Part VII: On the Train

Dear Diary,

On the train. I must see Vronsky, I must. Everything will be better then. Once I see him, that is, and we sort everything out. I have been so unreasonably jealous. Haven’t I? Yes, of course. We can be happy now. As happy as Kitty, and as cruel. How she reveled in my weakness, the lowness of my state. She is ashamed of me. He is too, he must be. I do not deserve this.

I must speak to him at once—why are these people so happy? Don’t they understand the misery of life?—There is no love, only vanity. Yes, vanity! Vronsky had his, and had his satisfaction of me. Now I am only an embarrassment; how it would please him if I left!

We are already drifting apart. But I cannot leave him, not for anything. I love him entirely too desperately. Yet I am dissatisfied. An untenable state of affairs. Life is an untenable state of affairs, I think—and there can be nothing different! I thought I loved him. Perhaps I do. I loved Serezha. Exchanging affections, that’s what life is, and perennial dissatisfaction.

If only Vronsky were not unfaithful! But he is not, no, I am unreasonably jealous. No, no, just dissatisfied. I’ll see him. We’ll find our pleasure again. I’ll show him. –

Except we cannot. That’s the truth of things; life is always a torment, suffering is our purpose and there can be no escape. How could we escape? Perhaps he has received my note. He will come, he must come.

This couple on the train, what are they thinking? Anything? No – I can see through them. They speak French and think they’re happy. He thought we would be happy. We can still be happy. We can sort it out. But what’s to sort out? I’ll still be dissatisfied. Or am I jealous? No. I am right. I was right. I miss Serezha. There is no true happiness.

He won’t come. I know it. He doesn’t care a whit for me. Where will I go? What could possibly guide me there? Can I punish him? Could I make him feel as desolate and abandoned as I have? No, no, he must come. He could not torture me so.

Reason? (who are these fools, these empty-headed fools?) Reason reveals that everything is false. All deception—all evil—how I would rather not see than see this! Repulsive! Untrue! Torturer! This cannot go on, cannot—a candle of suffering, illuminating everything, and everything is hateful. I cannot bear it, not a second longer.

I must get off the train. I must see Vronsky, and at once. I must get off the train.

I must get off the train.