This letter is falsely attributed to Camus, but it is attributed anyway!
My dear, I don’t know what to do today, help me decide.
Should I cut myself open and pour my heart on these
pages? Or should I sit here and do nothing, nobody’s asking
anything of me after all. Should I jump off the cliff that has
my heart beating so and develop my wings on the way
down? Or should I step back from the edge, and let the
others deal with this thing called courage. Should I stare
back at the existential abyss that haunts me so and try
desperately to grab from it a sense of self? Or should I keep
walking half-asleep, only half-looking at it every now and
then in times in which I can’t help doing anything but?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?
Should I cut myself open and pour my heart on these
pages? Or should I sit here and do nothing, nobody’s asking
anything of me after all. Should I jump off the cliff that has
my heart beating so and develop my wings on the way
down? Or should I step back from the edge, and let the
others deal with this thing called courage. Should I stare
back at the existential abyss that haunts me so and try
desperately to grab from it a sense of self? Or should I keep
walking half-asleep, only half-looking at it every now and
then in times in which I can’t help doing anything but?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?
Falsely yours,
Albert Camus
Albert Camus
