Beyond it
there is nothingness.
6 June.
I went with Aniela, and am even now asking myself, "Have I gone mad?"
I did not hold her close to my heart, did not hear an avowal of love.
I was spurned without a moment's hesitation; all her modesty risen
in arms, she reduced me to a mere nothing. What is it? Am I a fool
without brains, or has she no heart? What am I fighting against? What
are the obstacles in my way? Why does she spurn me? My head is in such
a chaotic state that I can neither think, write, nor reason. I only
repeat to myself, over and over again, "What is it that bars my way?"
7 June.
I have made an enormous mistake somewhere; there is something in
Aniela I have not observed or taken into account. For two days I have
tried to understand what has happened to me, but my head was in such a
whirl that I could not think. Now I am collecting my thoughts, pulling
myself together to look the situation in the face. It would be clear
enough if Aniela were guarded by a strong love for her husband. I
could understand then the offended modesty and indignation with which
a being, so meek and sweet-tempered usually, spurned me from her feet.
But I cannot even suppose such a thing. I have still enough brains
left to know that it is a mistake to see things too black, as it is
a mistake to see them too rose-colored.
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