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There are such moments, when one sinks into extreme fatigue, one becomes aggressive—impulsive and hardly controllable, paralyzed in the face of an unbearable nakedness. At last, he lets himself go, so much that he grounds all his reactions on the day-to-day fear. He cannot see himself too clearly. The present self is very often misunderstood, by himself, of which the self is exactly living for his own cause. Humans are hardly reliable after all.
He really thought, the hollowness inside his heart is a window of his mind, and therein are piles of shame, gathered to cultivate a ground, only which turns out to become yet another pile of ruins. But he feels fulfilled. Critique and resistance exist as mere performance after all.