However, miserable as I was, I did not repent of everything, at least not always,
and sometimes felt, I thought, that things could not have helped being as they were.
The hand of fate was upon me, and it was useless to want to break away.
I conjecture that my parents suffered not a little in these circumstances.
A strange spirit had come over me, I no longer fitted into our community which had been so intimate,
and for which I often felt a maddening homesickness, as for a lost paradise.
I was treated, particularly by mother, more like a sick person than like a miserable wretch.
But the actual state of affairs I was able to observe best in the conduct of my two sisters.
It was quite evident from their behavior, which was very considerate and which yet caused me endless pain,
that I was a sort of person possessed, who was more to be pitied than blamed for his condition, but yet in whom evil had taken up residence.
I felt that I was being prayed for in a different way from formerly, and realized the fruitlessness of these prayers.
I often felt burning within me an intense longing for relief, an ardent desire for a full confession,
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