I am very much aware of my own double self... The well-known one is very under control; everything is planned and very secure. The unknown one can be… - Ingmar Bergman

I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one.

¿Por qué, al menos, no me es posible matar a Dios en mi interior? ¿Por qué prefiere vivir en mí de una forma tan dolorosa y humillante, puesto que yo le maldigo y desearía expulsarlo de mi corazón? ¿Sabes? Estoy a punto de llegar a una conclusión... Creo que Dios es una especie de realidad engañosa, de la cual los hombres como yo no podemos desprendernos

Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace.