Seite 125 [125]
From the day they are born, people are alien in the world. Birth
itself is a separation, just like creation. Birth thrusts people into
a new action, just as Kierkegaard says: without anyone asking
them about it.
Iam at the end of my rope. I am nauseated by life; it is insipid—wit¬
hout salt and meaning. If I were hungrier than Pierrot. I would not
choose to eat the explanation people offer. One sticks a finger into
the ground to smell what country one is in; I stick my finger into the
world—it has no smell. Where am I? What does it mean to say: the
world? What is the meaning of that word? Who tricked me into this
whole thing and leaves me standing here? Who am I? How did I get
into the world? Why was I not asked about it, why was I not informed
of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had
been bought from a peddling shanghaier21 of human beings? How
did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should
I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to
be involved, where is the manager—I have something to say about
this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?
(Kierkegaard 1983.a. p. 330.)