A Short History Of Richard Kline - Plot & Excerpts
It’s an unattractive word, boredom, and I flinch from it now, but for a long time it was the only word I could summon to describe my condition. Today I would say that for much of my life I suffered from an apprehension of lack, but one that I found difficult to put into words. In essence it consisted of a feeling that nothing was ever quite right; something was always missing. How many of us have been dismayed by that feeling? And ashamed of it at those very moments when we ought to feel happy? We ask ourselves: what is the flaw in our being that gives rise to this discontent? In my case the effect of it was to create a sense of detachment, because if something was missing, then all action must ultimately prove to be futile. And this was not a conclusion reached by my mature self; it was something I experienced even as a boy. There were days when I brooded on it, and if I as a youth had been taken to a therapist I might have been diagnosed as suffering from depression, except that I was neither listless nor withdrawn.
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