Tuesday, 19 November 1878

This stupidity can only be explained by the numbing torpor that gains on them more and more.
Go and spend an hour or two at a friend's home, converse peacefully, come back thinking about love and a heap of things of that sort — and find stupidly upset faces, astonished expressions.
So I went and broke a washbasin at my aunt's — she flew into a rage; whereupon: shouts, grand explanations, curses, mutual declarations of hatred and contempt.
I am so unhappy that without these domestic intrigues I might still manage to live without complaining too much.
Emptiness and Desolation.