2009 - the easiest sum up

The day of the year: 21st June, an evening of redemption.

The season of the year: autumn

The film of the year: Watchmen, Inglorious Basterds, Zweiohrküken

The book of the year: Fit For Life by Harvey Diamond, The Death Of Bunny Munro by Nick Cave, Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac

The crush of the year: the usual...those I can never have

The regret of the year: that April ever happened. The worst month of the year.

The concert of the year: NIN at Hurricane Festival

The band of the year: NIN, KillWhitneyDead, Darkest Hour, Stabbing Westward, The Cure

The musician of the year: Bryan Adams

The song of the year: "hurt", "so far away", "on a day like today", "into the grey", "lullaby"

The new album of the year: "The eternal return" by Darkest Hour

The conversation of the year: 6 hours+ with Dan, haven't talked that much again since.

The friend of the year: that's tough

The arsehole of the year: that bassist


Something you learnt in 2009: healthy eating, to be nice to my mum sometimes, to control my hopes

Which doctor did you visit the most this year?: My dermatologist - once a month since 2007.

How was your birthday?: very quiet and not many people remembered, but I don't care, not as much as you care about your birthday

Your darkest hour in 2009: the night I wrote that 4000-word blog and the day I found out I didn't get the scholarship

The most unforgettable moment of 2009: Trent's arm around me, the moment of heart cleansing and that kiss (Note: those are three different things)

The most significant realisation: That I always rip my arse off for people, now I've stopped

The biggest burden of 2009: driving lessons, job hunting, family issues and this uncontrollable piece of wrath.

Did your plans work out?: to keep fit - yes. To go back to uni - no.

Your biggest accomplishment of 2009: driving license, part time job, writing "The bystanders" and "Laurie's Cottage Pie", keeping up my blog

Have you changed in the last 12 months?: I've become more detached and lack of sensitivity, I like it that way, makes things easier

Your new year's resolution: work hard and no one's gonna get in my way

My mind's on Hozomeen

Well this is not how I had imagined it to be. Sincerely. So wrong. All that. And this. The noise of the hoover. The affection of my dog. Just as bad as work is. In six fucking goddamn hours I only managed 75 pages with Kerouac. This is disgraceful. I fucking hate life at the moment. I just don’t seem to have a room.

It was agreed: NO PRESENTS at Christmas. Then all of a sudden my mum gave me money and my dad gave me and my sister UBS sticks. What the fuck is this? I don’t think you can even imagine how fucking pissed off I am. It has nothing to do with them being kind-hearted, ok? I am being cold-hearted! That is it! I hate guilty conscience! The only Christmas presents I bought was a new blanket for my dogs and that was it. I did think of buying things for my family, too, but thought I’d better not, as my mum would start moaning “It’s such a waste of money! Don’t buy us anything…!” Blah Blah! The best Christmas I had was 2006, where I was all by myself in a house in England. All my housemates had gone home to their home and I had the house to myself till the end of the year. I read over five books during those Christmas holidays. I never had so much time for myself; it was wonderful. Nowadays I can’t even finish a book halfway in one day. Constantly I hear the hoover, the sweeper or my dog scratching at the door. Whenever he wants attention and wants me to hold him, I don’t see him as my dog anymore, I see my future child. AND I HATE IT. God I hate it. No one on earth wants and needs so much attention other than children. This is more exhausting than work. Then you start to scream at them and ignore them. And at the end of the day you hate yourself for what you’ve done. Seriously. Guilty conscience. I do not need that. I do not want that. Not now. Not any time soon. If only the library was open.

I had a terrible, disgusting dream in which I was sitting next to an old man in a taxi. He needed to poop very badly but the taxi driver wouldn’t stop to let him out. So the old man decided to poop into a cardboard right in front of me. Why do I dream bullshit like that?

I think I know why.

I would like to suggest certain people not to make the effort to get to know me and to stop reading my blog. Your curiosity won’t ever be fed by me; especially not if you want everything. I offer shit; shit with truth on top. If you don't know what this all is about, then go.

I tried to sleep with lights off last night, but it was not possible. I used to feel so safe in the dark. In fact people say that it’s better not to see anything in your room, then you have nothing to be scared about, but I disagree, because this is what makes you most vulnerable, because you are unaware of what might be going on in the dark. Therefore I think blind people must be shitting their pants 24 hours a day. I know that having the lights on is not any better, but at least you get to see what might be there and what might be happening. You can defend yourself if necessary. I wouldn’t mind having the lights off if someone else was sleeping in my room. If I was ever to share a bed with someone again, I would insist on sleeping on the inside (having the wall on one side and him on the other). Seriously, the scariest and freakiest thing in the world is waking up on the edge of the bed and seeing someone standing next to your bed. If there could be a name for this sort of a phobia, I would call it “wakophobia”. It has nothing to do with East Asian pirates, but with shock after waking up.

I caught a little cold. I had the window open for too long whilst running on the treadmill. Now this is bad, because I was convinced that I wouldn’t catch a cold this winter due to the great amount of fruits that I consume. As I already said: fruits and broccoli aren’t enough. Share some happiness with me, will you.

Kerouac was an alcoholic. Why do I have a thing for alcoholics who are in the world of literature? Oh yes, they are uncontrollably honest and that is sexy. In fact, Kerouac’s right here next to me. We just finished chapter 69.

White ash

I regret something; something I didn’t do. I didn’t do it for the right reasons. This is why I have this urge to do something for the wrong reasons. Just once. Would you rather regret having done something or not having done something? – Of course. Isn’t it obvious? Sometimes when I look at his pictures and see how happy he is I automatically touch my forehead and wish I could rewind. It doesn’t mean that I am not happy for him now. I am happy for him now. But he and I could have been happy, too, maybe… Well, for at least a year or so? Sure. Why not. My regrets are primarily based on things that I didn’t do. Chances were there. I wasn’t. I was here being faithful. But my throbbing red organ was there.

We are five women at work. It’s tough. I never usually go to Christmas parties, but since we are just five people, it would have been somewhat conspicuous if I hadn’t gone. Two of them are married, one’s engaged and the other’s taken. They had nothing to talk about except their “men”. No, I wasn’t jealous. I just didn’t want to be part of their lives; I didn’t want to know anything about them. Those are people living lives I don’t ever want to live. (Watching Desperate Housewives is totally enough, thank you!)I just cannot talk to taken women…this is so bad. Why did they tell me about their sons? Then I find out I even went to school with one of their sons! It has nothing to do with their ages, because one of them is 19 (the youngest of all my work colleagues) and she was constantly telling everyone about her boyfriend and everyone was listening, even though she talks like a waterfall. Ok, maybe is has something to do with “age”, but primarily it is my inability to adapt. If I know I don’t fit in, then I don’t fit in – I won’t even try.

For God’s sake…when I say I’m pro-choice, then it has nothing to do with being strongly pro-abortion. Just because the people in the US have come up with this term doesn’t mean it has one closed-up meaning.

Do you know what pisses me off so much lately? – That I am so fucking slow. Me of all people. I am known to be the most hectic person: fast at making burgers, fast at the till, fast at unloading delivery and fast at getting everything done. And for some reason I don’t seem to be fast enough. I can’t be bothered anymore. What is life like in slow motion? I remember what it was like when I was eight. The dinner breaks at school used to last for hours, even though they were only twenty minutes after each second lesson. That was when I thought childhood would last forever. It would have been a good reason to kill myself back then. I guess I would have, if I hadn’t encountered the magic of writing stories; passing on my feelings to fiction characters and then making friends with them. If that sounds scary to you then you have no idea how difficult it is to make friends with yourself. You are your best friend and if you neglect yourself, then you are going to pay it back to yourself. And I am angry with myself, because I have no time for myself. The master of horror writing says that if you want to become a good writer you need to read and write for over four hours a day. What the fuck am I going to do…

The ashes of 2009 started to fall from the sky last week. First they melted and now they’re sticking on the ground. Walk on them and they will remain under your shoes. Bring the ashes home whereupon they will turn into dirty water. Wipe it off. Are you any happier now?

Grotesque thoughts on December 10th 2009

For minutes I’ve been looking at this picture of a downward spiral. After a while I got this feeling that the spiral was about to slap me hard in the face. It looks very scary, but I cannot help being curious. My mind is in a very dangerous state, where it is tempted to risk anything, anything that may cause thrill or excitement, but may end badly. The interest is there, but it does not mean that I’m going to submit myself to anything in particular. I’ve missed out way too much which is why I’m being haunted by those temptations. I don’t remember having made a pact with the devil, but he seems to know what I want. This must be the reason why each night I look under my bed before I go to sleep. I know, I am not a four year old anymore, but currently I am suffering from the fears of a four year old. It started this summer…you know the story. I always hated mind games played by people and now my own mind has started to play games with me. Sometimes I get the impression that I myself do not want to know anything about myself. Recently, I have been feeling this inner calmness which truly is scaring the hell out of me, because it’s so tense. The core of my body is ablaze and it has started to control my nerves. Often I close my eyes and I see the core, which is yellow, very bright yellow. I hate the colour yellow; therefore I don’t know why this colour is buried inside me at all. How do you call a person who is unable to get things done right and seems to be doing one mistake after the other? Give me one good word to describe that person. My performance at work is ragged. My boss describes me as stress free, but she doesn’t know that I get panic attacks right at the till when serving people. I get trouble breathing, trouble thinking straight. Nervousness, hectic and social anxiety are the reasons, but I am working anyway. And people don’t notice a single thing on the outside. They think I am orange juice on the inside, but the truth is – the core of my body is grease fire. For years I’ve been wondering how to extinguish it. The hole is still deep, it is still dark. I need to learn to breathe; even babies can do it. Fatigue told me that it was going to suit itself. But I chose to carry on working anyway, even though I am neglecting my creativity, my novel(s) and my own personal peace of mind. It feels like having enabled the self destruct button. All the things I am just don’t match. No, I cannot elaborate. I cannot define paradox in relation to me as a human being. I am too neutral and too prejudiced at the same time, it’s horrendous. Despite of my many misogynistic views, I stand by my own gender, but I also encourage men to stand up for themselves and to keep their pride, which is why certain women will hate me forever. (Taken women.) When these women feel threatened by me, I laugh. I am terrible like that. It’s just ridiculous. You are doomed to be free, so here you are for fuck’s sake… Give people room and privacy. No single minute should be wasted on jealousy or the fear that he or she might not love you anymore. In the worst case, you can always find something better to do. You want to choose to die like Hemingway, Woolf or Cobain? Whatever, but don’t do it at the wrong time and place and avoid dying like Socrates. Try some fun first before doing anything you’ll regret. Now you might say it’s terrible of me to talk like that, but I am pro-choice, so what do you want from me? I am not encouraging people to do anything. What I am saying is: Life is in your hands and so is death. That’s it. I’m wondering how many people are going to misunderstand me this time. Do you finally hate me now? I fucking hope so.

180°

Shall I be a complete arsehole to all of you?

I think I should.

Your choice whether to take it personally or not.

I always give people a choice.

Now

I choose to make ZERO effort.

Just

At the end of the day no one gets it anyway and I’m tired of losing my temper over shit like that. It always leads back to me being fucking “too nice” and stuff, but what’s missing is appreciation from the others. But do I fucking care? Nah, I don’t. Trust me, I do not, I just want to be nice and give people the assurance that I am thinking about them. This is why I still do it. This is why I call up or attempt to organize something…but frankly, I cannot be fucking bothered with it. I am not ready and I’m getting sick of pretending that I am ready. Nothing but lies and endless secrets upon me!

I’m sick of fucking explaining and of making useless effort. Nevertheless I seem to keep doing it, no matter what. Oh why! Is it pressure or maybe the fear of losing them all by growing apart? I don’t know. I am being very controversial ain’t I? I think it’s because I have loads of opinions that are not fixed. But after all I am NOT the one that grows apart from people; it’s fucking THEM! And somehow I can’t deal with this fact. I’m gonna give up on the niceness, it’s too hard to be good to certain persons, especially when they don’t even see this (urrgh)niceness or when they don’t show that they give a shit.

The earth is heating up and I am, too, within. It’s a matter of time when I’ll be angry enough to drown everyone. But I don’t want to eliminate winter. Why does everything I want to do have such a terrible side effect for fuck’s sake?

How I fucking hate my recent blog entries. Just fuck me already will you! Goddammit…

I said something very misogynistic yesterday. I said I would never go to a female gynecologist or psychiatrist. That’s nothing new, but it actually sounds evil when saying this out loudly. But come on, ladies, sticks and stones, eh?

Ever heard of people who can read your aura? I met a lady in England who was able to do tell whether you are surrounded by positive or negative energies. I regret that I never asked her what she saw in me.

Terrible. Disgraceful. Degrading.

It was exactly a year and two weeks ago when I last had sex. Rather depressing when thinking about it. I can’t even remember it that well, except that it was unemotional. And I remember a lot of red. Yes. Blood. I used to be so ashamed of talking about this and it was the only thing that I tended to tell girls about and only two guys. My gynecologist said that there was nothing much he could do about, except to ice up the neck of my womb. Ha, imagine me bearing a child. I think I would bleed to death, wouldn’t I? God, I am so NOT ashamed of talking about anything anymore. So what if people know everything about me? There are endless things that you certainly do NOT know about. I can go on forever. Anyway, just don’t ever talk about those things with me in person; except I start talking about them. Then it means I trust you fully. Sometimes. To be kissed by the kiss of death? I don’t think so, Johnny. Honesty indeed is the most offensive thing in the world, but there are endless secrets to be revealed. I hate secrets. If I could, I would reveal every single thing, unleash all secrets of the world, especially yours. So many friends are keeping shit behind my back; so much shit that I can’t be bothered anymore.

I also signed up on some online community to get singles to email me. I was curious, I wanted to see what it’d be like. You could say you’re looking for a relationship, affair, one night stand etc. I ticked the last two and would get over fifty mails a week. Why did I do that? – Because I SUCK at looking for what I want; it’s easier for me to be found. The men who wrote to me were all twats. Some even sent me pictures of their dicks or pictures of them having sex. So that was gross. And they would say things like “Never fucked an Asian before.” Now how stupid is that? However, there were also nice ones who wanted to get to know me and asked stuff like “What are you currently reading?” or “Who’s you’re favourite writer?” I posted half naked pictures, which was the reason why I received responses from people. But at the end of the day I didn’t answer ANYONE. It just didn’t click. They were fucking Germans. What do I want from a German? After a few months I canceled my account on that page. Still masturbation’s no fun; it’s exhausting and I fall asleep during it, because I have no strength these days. The majority of my energy is used for work (aka stress) and sports. I think in the last thirty minutes I’ve yawned over fifty times, because I’m finding it hard to breathe properly. This is a sign of a panic attack, which I used to get very often when I was back in England. It’s happening again, because I’m dealing with more stress than usual. And this all thanks to “people”. People are no good. There is also this lump in my throat and pressure in my ears, due to suppressed anger. Someone fuck my ears, please.

Oh God, will people please just QUIT talking about ENGLAND! I don’t want to hear a FUCKING word about it anymore. Do NOT ask me!

I haven’t had a decent conversation since Dan and that was bloody nine months ago. And that was a conversation in the best language of all. German is making me fucking sick. Some German friends offered to speak English with me – no way. I only speak English with Brits or Americans. I don’t know why, but when I speak English with non-English natives, my English goes very bad. That’s probably because I unconsciously adapt myself to them. Terrible. Disgraceful. Degrading.

No day off this week, which is why I need to cancel whomever wanted to meet up with me tomorrow. This Sunday is mine. Don’t even dare to call. I want to see how Bunny Munro dies.

sdrawkcab gniog retsaocrellor

Dear Diary, I’ve reached this point again. It’s similar to the one in April, if not worse. The moment I started my new job, I stepped into a downward spiral. Yes, despite of the relief that I’m finally earning enough money to pay my fucking health insurance and rent. Though, since the new job my social anxiety has increased vehemently. My German has gone badly or I am simply too panicky to talk in public. I can’t control myself. I act so calmly towards everyone while inside I am a shaken can of coke. Everything is so hard, so fucking hard and it hurts. This calmness that I am showing is not good; it’s destroying me, it’s making me ill, but I can’t do anything about it. I’ve already been wondering WHY the hell am I so calm? If I carry on like this, I know I will do something very bad in the near future. If I don’t hurt other people I will hurt myself, won’t I? As simple as that I guess. I can’t express myself. I feel extremely scrutinized in the public world. I’ve become more irrational than I ever was. Sometimes I don’t even get why I do what I do. All I know is that I hate what I do. And I hate everyone around me, especially those who want something. How much more do I have to give? Give me something BACK for fuck’s sakes! How often to they even think about me? This is the reason why I don’t care anymore; even if they disappeared forever. Would you resent me for that? (This does not refer to my mum, dad and sister.) I have a lump in my throat again and wish I was able to throw up on everyone’s shoes. It’s a terrible moment when realizing that those whom you trusted are not trustworthy at all, because by the looks of it, they never even trusted you in first place.
I had to catch up with some sleep last night and actually managed to sleep 11 hours. That did me well, but the worst was waking up with a delirious head and this numbness around my heart. I didn’t want to go to work today. Yesterday I had to do my first cashing up and it was the first morning that I had to open the shop on my own. I was literally sitting there for OVER an hour counting the money in the safe. And no I cannot count. Trust me, I cannot. I never was able to count. At the end of the day there were 100Euro missing in the safe. How I feel? How would you feel if your boss thinks that you might have stolen the money? She didn’t say anything and acted out the same old way, but I knew that she thinks that it is a possibility that I stole the money, because I am weird and difficult to access. That’s what almost everybody thinks about me whom I’m not close to, so it’s no surprise. Right now I hate that job, because it’s forcing me to suppress myself and everything that I feel inside. I never came across as determined and confident and it’s even worse now. Everybody knows that I don’t look into the person’s eyes when I talk to them, unless I trust them. I’d rather speak to the wall or to a pair of shoes. All those bloody people… What the fuck do they all want from me and why do they make me feel so disagreeable inside? No one has made me laugh recently and I’ve lost trust and faith in certain people. I don’t care either, as they don’t seem to care that much. I’m tired of being good to them. Why do I tell them so much anyways? Recently I noticed that I even lie to them. Am I becoming a liar? A Holden Caulfield-like liar, yes.
God I feel so numb. I don’t want to know how often I’ve written the word “feel” in this blog entry. But I can’t help it. I smoked 3 cigarettes in a row yesterday, it was supposed to be just two, but the day wouldn’t go away. And I know I did I say I want to quit by the end of the year. Good luck to me then.
Autumn seems to be over. What a shame really. I haven’t even sucked up its beauty entirely, yet. Everyday I realize that certain people I consider as close don’t actually know a single thing about me. They think I am the way I act. They never even tried to see what’s underneath. Does this mean they lack of interest? Some people are clever and would say this crappy saying to me: “Still waters run deep.” They know there’s something about me, but they wouldn’t ask.
This spite is making me fatigued. Ever since I started that job my mind has gone delirious. I hate what it’s doing to me, but I particularly hate what I am doing to myself, uncontrollably. I’m doing my immune system no good and the fruits won’t help forever, I know it.
That was a nice cry just now. I feel better. But I’m over exhausted and my head has started to hurt. I hate the way my hair looks and the way I’ve been treated by people. It will go on like this if I don’t get out of their way. I need a teacher. This year was like a rollercoaster going backwards. Ten million miles backwards. At least I weigh 110lbs now, but unfortunately it doesn’t make me any happier.

Like the passion of a Scorpio

I am keeping fit well good, but that’s not a reason to pat myself on the back. I mean it took me about two years to realize what I’d been doing wrong. I should’ve listened to my body in the first place, but instead I was way too focused on the head and heart thing. After all those years I have found out that I’ve been doing nothing but exploring myself. And I can’t believe that I am not even through yet. But did you know that Saturday children are doomed to put their shoulder to the wheel? My mum never told me that I was born on a Saturday, but she felt from the beginning that it was a bad omen. I guess it’s just me who thinks that this is fine. Everyone is supposed to work hard. What are we if we were only to sit there staring holes in the air? What if we didn’t have to make any effort to get what we want or need? I dream of walking on Saturn’s rings; walking in circles until I start to puke. I feel like losing myself, but not in a bad way. I want to lose myself in a passionate way. The urge for change is still there – starving. I cannot just feed it with work, sleep and fruits. I want someone to make me laugh and unfortunately there is nobody with my type of humour. I used to be very uptight regarding humour and couldn’t even laugh at the jokes in the series Scrubs. I didn’t get it at first and still I’m not the most humorous person on earth. Lately I realized that I behave differently in front of everyone. Close friend or not, I cannot act out the way I am anymore. Somehow everyone seems so selfish; they hear what they want to hear. Everything you say seems so superfluous. It’s like talking to ghosts. There are times where I am scared of losing my opinions, because sometimes I myself feel they are superfluous. At the end of the day I keep them for writing purposes.

The name Neil Gaiman has been following me for years and only now I’ve become aware of him. I should’ve paid more attention since E.T.A. Hoffman’s Sandman or Watchmen, Stardust, Coraline, etc. I also wished I had paid more attention to Nick Cave before; the same with Bela Lugosi or other things that had impressed me in the past, which I never held on to and quickly forgot about. I remember the loneliness I used to feel when I was a teenager and the loneliness never EVER got nursed. Never. Not in Germany, or even in England. Not in Denmark. Nowhere. There was wishful thinking and there was the pretense of happiness. I did feel wanted and needed, but that is not enough. That’s just being taken for granted, nothing else, is it? Am I the only one who understands Miss Havisham? …Even though she did a mistake.

I’ve been dreaming about water and fire. Good news is I can handle both. I don’t seem to run away. But that’s because my family was there and needed to be saved. The water was black and the fire was silver. So weird. There is just one thing I cannot handle and that’s my anger. I dreamt of a gay person who was permanently infuriating me. He was jerking next to me and then joked about rubbing his semen on me. I saw it as a threat and eventually lost my temper when he rubbed it on my leg. That was one of the most random and disgusting dreams ever; more revolting than the human kebab that dreamt about.

I have been good. Recently I hear my mother laugh. It makes me feel so warm inside you cannot even imagine. I’m unable to tell her how much I want to support her and dad, except that I can only show them. There are things regarding my parents that I don’t want to talk about, but those things basically persuaded me to pay rent. I am glad they have realized that I am trying hard.

I was saying that Saturday children need to work hard in life. All my life I’ve been working hard on myself (and I’m not even there yet). But the real thing is still to come. I want it all and I’m ready to rip my arse off.

The unreliable narrator

Sometimes I just don't mean what I write. It's not that you should believe each word that I write.

I am truthful, but not in the way you think.

A little soul

I think I lack of biotin again. I’d better start eating peanuts, cashews and almonds. I guess that biotin deficiency is the reason why my skin is so messed up. Eating fruits is not enough, nothing is ever fucking enough. You can’t take care of everything all at once. I’ve never been an attention seeker and I hate those who are; whether suffering from inferiority complex or not, I don’t care. But my body is asking for attention more than ever in my entire life. All of a sudden, I don’t like coke anymore. I don’t like energy drinks anymore. I’ve become sensitive to caffeine! To be honest, caffeine never worked as an energizer and now it’s even giving me headache. The only caffeine drink I can consume is tea (green, black, anything) and a weak coffee. But from now on, no more energy drinks or coke. It’s not just the caffeine, but also the amount of sugar which is available in those drinks – tastes terrible. It’s so weird that my tongue had never noticed that in the past. I don’t even like drinks that contain sweeteners or aspartame. You can taste that unnatural stuff forever on your tongue. Again, I never noticed that in the past. Chewing gum is the same; once I’ve finished that pack, I won’t buy any new ones anymore. So many people are attracted to flavour enhancer; me too sometimes. Often when I eat out with people, they tend to say “Why does the food you eat in restaurants taste so much better than at home?” Well, isn’t it obvious?

A friend of mine has moved to Kiel to study. She doesn’t admit, but I think she’s having a tough time to adapt to her new life. That’s very cute. I think she’s not aware yet how lucky she really is. People who are ready for changes are the most courageous and most interesting people ever. I like them. At least they are not boring.

I have a little obsession with digital clocks. I can’t help adding those digits together when looking at my alarm clock. It’s freaky. Do you remember my blog from a while ago, where I multiplied all numbers with nine? There is one number I forgot to write down. Now here it is: the other day I paid attention to three cars that drove past me, one after the other. I added up their license numbers and all three of them equaled 6. There you have your triple 6. Whether you add those 6’s together or multiply them, they’ll equal 9. I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking that I haven’t got a life. And you’re correct. Right now I really don’t.

I found my favourite song by the band Pulp. I never knew why I loved that song, but now I do. It has always reminded me of how much I don’t want to become a mother. I cannot even look after plants, you see.

A caller's kindness

I’m such a terrible friend. Do you know when you become a terrible friend? That is when you suddenly see “friendship” as “business” and not something that comes from the heart. Now may I defend myself, please, before you judge me and before you think I don’t give a shit about you?

Thank you.

Well. I’m a lot under pressure these days. Not logging in to myspace and facebook is certainly not enough. There are also real life friends. Friends that “call you up” and now we’re talking about one of my least favourite activities, which is “talking on the phone”. The moment my phone rings, I automatically start to roll my eyes. If I am busy (or at least think that I am busy), I don’t answer it. Some tend to leave a message, but if it is not that important, I don’t usually call back immediately. Now this is where it starts…If I don’t call back for about a week, I start to feel “guilty” and I HATE feeling guilty. And it’s not just guilt, but also pressure! You don’t understand it? Well you don’t have to. I am simply not somebody who likes talking regularly on the phone or even weekly. Some friends, however, expect me to call back. They take it personally if I don’t get back to them and this makes me feel terrible. I already find it tiring meeting up with a friend twice a week. I have changed a lot, you see. When I was 15, I used to meet up with friends several times a week and I liked it. (I made my first friends with 15, you remember. Those were different times.) Now, I’m slightly reversing; I’m becoming quiet again, I dislike conversations where I constantly disagree with the person and I just can’t be bothered expressing my opinions. I just don’t have as many like-minded people around me anymore as I used to. They are all different, but interesting to know. Unfortunately this doesn’t make it any easier for me.
I am forcing myself to hang in there…to call people, before they start thinking that I don’t give a shit about them. It’s such a natural thing for them to call friends up, which I fully understand. My problem is that I lack of alone time. My alone time keeps delaying and it’s pissing me off. Today I thought I should make those phone calls, in order to have them done with, so those people don’t feel forgotten. I won’t ever forget them anyway, but you know…people always need assurance. It almost feels like a complicated relationship. I tried making those calls, but none of the friends were available – now that pisses me right off.
I think I used to be a man in my past life (– a proper arsehole). This explains why I’m unable to do multi-tasking and to dress elegantly like a lady. I think I used to be a misogynist who broke many women’s hearts, which is why I have to pay for it in this life. Fair enough.

FYI I still haven’t finished reading “The catcher in the rye”, how disastrous! When I get a free minute, I just want to relax. My mind isn’t functioning well this week. Now coming back to combining “friendship” with “business”: I am almost fully booked this week thanks to work, except on Friday. Friday is my only day off this week and I am NOT willing to give it away to anyone, not even to a friend who needs help with her homework. Am I a terrible friend when I say I don’t care about that piece of homework? No I am not. My friend is expecting me to travel to hers, in order to help her with her work. It’s like thinking “Paula can travel everywhere for anyone…!”
Yeah, sure, I travel everywhere for everyone! If I am asked to help, then the person can make the bloody effort to travel to MINE, instead of having me travel 45-50min for a damn homework. She says she also wants to see me, too, but that’s not good enough. So here’s how it goes: I said I was gonna come up after work on Thursday evening. I’m ready to help on a work day. I’m not telling anyone that I am free on Friday. It’s my fucking day. Can’t go party anyway, because I got work that Saturday after.

I’ve just noticed that I hardly ever ask for help. I tend to do everything myself, because I don’t want to hassle anyone. I don’t know who is still genuinely ready to help me these days. Ok, apparently friends are there to help, am I missing out something? Why do I always feel like using people when I ask them for help? – This is the reason why I don’t like asking for any kind of support. Stupid, I know. I don’t like being indebted. Is that reason enough? Or is it too complicated? Or do you think that I’ve never really had a close friend?

God, I’m such a loner. A pissed off loner.

To conclude: I value friendship, but I’m not someone who would let you come round just because you feel bored. If that makes me a terrible friend, then so be it. I don’t find friendship as easy as you do.

Another useless blog written.
Pathetic.
Will try to avoid that before people leave my blog with a head shake. But certain explanations needed to be done. For me, not for you. Surely not for you.

The twin

She still acts very cold and distant. It doesn’t happen very often that I hope for her to say something random to me and not even that is happening. Normally she asks me about my work schedule or whether I’m going to buy bread in the morning; questions that used to piss the hell out of me. All of a sudden I feel very scared and I can’t really describe why. In our family it is not a common thing to ever say sorry after fights. It’s awkward and none of us like awkwardness. So how is it best to apologise? Well, all you need to do is: not to do anything that pisses her off. Examples: Don’t put the knife back into the drawer after cutting bread, at least wash it first. Or pick up your hair after washing. Self explanatory. But since that argument she seems to have so much more to moan about. I am not even listening anymore. I think the reason is because now she only talks to me when she’s complaining. There seem to be no questions anymore. She used to ask me questions which an ordinary friend or acquaintance would ask and it’s only her I’d yell the answer back at. You, YOU deserve being yelled at so much more. And I don’t know why I am unable to express myself to you.

“The catcher in the rye” has gotten boring. I got very bored of Holden’s tone. It’s not like reading anymore; it’s as if he’s chatting to me and he’s not always honest, either. Though, he’s very open and rather smart for his age, but men who don’t know what they want are a total turn-off.

“Hurt”, instrumental version…have you ever heard that one before? It makes you imagine yourself in a foggy area, wearing nothing but a negligee. You are on bare feet and you don’t even notice the cold as if you had an invisible shield that makes you feel absolutely nothing. Then you see an unconscious twin of yourself lying in the midst of the fog. Slowly you kneel down to touch her. She wakes up and grabs you violently by the throat.

