He’s one of those people who’s not made for life. His face looks like a portrait that turned out all wrong, one the artist crumpled up and tossed into the garbage. He’s someone who doesn’t quite fit in anywhere.
He wishes he could anesthetize himself and live without feeling anything. Act automatically, observe, breathe, and nothing more. See everything, understand, and not talk. But the memories are there, they remain with him.
Ben akli dengesi yerinde bir insan olduğumu sanıyorum; insanlar da sağ olsunlar beni aklı başında biri olarak tanıyorlar. Ama tam anlamıyla aklım başımda mı değil mi doğrusu emin değilim. Belki de deliyimdir.