picture in my mind

At night, in banter with my sister,
I whine sometimes, both in jest and masking as jest,
that my heart hurts.

It is one thing, that as I look closely at it,
splits into many things -- then I think:
what is this multi-faceted pain.


this:

The feelings that hurt most,
the emotions that sting most,
are those that are absurd;
the longing for impossible things,
precisely because they are impossible;
nostalgia for what never was;
the desire for what could have been;
regret over not being someone else;
dissatisfaction with the world's existence.
All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness
create in us a painful landscape,
an eternal sunset of what we are.

Fernando Pessoa,
Book of Disquiet