Nausea

by Sartre

(...) I learnt that you always lose. Only the bastards think they win. Now I'm going to do like Anny, I'm going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, gently, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red seat in the tram.

The nausea is giving me a brief respite. But I know that it will come back: it is my normal condition. Only today my body is exhausted to stand it. Sick people too have happy weaknesses which relieve them for a few hours of the consciousness of their suffering. Now and then I give such a big yawn that the tears roll down my cheeks. It is a deep, deep boredom, the deep heart of existence, the very matter I am made of. (...)