In this entry of her diary, Anais Nin writes, "But tonight I could not communicate with people. There are times when the world I created and its personages seem more vivid than the ones before me."
She goes further to say, "There came a time when Proust was no longer interested in life itself, but in completing his work. Have I reached this point? Or is this an intermittent watertight compartment in which I find myself only when the people are not congenial?"
Does this happen as one grows older? Anais is about to turn 64 years old. She is finally enjoying life as a famous writer, along with the notoriety she has dreamed for. She's become very focused on finishing the editing and publication of her diary before she dies. Everything else has lost its importance.
What if, like many people her age, she didn't have this work to complete, nothing to drive her? Is this when depression sets in? Anais herself has battled with depression, even though she has enjoyed an interesting life, mixed and mingled with interesting people, been a writer with a self-created schedule and life. What would she feel like if she just had a normal life, a usual existence, like most people have?
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