In which The Gay Recluse looks out windows.

Eventually we reached an age when we could no longer think about the larger world except with terror; it was too complicated and cruel, and every time we tried to engage it we returned defeated and misunderstood. Our own trajectory, combined with an examination of world history and literature seemed to confirm the idea that “the shortness of life, so often lamented, may perhaps be the very best thing about it.”

Yet we were too young to truly understand this, and instead fell into a tedious trap of nihilism and melodrama. “Please kill us!” we laughed bitterly at the sky.

But this passed and we grew older; we felt exhausted by our anger and longed for just a few more seconds of reflection away from the tumult outside.