Human kebab

I had a terrible dream and only in my dream I felt no disgust.

There is human kebab.

Impalement.

Raw.

Saw. No it was a chainsaw.

Bread and salad were missing.

Adressed to YOU

I have an announcement to make. I've come to the conclusion that I need to set myself free for a while from pressure, digital communication and other people's business.

I don't like how negative things have developed in my life and I hate the way I treat people that I love. I need more time with my head. Therefore, I want to stop talking to you for a while. I'd rather go away than pitying myself in front of you. I hate self-pity, I hate it sincerely. I'm very glad that most of you don't know the "me" from eight, nine years ago. Lucky you, eh?

Do you think my blog entries contain self pity at all? No, they are observations, secretive revelations and prejudiced opinions - all honestly told. (At least the ones from 2007 onwards.) I don't do self pity in public anymore.

I had a very long walk today. It has been a rather nice half-way sunny autumn day. I love yellow, brown leaves. I like watching them fall, because, to me, it signifies that a terrible chapter has just ended. So you live with the consequences throughout the winter, where you are going to think about what you have done. You'll have your new chances in spring. It is a melancholic thought really, but it keeps my mind working.

I had to endure a lot of pressure yesterday at work. I didn't dare to lose my temper at work, but by the time I got home, I lost it all. I tried not to speak to my mother, but she insisted on speaking to me, I couldn't stand it. I don't even want to think about the way I talked to her. Last thing she said was that the entire family is getting scared of me. Today she said nothing to me.

I constantly talk about isolation, which is an impossible thing, especially now that I have two jobs, which are keeping me deadly busy. Customers are arseholes, especially when they accuse you of stealing their money. Though, it's even worse when you've noticed their bloody ferocious facial expression before the transaction has even started. It puts pressure on me, because I get scared of doing something wrong. And according to their opinion, I did something wrong. A customer was supposed to pay 38,89Euros. That stupid old bag handed one 20Euro note and three 10Euro notes to me. I looked at the money, counted it and typed in 50Euro, which was correct. I acted out of intuition, nothing else. BUT the money was more of less still in his hands and THAT WAS when I realised that he gave me a tenner too much. I thought it was just a misunderstanding, but do you know what he thought? That fucker thought I was trying to mess around with him, that I was going to keep that extra tenner for myself, even though it was still in his goddamn hands. I was indignant and denied his accusation, but he wouldn't believe me. That ruined my day. It hurts me to know when people think that I am that bad. Luckily the day was almost over. But unfortunately before it was over, the situation escalated.
My colleagues tend to leave me alone at the till for hours. Even if it's already time for me to finish, they will take their time to displace me. For instance, when I finish at 9pm, they'll come to displace me at quarter past, which leaves me ten minutes to cash up, because my bus leaves at 9:29pm. Then I'll be under pressure, because I don't want to miss my bus. You gotta know that time puts a lot of pressure on me. I'm not easy going when it comes to time. It's an inconsiderate bitch, because it doesn't wait for you. It's a curse to think like that.

Now you might say that I should do something about it, that I should say something, so that people don't treat me like that. That's the reason why people take me for granted, because I don't say anything. If I keep doing that, I know I will lose my mind one day. But in situations like these...do you know what I really really think? I think that these people --- simply are not worth talking to; they are not worth it. They have no meaning in my life. So why the hell should I talk to them about anything?

Well let me finish this one quickly, cos it's pissing me off what I'm telling you. You remember my last "break" was sometime in April? I neither logged in on myspace nor facebook for over a week. This time it's gonna be much longer than one week.

I want to finish reading "The catcher in the rye". It can't be true that it's taking me two weeks to finish a bloody 200-page book! I can seriously slap myself in the face.

In the next few days, I will firstly respond to all your emails and I'd appreciate it, if you didn't respond straight afterwards, as I will not read them. I have to be honest: I hate finding emails which were sent to me about 3-4 months ago. It's when I start to wonder why it took me so fucking long to write back and I feel very very bad about it. (I'd be an arsehole if I blamed time. I don't do excuses anymore.)
I get guilty conscience all the time, you know..., even though I shouldn't. I used to have 15 pen friends. Yes, I wrote them hand-written letters. I responded to each single letter. And then, time after time, one by one, gave up on me. Pen friends worth keeping? I don't think so.
Today I have to say that I appreciate my digital friends, especially those I've been in touch with for over five years. You know who you are. I'd like to thank you for making the effort.

I don't feel like talking much, I don't feel like updating you with my life right now and I don't feel like bothering you with my problems. I don't mean it in a bad way.
I wish I could avoid all people for a while, but how often have I fucking said that already? This is not going to happen.

I will keep my blogs up and I will tweet. (You think I'm a hypocrite, eh? Maybe. But you gotta know that in my blog I don't talk to anyone, I talk to "my blog".) These will be the only updates...probably till the end of the year or beginning of next year.

I'll be fine for some texts, so feel lucky if you have my number :)

So long then,

p

A misogynistic blog

I have been trying to analyse my animosity against women. And I have to admit that I have been hypocritical, because deep inside I do share many opinions with Schopenhauer. Hell knows what I am still denying. There is so much spite going on which I do not dare to share with you. This is to avoid you turning your back on me.

It all started when I went to my paediatrician for the first time in my life. All those years, I had been trying to repress this memory. My first doctor ever. A woman. I remember her having very short grey hair and a facial expression of a stupid badger. She lacked a lot of patience and kindness. You really didn't have the impression that she liked children at all - a child abuser more like.

I haven't thought about that bitch for a long, long time, not until my gynaecologist (a man!) had started asking me for my vaccination records. Problem was that I have lost my vaccination certificate and therefore I'm not up to date about my past vaccinations. There had been loads of school vaccinations, which none of my doctors know of, so I didn't know who to turn to. So my gynaecologist said "Consult your paediatrician." I felt numb for a second. I suddenly remembered that grey-haired woman, who, to me, was a personified witch, a female child abuser. She was the first woman who ever tricked me into stuff - she used to divert me, in order to inject me or to insert suppositories up my arse. That, in my eyes, is child abuse. She was also the first woman who told my dad (with me present) that I had serious mental problems because I didn't speak to people. My dad believed her that was when he first felt ashamed of me.

It didn't get any better, though. I had to deal with female teachers at the kindergarden and nursery school. My first primary school teacher was female, so was the second. They all pretty much gave up on me and sent me to the school psychologist instead. (That was a woman, too.) All those bloody fucking women were cunts and hollow as their fucking hearts were. My first teacher at secondary school was a woman, too. But by the time I was at secondary school, I was more able to think for myself and began to realise what was really going on around me and so on. It was unnecessary to think that I was in need of help. The only person who was able to help me was me - me alone.

My mother used to be very detached in the past, too. I always had this feeling that she was not satisfied with her life and with the choices she had made. Therefore I don't resent her for being detached. I've always used her as the cushion to kick into. The difference between her and the other women is that she loves me.

You probably won't understand me if I say that I don't ever, ever want to become a mother myself. It's enough to just be a woman.

Thoughts and events in little pieces

It's an unpleasant thing to witness your friends change. I don't even want to go deeper into this subject.

It's my parents' 26th anniversary. I don't care about that. That always reminds me of the Bonsai plant.

It's not quite the autumn I was hoping for, but I love the melancholic atmosphere it causes, because it keeps other people inside, whilst I can be outside.

Holden Caulfield and I aren't really alike, but we have a lot in common. In contrast to me he is a liar. But his lies are somewhat forgivable. He lies to strangers, in order to avoid discussions and conversations and to avoid revealing himself to people who might do harm to him. An extraordinary observer and extremely opinionated in his head. He's just as observant as I am, he even writes about observations that I wouldn't even think of writing about.

I feel very sad since yesterday night.

Even socialising with close people has somewhat become difficult that I tend to shut up most of the time.

My former art and sports teacher came to buy food in the supermarket. I felt like a loser serving her. I knew she remembered me. Intuitively, I started a conversation and I mentioned: "I finished school in England upon which I went to university for three years..." She then asked "Why the hell are you working in the supermarket?" I liked that question.

I admit sometimes I set value on what people think about me, especially when I know they are wrong. I always need to get it straight.

I still fantasize about him.

They are breaking open a part of the moon, in order to find supplies. I hate the human nature.

Having a strong will is not enough.

Why am I so numb when being sad?

Thinking of my last decent cry on September 6th.

I don't feel like passing my experiences on to people who haven't experienced the same thing. I want them to go through it themselves and get hurt. Very hurt.

I won't tell deaf ears. I will only write for wise eyes.

I still fantasize about him.

I love and admire people who are stoical. Nothing is more attractive than this type of charisma. I only know stoicism in connection with numbness. I know there is more to it.

I plucked my eyebrows for the first time today. It hurt and my skin reddened. I don't think I will ever go as far as other women who value outer beauty so much.

Why is it so hard talking to women?

Capitalism, power, fame and recognition. Anything else nowadays people talk about? Yes.

Never pour water onto a pan which is on grease fire.

The reversal of process

The sleeping routine has changed again. Bedtime is not between 5 and 6am anymore, but between 3 and 4am. Nothing is ever regular with me. I tend to listen to my body more than ever now. I think it knows what's better for me than I do. My head and my heart seem to be over exhausted and I don't seem to hear anything from them right now. My stomach is in control and I trust it. It told me to prepare a bowl of fruits for breakfast this morning, which I did and enjoyed. My mum called me crazy for eating fruits in the morning. I simply said "Leave me alone". I feel better this way. I used to eat fruits straight after dinner, which you are not supposed to do. You'll feel more bloated and heavier and the digestion takes a lot longer. Now when eating fruits for breakfast I feel so much lighter. Imagine I explain this to them. They won't listen. They grew up differently and they attempted to pass, what they had learnt throughout their own adolescence, to me and my sister. I guess my mum knows me. She has always known that I won't ever be like her and dad. And that whatever happens I will always have my own way of deciding what's good for me.

I hate receiving help. I hate receiving help from people that I don't trust. My parents made me go to the jobcentre today to sign up for unemployment benefit, in order to finance my health insurance. I fucking HATE the jobcentre, which is full of wankers. They judge you from the start without knowing you. You can already hear how they're calling you a "loser", "good-for-nothing", "suckup" and "wreck" from the inside. They think that you do shitall to support yourself. Evil bastards. The ugly disabled advisor woman I spoke to literally said "We are going to force you to find a job!" Her eyes were glaring at me whilst she said that, as if she was about to stab me. Goddamn bitch. If it hadn't been for my parents' sake, I'd have NEVER gone there. Well, so she used the word "force" and she did mean it seriously. She is forcing me to see a career's advisor every fortnight and I'll probably have to accept any job that will be available. It's the only way so they'll agree to finance my health insurance - by putting pressure on me.

The moment I had entered Germany again in 2007, I should've known and realised that it was a mistake. If not so much shit had happened in the spring of 2007, I would have had less reason to leave England. I still remember the relief I had felt when I was on the plane back to Hamburg. I did miss it. But I didn't know that it was not going to do me any good. It had nothing to show me, except familiar scenery. I should've known that everything would go back to normal, as if I had gone back to 2001 again.

Yes, I regret for having come back. I feel similar to Lugosi who had turned down the role of playing Frankenstein. The biggest regret that he would never forget. But I don't regret for having met wonderful people in my home country in the last couple of years. And I don't regret being with my family, except that being home is doing me no good. Being home is the reversal of a process.
I know it's too late to worry about things like that. Regrets don't work. I fucking know it myself.

I am sorry, sometimes I'm so uncontrollably honest that I don't even notice that I am being very offensive. I almost wrote something very offensive and I'm glad that I'm able to shut up, otherwise the world would go down.

But this is not the time. I'm not through, yet. Some thoughts and attitudes of mine are so heinous that I do not dare to share them, not even with my black book.


Oh look who's back. Welcome head. Welcome heart. Have a good fair fight.

First night sleeping with lights off

In the last 26 hours I've only had about 3 1/2 hours sleep. Let's say I've been working. For no money. This is always the case with me. I choose something I enjoy doing, but there is no money available for me. I do so much copywriting for free. Many people who were in my shoes would complain. But I don't really see the point in complaining about something that I enjoy doing.

Now talking about the Reeperbahn Festival - I didn't enjoy it, because I didn't feel much involved. I was never interested in the festival in first place, but I agreed to copywrite, because I wanted the experience. Besides I was part of the press. I got in everywhere without hassle. But however I didn't get much involved, the entire team or crew was doing its thing without informing me entirely about the latest news. It was chaotic. I didn't even have the feeling they gave a shit about me being there, either. I just filled in some gaps...that's all I did. And whenever I talk, they don't even seem to hear me. So in the end I just didn't bother. I couldn't enjoy the festival really, because none of the fucking bands interested me and I was only asked to interview one, which was Molotov Jive from Sweden. They did a boat gig and were in a hurry. So the interview only lasted 2m30sec or something like that. Ridiculous, but it made me feel like how I used to feel. That was my first interview since The Haunted this January. At least a little bit of fun and experience.
Another horrible thing were the McDonald Eat-for-free vouchers. It's terrible when you can't afford the food that you wanna eat. Or when you're in such a hurry that you cannot be bothered to find the food that you are after. So why not get some shit to eat, since it's for free? I think next time I'll choose to starve. I'd have had so much more fun working as a copywriter at the Hurricane Festival. I'd have done my own thing then.

Who cares now.

When it's cold and I'm stressed, my skin would start to itch because it's dry. Like today. I scratched so hard that I started to bleed. I'm such a wimp because my skin can't even deal with the coldness in autumn. What if I was in Canada in the deep winter? I think I'd simply skin myself with my nails.

Tiredness is kicking in finally. Mustn't sleep too long tonight. I need to get up in time to vote. Just to make it clear: I'm not voting for the sake of Germany. I'm not voting because to everyone it seems to be the right thing to do.
I vote because I'm given the chance to make my own decision about something. If I ever get a choice, I tend to grab it. I don't support any of the parties. I agree and disagree with all of them. I'm not a Democrat, but I have democratic attitudes, because I love the idea of choice, but it doesn't mean I'm on anyone's side. I still haven't made up my mind about my second choice, though.

On the way home I was observing the people on the train. There was this guy who looked like he has been through a lot of emotional conflicts tonight. Maybe his girlfriend had a go at him for being an arsehole. However he didn't look like he meant to do any harm to anyone. Exhaustion and washed out anger could be spotted around his eyes and on his cheeks.

Then there were a lot of teenage girls (all blonde) traveling by train at about 3am. Looked like they had spent their weekend at the Reeperbahn Festival. They reminded me of The Virgin Suicides. They had this sympathising way of looking at one another. Sometimes I recognised envy and sometimes pretense. Who cares anyway? They seemed happy.

The men I looked at had this sharp and fierce glare, which freaked me out. When you see a man with reddened skin you know that he has been drinking too much. What a turn-off.

Tonight I noticed that people looking at me tended to stare below, rather than look me in the face. When I interviewed the singer from Molotov Jive, he was constantly keeping eye contact with me, but I couldn't. My eyes wandered off, as if I wasn't even interested in the things he was saying.

Well for the sake of my soul...leave me alone.

First night sleeping with lights off

In the last 26 hours I've only had about 3 1/2 hours sleep. Let's say I've been working. For no money. This is always the case with me. I choose something I enjoy doing, but there is no money available for me. I so much copywriting for free. Many people who are in my shoes would complain. But I don't really see the point in complaining about something that I enjoy doing.

Now talking about the Reeperbahn Festival - I didn't enjoy it, because I didn't feel much involved. I was never interested in the festival in first place, but I agreed to copywrite, because I wanted the experience. Besides I was part of the press. I got in everywhere without hassle. But however I didn't get much involved, the entire team or crew was doing its thing without informing me entirely about the latest news. It was chaotic. I didn't even have the feeling they gave a shit about me being there, either. I just filled in some gaps...that's all I did. And whenever I talk, they don't even seem to hear me. So in the end I just didn't bother. I couldn't enjoy the festival really, because none of the fucking bands interested me and I was only asked to interview one, which was Molotov Jive from Sweden. They did a boat gig and were in a hurry. So the interview only lasted 2m30sec or something like that. Ridiculous, but it made me feel like I felt last year. That was my first interview since The Haunted this January. At least a little bit of fun and experience.
Another horrible thing were the McDonald Eat-for-free vouchers. It's terrible when you can't afford the food that you wanna eat. Or when you're in such a hurry that you cannot be bothered to find the food that you are after. So why not get some shit to eat, since it's for free? I think next time I'll choose to starve. I'd have had so much more fun working as a copywriter at the Hurricane Festival. I'd have done my own thing then.

Who cares.

When it's cold and I'm stressed, my skin would start to itch. Like today. I scratched so hard that I started to bleed. I'm such a wimp because my skin can't even deal with the coldness in autumn. What if I was in Canada in the deep winter? I think I'd simply skin myself with my nails.

Tiredness is kicking in finally. Mustn't sleep too long tonight. I need to get up in time to vote. Just to make it clear: I'm not voting for the sake of Germany. I'm not voting because to everyone it seems to be the right thing to do.
I vote because I'm given the chance to make my own decision about something. If I ever get a choice, I tend to grab it. I don't support any of the parties. I agree and disagree with all of them. I'm not a Democrat, but I have democratic attitudes, because I love the idea of choice, but it doesn't mean I'm on anyone's side. I still haven't made up my mind about my second choice, though.

On the way home I was observing the people on the train. There was this guy who looked like he has been through a lot of emotional conflicts tonight. Maybe his girlfriend had a go at him for being an arsehole. However he didn't look like he meant to do any harm to anyone. Exhaustion and washed out anger could be spotted around his eyes and on his cheeks.

Then there were a lot of teenage girls (all blonde) traveling by train at about 3am. Looked like they had spent their weekend at the Reeperbahn Festival. They reminded me of The Virgin Suicides. They had this sympathising way of looking at one another. Sometimes I recognised envy and sometimes pretense. Who cares anyway? They seemed happy.

The men I looked at had this sharp and fierce glare, which freaked me out. When you see a man with reddened skin you know that he has been drinking too much. What a turn off.

Tonight I noticed that people looking at me tended to stare below, rather than look me in the face. When I interviewed the singer from Molotov Jive, he was constantly keeping eye contact with me, but I couldn't. My eyes wandered off, as if I wasn't even interested in the things he was saying.

Well for the sake of my soul...leave me alone.

00111001

1 x 9 = 9

2 x 9 = 18 -> 1 + 8 = 9

3 x 9 = 27 -> 2 + 7 = 9

4 x 9 = 36 -> 3 + 6 = 9

5 x 9 = 45 -> 4 + 5 = 9

6 x 9 = 54 -> 5 + 4 = 9

7 x 9 = 63 -> 6 + 3 = 9

8 x 9 = 72 -> 7 + 2 = 9

9 x 9 = 81 -> 8 + 1 = 9

10 x 9 = 90 -> 9 + 0 = 9

11 x 9 = 99 -> 9 + 9 = 18 -> 1 + 8 = 9

12 x 9 = 108 -> 1 + 0 + 8 = 9

13 x 9 = 117 -> 1 + 1 + 7 = 9

263 x 9 = 2367 -> 2 + 3 + 6 +7 = 18 -> 1 + 8 = 9

7 + 7 + 1 + 9 + 8 + 4 = 36 -> 3 + 6 = 9

To fuck you up

So full of __ and I don't even know how I've managed to fill myself up so badly the last couple of weeks. I've still not __, either.

It's horrible at __, when all the employees who get on with each other gather around in the common room and leave me alone on __. You just sit there and eat __, which are probably not for free, but they neither have price tags nor __. So who the fuck cares?

My hands are constantly building __ when they are __. I have this urge to __, to __ and to __ those who deserve it. My sense for __ has highly evolved. Day by day I can't think of anything else. It's wasting so much of my __ that I haven't got much __ left to deal with other business other than __.

I wonder what I have to do, so that everyone in this world will be __ with me. And I wonder whether I'm __ yet to move to the next __. I seem to long for it very badly, but I don't even know where to start. I haven't met __ yet who is ready to pay all his __ to me. I long for a __, a __ that causes this special __ and I long for a protective __. Someone who doesn't ask __ and is __ right there with me. Someone who does the __ for real. I don't want __ anymore.

I just want to sincerely fall __ again. But right now this is not __ for me. There is way too much to be __. I can't tell whether __ or __ are suitable for me. At least __ is an appropriate way to avoid __; __ contact is at least something. As long as you feel wanted for a __ or two. It's probably best if he doesnt __ too much, just to avoid __ at the wrong time. But hey, it's __ that I'm talking about. They don't necessarily want __. It doesn't __ them as much anyway if it doesn't work out.

I'm running out of __. What would do me good right now is to have __ and __ with someone like __. I wonder what it'd be like to fall asleep in his __. Is he really that __ underneath that __? I guess I will never know.

This is what I call a mini __ that currently happens every __ at about 4 or 5 in the __. I don't know what I would do without it. That's the thing about me. I don't need __ to talk to with my mouth. As long as I have my __ that tell me how I __, I am alright. They probably make me feel __ in a way but it's ok; it doesn't bother me that much. I know that I will __ what I __ later.

Nothing can __ me now.

People = SHIT

Isn't it weird that there are moments where you choose to freeze? It's not even quite autumn yet, so wearing long sleeve cotton pyjamas would still be too warm. Therefore you choose some random medium-sized t-shirt and you wear nothing else except that and panties. The window of course needs to be open, but the door closed, because others are attempting to sleep. Yes, it's cold, but why should it bother you?

I have this urge of keeping away from people. Particularly those who have a birthday soon and want to celebrate. It's so exhausting. When will people quit that? On Ali's birthday on Friday, I thought I should just give it a go, because the party might turn out well for me somehow and maybe I would get to know some nice people. Fuck that really. All boozers and numerous smokers. My eyes began to burn. Smoking indoors is a horrible thing. There was this one guy (mid thirties maybe - perfect age, but not my type) who was chatting to some of my aquaintances. By the way he eyed me I knew he wanted to talk to me, too, but I stuck around with Pete most of the time, partly because I wanted to prevent that guy from talking to me. What do I fucking want from those people? I don't like talking to anyone at parties about myself. What will they remember? Besides, I don't drink and I don't smoke indoors. I don't even understand why people enjoy house parties. I don't think I'd have gone there, if Pete hadn't gone. He does enjoy socialising, but he doesn't drink, either. Basically we both were the only ones who didn't get into the same kind of mood as everyone. If you want to force me to drink, you can fuck right off. Fucking hell I wish I my body was able to bear the effect of alcohol. And I wish I loved the taste of alcohol, but I don't, I don't! If that bothers you, just tell me to go. As simple as. I don't want to know how many people blamed the alcohol for certain things that happened that night. If you ever blame the alcohol for something like cheating or throwing up, you are a fucking wanker. How pathetic. Damn you...!

