On Friday I felt like collapsing. I would probably had burst into tears, if I had still only known how to cry (this is no joke, I haven't actually cried since 1987). It was as if I had been collecting in me this large amount of energy, tension, and it had been suddenly drained out of me. Feeling totally alone in a hostile world, dodging blows directed at me. The experience of disappointment and all my efforts being in vain was just so overbearing. Feeling misunderstood and being somehow out of touch, and certainly not for the first time in my life. "Something's happening here, but you don't know what it is, Mr. Jones." One should think that when one gets older, one will learn to cope with disappointments easier, but I don't know about that.
I remember this boy in my class at school: he was something of an athlete, and was reduced to tears every time his team lost in a football game; so intense was his concentration, devotion and willingness to win the game. Others found his reaction peculiar and even a bit funny: after all, it was just a game. I am a bit like that boy myself: I put myself in totally, and can't comprehend if someone else gives less than 100 percent. I suppose it's right to say I'm an extreme personality: either I don't bother at all, and am lazy and careless, or then I will push myself to the limits. Maybe the solution for me too lies in the realisation that it is all just a game. One can take it or leave it, win it or lose it, but life goes on nevertheless. Back to the Great Laughter?