Tedium, yes, is boredom with the world,
the nagging discomfort of living, the weariness of having lived;
tedium is indeed the carnal sensation of endless emptiness of things.
But tedium, even more than all that, is a boredom with other worlds,
whether real or imaginary; the discomfort of having to keep living,
albeit as someone else in some other way, in some other world;
weariness not only of yesterday and today but also of tomorrow and of
eternity, if such exists, or of nothingness, if that's what eternity
is. It's not only the emptiness of things and living beings that
troubles the soul afflicted by tedium, it's also the emptiness of the
very soul that feels this vacuum, that feels itself to be this
vacuum, and that within this vacuum is nauseated and repelled by its
own self.
Fernando Pessoa
The Book of Disquiet
translation: Richard Zenith
p. 316
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