I am having one of those days in which I never had a future.
There is only a present, fixed and surrounded by a wall of
anguish. The other bank of the river, because it is the
other bank, is never the bank we are standing on: that is
the intimate reason for all my suffering. There are ships
sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life
is not painful; nor is there any port of call where it is
possible to forget. All of this happened a long time ago,
but my sadness began even before then.
- The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa