet fury of dreaming"