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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
153
October
13.
Spent
the
evening
in
my
lodgings
struggling
with
my
will.
Too
flabby
to
work,
disinclined
to
read,
a
dreadful
vague
unrest
possessing
me.
I
couldn't
sit
still
in
my
chair,
so
walked
around
the
table
continuously
like
a
squirrel
in
a
cage.
I
wanted
to
be
going
out
somewhere,
talking
to
some
one,
to
be
among
human
beings.
Many
an
evening
during
the
past
few
months,
I
have
got
up
and
gone
down
the
road
to
look
across
at
the
windows
of
the
flat,
to
see
if
there
were
a
red
light
behind
the
curtains,
and,
if
so,
wonder
if
she
were
there,
and
how
she
was.
My
pride
would
never
allow
me
to
visit
there
again
on
my
own
initiative.
K----
has
managed
to
bring
about
a
rapprochement
but
I
go
very
seldom.
Pride
again.
I
wanted
to
do
so
to-night.
I
thought
I
would
just
go
down
the
road
to
look
up
at
the
windows.
That
seemed
to
be
some
comfort.
Why
do
I
wish
to
do
this?
I
do
not
know.
From
a
mere
inspection
one
would
say
that
I
am
in
love.
But
remember
I
am
also
ill.
Three
times
to-night
I
nearly
put
on
my
boots
and
went
down
to
have
a
look
up!
What
ridiculous
weakness!
Yet
this
room
can
be
a
frightful
prison.
Shall
I?
I
cannot
decide.
I
see
her
figure
constantly
before
me--gentle,
graceful,
calm,
stretching
forth
both
hands
and
to
me....
Seized
a
pack
of
cards
and
played
Patience
and
went
on
playing
Patience
because
I
was
afraid
to
stop.
Given
a
weak
constitution,
a
great
ambition,
an
amorous
nature,
and
at
the
same
time
a
very
fastidious
one,
I
might
have
known
I
was
in
for
trouble.
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