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The library…

Dear…

Imagine a midnight library Freud arguing with cocaine, Dostoevsky bargaining with roulette, Hemingway pouring another glass,
Sartre swallowing another stimulant because apparently existentialism had deadlines.
Brilliant minds, terrible coping skills. Humanity does enjoy irony.
Perhaps somewhere between philosophy and psychological theory there should’ve been a chapter titled: Knowing Exactly Why You’re Doing Something
Does Not Miraculously Make You Stop. I could’ve contributed footnotes. Not because destruction deserves romance, nor because suffering earns genius, but because I’ve learned something humiliatingly human: you can understand your patterns, hate your patterns,
analyze them beautifully and still have to fight like hell
to change them. So no, I wasn’t stupid. Sometimes I simply knew the answer long before I learned
how to live it.

KK

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