I frequently need to withdraw from the world. But when once I viewed this strictly as a maladaptive interpersonal strategy, I now see it as something else: a compromise between life and suicide.

It is as though I need to walk thoughtfully along the edge of the cliff until I tire of the view from there. Only then can I return to life.

From this place it is difficult to relate to the world. So much of what I value seems frivolous. The material world seems abstract and surreal. There is an emptiness to this place but there is a tinge of wisdom in the emptiness—a kind of comforting realization that all is nothing and for nought.

Right now the only thing that makes sense is a comfortable place to sit and a window through which to watch the rain fall.