un'ubriacatura Other times it is as light, or when you hit your head and you feel dazed. Between me and the world is a sort of invisible blanket. I struggle to make sense of what I tell others. Or perhaps, hard to find the desire to understand. It is so uninteresting.
[..]
reaction goes to the emotion and tears. In tearful pathos. I prefer, as the moments of anguish. At least I was clean and honest.
[..]
And no one had ever told me the pain of being lazy. Except at work, where the car seems to work pretty much as usual, I have a horror of every effort, however minimal. I do not say write, but even reading a letter too. Even shave. What does it matter now whether my cheek is rough or smooth? They say that those who are unhappy wants distractions - something that will help him not think. Yes, but as a man, exhausted, on a cold night, would like another blanket on the bed: get up rather than to seek it, prefer to keep our teeth chatter.
CS Lewis, A Grief
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