I am happy on the outside, but inside something gnaws at me; some presentiment, anxiety, dreams — or sleeplessness, — melancholy, indifference, — desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death: some kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness; and sometimes definite memories worry me. My mind is sour, bitter, salt; some hideous jumble of feelings shakes me! I am stupider than ever.