The Diaries of Franz Kafka

1. The Agony of Writing: A Struggle Against Inner and Outer Obstacles.

All those things, that is to say, those things which occur to me, occur to me not from the root up but rather only from somewhere about their middle.

Creative block. Kafka frequently describes his inability to write, feeling like a "heap of straw" or made of "stone." Ideas arrive incomplete, lacking a foundation, making the act of writing a painful struggle against internal resistance and external distractions. This creative paralysis is a recurring source of despair.

Effort vs. result. The diary details the immense effort required to produce even a single sentence, often feeling like "every word I write jars against the next." Despite this struggle, the output is frequently deemed "miserable stuff," lacking the desired coherence and depth, leading to frustration and self-reproach.

Writing as necessity. Despite the difficulty, writing is presented as an absolute necessity, the "only place I can" hold on. It is the core of his being, the direction his "organism" has chosen, even if the strength to pursue it is inconsistent and often overwhelmed by other aspects of his life.

2. Conflict: Literary Calling vs. Office Life.

Now these two professions can never be reconciled with one another and admit a common fortune.

Double life. Kafka feels trapped between his demanding job at the social insurance agency and his true calling as a writer. The office work is a drain on his energy and time, preventing him from dedicating himself fully to literature, which requires complete immersion and freedom.

Mutual destruction. Success in one area seems to actively harm the other. A good evening of writing leaves him "afire the next day in the office" and unable to function, while the demands of the office rob him of the mental space and energy needed for creative work, leading to a "horrible double life."

No escape. This fundamental conflict feels inescapable, with the only potential resolution being "insanity." The office represents a necessary but soul-crushing reality that prevents the flourishing of his inner life, which is solely directed towards writing.

3. Physical Weakness and Self-Doubt Undermine Ambition.

Nothing can be accomplished with such a body.

Body as obstacle. Kafka constantly laments his physical condition – headaches, insomnia, digestive issues, general weakness – seeing his body as a fundamental impediment to his literary aspirations and a source of deep despair. He feels his body is "too long for its weakness," pulled apart and incapable.

Self-perception. This physical frailty fuels intense self-doubt and a feeling of worthlessness. He sees himself as an "incapable, ignorant person," fit only to "crouch in a kennel," constantly underestimating himself and overestimating others, which further hinders his ability to act decisively.

Lost potential. He believes his physical state prevents him from achieving his full potential, particularly in writing. The "great agitation" within him, capable of "heavenly enlightenment," is suppressed and "cuts me to pieces unhindered" at night, unable to find productive release due to his physical limitations.

4. Complex Family Dynamics and the Burden of Relationship.

My education has done me great harm in some respects.

Reproach and distance. Kafka harbors deep-seated reproaches against his family, particularly his father, for the perceived harm done by his upbringing. This creates a significant emotional distance, making him feel "estranged from one’s family" and unable to connect authentically.

Unseen self. He feels misunderstood by his family, who see him as a "healthy young man" with temporary issues, blind to his profound inner struggles and literary calling. This lack of recognition reinforces his sense of isolation, even when physically present with them.

Relationship as obstacle. Family life and relationships are often viewed as hindrances to his writing and solitude. Conversations are "boring," visits feel like "maliciously being attacked," and the prospect of marriage is fraught with anxiety about losing the necessary isolation for his work.

5. Sharp, Detached Observations of Humanity.

I looked closely at myself in the mirror a while ago... and my face... appeared to me better than I know it to be.

Keen observer. Despite his internal focus, Kafka possesses a sharp, often detached eye for the details of people and their behavior. He notes physical peculiarities, mannerisms, and subtle interactions with striking precision, whether observing strangers, acquaintances, or even himself.

Performance of self. He frequently observes people as if they are performing roles, noting their "too-swinging actors’ walk," their "impudence towards the play," or the "coquetry that ill suits the kind of person she is." This extends to his own behavior, which he sometimes views from the outside, like imitating others.

Distance and detail. This observational skill is often linked to a sense of distance or alienation. He can describe a person's appearance or actions in vivid detail, yet feel "more of a stranger to the girl than if I had brushed her skirt with my little finger," highlighting the gap between observation and connection.

6. The Search for Identity and Belonging.

What have I in common with Jews? I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.

Fragmented self. Kafka expresses a profound sense of not belonging, not only within his family or society but even within himself. He feels like a "lost sheep," "senselessly empty," and struggles to find a stable identity, questioning his connection to his own past and future.

Jewish identity. His relationship with his Jewish heritage is complex and uncertain. While drawn to the Yiddish theatre and aspects of Jewish tradition, he also feels distant from it, questioning what he has in common with other Jews and feeling like an outsider even within this community.

Yearning for roots. Despite feeling disconnected, there is a deep "longing for forebears, marriage, and heirs," a desire for the continuity and belonging that a traditional life offers. However, this longing is often overshadowed by the feeling that these things are "too far away for me" or incompatible with his nature.

7. Suffering, Despair, and the Longing for Escape.

The metaphysical urge is only the urge toward death.

Constant torment. The diary is permeated with descriptions of suffering – physical pain, mental anguish, existential despair. This suffering is not episodic but a constant state, a "perpetual succession of calculations," a "monstrous four years’ up and down."

Desire for oblivion. This intense suffering leads to a longing for escape, often expressed as a desire for death or oblivion. He imagines jumping from windows, being "torn to pieces," or simply ceasing to exist as a release from the unbearable torment of his inner life.

No easy way out. Even escape is complicated. The desire for death is intertwined with the fear of it, and the possibility of a "higher life" after death is questioned. The suffering is so deeply ingrained that it feels like a "singular judicial procedure," a condemnation to struggle until he dies.

8. The Paradox of Solitude and Connection.

I feel more deserted with a second person than when alone.

Need for isolation. Solitude is presented as essential for his writing and inner life. He needs to be "alone a great deal," as his creative work is "only the result of being alone." Relationships are often seen as distractions that disrupt this necessary isolation.

Loneliness in company. Paradoxically, being with others can intensify his feeling of being an outsider. In company, he feels "estranged," "unrecognizable to myself," and "more deserted" than when alone, highlighting his inability to connect authentically despite physical proximity.

Yearning for connection. Despite the difficulties, there is a persistent yearning for connection and intimacy. He observes married couples, families, and friends with a mixture of longing and detachment, recognizing the value of human bonds even as he feels incapable of forming or sustaining them.

9. Life as Performance and the Feeling of Being an Outsider.

Externally I am a man like others, for my physical education kept as close to the ordinary as my body itself was ordinary...

Playing a part. Kafka often feels like he is performing, putting on a facade for the world. He describes his external appearance as that of a "man like others," but this is a deliberate presentation, a "disguise" that hides his inner turmoil and sense of being different.

Observer status. He frequently positions himself as an observer, watching others from a distance – in coffee houses, on the street, in the theatre. This detached perspective reinforces his feeling of being an outsider, not fully participating in the life he is witnessing.

Theatrical world. The world itself sometimes appears as a stage, with people acting out roles. He observes the "theatrical affairs," the "actors," and the "audience," seeing life through the lens of performance, which mirrors his own feeling of playing a part.

10. Introspection: A Double-Edged Sword.

The wild tempo of the inner process; the most obvious one is introspection, which will suffer no idea to sink tranquilly to rest but must pursue each one into consciousness, only itself to become an idea, in turn to be pursued by renewed introspection.

Relentless self-analysis. Kafka's introspection is intense and unending, a "perpetual succession of calculations" about his own state. This constant self-scrutiny prevents any thought or feeling from settling, creating a "wild tempo" that is both exhausting and inescapable.

Self-knowledge as torment. While introspection leads to moments of profound self-awareness, this knowledge is often painful and does not lead to resolution. He sees his flaws, his "miserable dissimulations," and his "filth," but this insight only deepens his despair rather than offering a path to improvement.

Hindrance to action. This obsessive introspection hinders his ability to act decisively. Instead of moving forward, he is trapped in a cycle of analysis and doubt, unable to translate self-awareness into meaningful change, leaving him feeling paralyzed and ineffective.

11. The Elusive Nature of "Real Life".

It is entirely conceivable that life’s splendour forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off.

Life as potential. "Life" is often presented as something external, a potential state of being that is tantalizingly close yet perpetually out of reach. It is a "splendour" that is "veiled from view," something he observes in others but cannot fully inhabit himself.

Yearning for authenticity. There is a deep yearning for a "real life," one that is not fragmented, artificial, or consumed by internal conflict. This contrasts with his current existence, which feels like a "phantom state," a "hesitation before birth," or merely "marking time."

The "right word". The possibility of accessing this "real life" is linked to a kind of magic, a summoning by the "right word, by its right name." This suggests that the key lies in language or understanding, perhaps through writing, but the ability to find this "right word" remains uncertain.

Last updated: May 10, 2025