D. G.

I wish to die. We are all stuck in a madhouse here, each of us madder than the next. I don't quite know what to do. My own self-horror, ennui, these are all things that travel around in endless little circles 'till we clash, horribly.

It is bitter and foul. I despise it not lightly- but what can we do? Oh, mon cher, if you were here to see this- ... you would certainly be repulsed.