“Life, as I know it, is cataclysms and apocalypses.

With each passing day I feel that much more incompetent even to trace gestures or to conceive myself in clearly real situations.

With each passing day the presence of others — which my soul always receives like a rude surprise — becomes more painful and distressing.

To talk with people makes my skin crawl. If they show an interest in me, I run. If they look at me, I shudder. If...

I'm forever on the defensive. I suffer from life and from other people. I can't look at reality face to face.

Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”

— Fernando Pessoa, "Book of Disquiet"