I had been lonely in college. My relationships with others

didn’t seem to go deep enough to give me the

sense that I was making permanent friends and becoming part

of a larger community. I was unable to fall in

love. I could easily imagine disappearing without leaving any trace

in the world. This thought had a curious effect on

me: it depressed me and yet the depression itself was

so interesting a state for me to be able to

feel, that I was nearly elated at experiencing it. But

I think perhaps I am romanticizing my loneliness in retrospect.

_________________________________________

Paraphrases from the memoir Final Analysis: The Making and Unmaking of a Psychoanalyst by J. Moussaieff Masson.

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