I am very picky with the people I choose generally. I like my friends and people neutral with strong personalities. People who don't keep secrets from me, don't mess with me and don't lie to me. Honesty and openness...all that shit, you know. Nothing more that I need. I don't put much value on reliability in friendship anymore, because I am not someone to count on, either. However, it doesn't mean that I don't try. The idea of friendship has become a big issue lately. I think there are times where I shouldn't take it too seriously and simply sit back and wait. It's not always my business what others are up to. But it becomes my business when I find out that my trust and belief in that person have been abused. And still you have to keep your mouth shut sometimes. The only reason why I'm keeping mine shut right now is because I can't be fucking bothered.

To conclude: Do what the fuck you want. I refuse to run after anyone. I won't run after anyone anymore. I've shown enough times that I care. And at the end of the day I'm always the one who gets the short end of the fucking stick. Deal with your problems on your own.

I find it important that people know what they want. Nevertheless there is something even more important: It's not what you want that always counts, what counts more is actually what is GOOD for you. If you know what is GOOD for you, so much the better. I'm not in the mood for people who are blind on the inside.

I judge what I see, observe and experience. I judge when I myself feel affected. If I let you tell me your opinion, you fucking listen to mine!

People are making me tired.

What would happen if

It is so obvious what's happening with me right now isn't it? And I'm still denying myself, my feelings and such...I seem to encounter self-denial in my life very often lately. At least I know what is good for me. But then the urge of wanting to give myself a second chance is too strong. I'm becoming impatient. I'm becoming uncontrollably curious. The question:

'What would happen if...'

However I'm not interested in taking risks right now. Not now. Or am I?

If you want to dig down deep

The biggest lie you ever told [You're not the best mother ever]
Your deepest fear about growing old [Dying]
The longest night you ever spent [In England. Over 24hrs of sleeplessness]
The angriest letter you never sent [To my Catholic host mother]
The boy you swore you'd never leave [I only said I'd be waiting, to hell with that]
The one you kissed on new year's eve [No one, just txt someone I thought was special]
The sweetest dream you had last night [A penguin]
Your darkest hour [When I was close to a nervous breakdown]
Your hardest fight [My heart, my head, my life]

I wanna know you - like I know myself
I'm waiting for you - there ain't no one else
Talk to me baby - scream and shout
I want to know you - inside out
I wanna dig down deep - I wanna lose some sleep
I wanna scream and shout - I wanna know you inside out
I wanna take my time - I wanna know your mind
Ya know there ain't no doubt - I wanna know you inside out

The saddest song you ever heard ['Hurt']
The most you said with just one word [Don't need so say a word, just look at me]
The loneliest prayer you ever prayed [When I was 13 I asked God to make me pretty]
The truest vow you ever made [My goals]
What makes you laugh [Penguins and paradox]
What makes you cry [Uncontrollable emotions]
What makes you mad [People]
What gets you by [Family]
You highest high [Writing, music]
Your lowest low [The past] - these things I want to know

I wanna know you - like I know myself
I'm waiting for you - there ain't no one else
Talk to me baby - scream and shout
I want to know you - inside out
I wanna dig down deep - I wanna lose some sleep
I wanna scream and shout - I wanna know you inside out
I wanna take my time - I wanna know your mind
Ya know there ain't no doubt - I wanna know you inside out
I wanna know your soul - I wanna lose control
Come on n let it out - I wanna know you inside out
Ya gotta dig down deep - I wanna lose some sleep
I wanna scream and shout - I wanna know you inside out
Tell me everything...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that's the least you know. But at least I know you care by asking me these.

All I wanted

Right this very moment it is 4:55am. I have a big head ache and I'm unable to sleep. Started hugging myself during Let's make a night to remember in bed and thought it might be a better idea to get out of bed again and start writing. Yes, otherwise I'd have gone a bit further. This dude is driving me out of my mind. I haven't changed that much when it comes to stupid infatuations. I've been this way since I was eleven. I had written many many love stories when I was a kid. Proabably over twenty. Each story was over 60 pages long. It depended on how mad my current crush was. The funny thing about it was that I considered those as novels. Cute, huh? They were mostly hand written and then typed. I wrote romantic shit, sentimental shit, sad shit. I considered that as my only way to escape reality. The characters I created were more of less my imaginary friends.

A few years later I realised how cheesy I was and tried to get more serious. I startd to read Nicholas Sparks and when I compared my love stories to his, I realised that mine weren't as good. Then my stories became shorter. Rather than calling them "novels" I simply called them "short stories", going up to 5000 words. However, stupid infatuations were needed, in order to write anything. To name a few infatuations, there were Rivers Cuomo, Steve Jones and Bryan Adams. The short stories were written between 1999 and 2000. The other week I rewrote the Bryan Adams one titled All I wanted. And no you won't ever get to read that. If you want to read my short stories, please visit www.terrible-lies.com and click on Fiction in the right column. You only may read stuff I wrote from 2004 onwards. If you'd like to read more, I'll be delighted to send you a few. Well, All I wanted was a story that I was proud of. Nonetheless, I'm happy to post a paragraph:

>> I had Jazz music running in the background, which created a nice, soothing atmosphere in my workshop (which was also my bedroom). I was taking pictures constantly without taking any breaks. She got used to it in the meantime and all of a sudden I recognized a sign of seduction in her eyes. Now she couldn’t take her eyes off the camera, as if she was after the man behind it. She was excellent and genuine; she didn't pretend to be sad or happy. Instead she seized this moment to be vain and alluring. And she was brilliant at it. << href="http://www.last.fm/music/Bryan+Adams/+videos/12008855" mce_href="http://www.last.fm/music/Bryan+Adams/+videos/12008855">Let's make a night to remember then you know what had inspired me to write that story. Dear me, that video was shot in 1996. I was 12. I wonder what I had felt exactly back then.

No more sex music tonight.

September blues

It’s past 1am and therefore my time begins now. I have Darkest Hour on repeat because I felt that their melodic sounds would clear my ears. The entire day has been full of apathy, a bit of rage and self-denial. What was worse is I didn’t know what to do about it. I’m somewhat discouraged. It is nothing new to you that my ex still haunts me in my dreams; at least once a week. No I am not keen on mentioning him, but this is leading to something that I want to tell you about. I think you already have a slight idea about how I imagine Prince Charming? Yes, it is green eyes. I am a sucker for green eyes. In last night’s dream I was with Prince Charming (unfortunately he was nameless and blonde). The reason why I know he was Prince Charming was because there was this intense moment where we were looking into each other’s eyes and I saw my reflection in his with my entire trust. You have no idea how scared I get when it comes to looking into people’s eyes. Reason? I know they’re going to eat my soul. However I felt different about Prince Charming and that already says a lot. But it was only that little moment, which seemed precious. Anyway, don’t you already know that precious moments are ephemeral? Anything else that came after was like biting into a sandwich filled with maggots. Well, firstly the sex was bad, so bad and emotionless that I had to fake an orgasm. Secondly every time I wasn’t looking at him, he’d suddenly be cheating on me with someone else. He’d be having sex right there in front of my eyes. He would even dare to look at me while penetrating some other bitch, as if it didn’t matter. I haven’t been that enraged in my dreams for a long time. I started to build fists and then attempted to hit him in the face. But for some reason I had no power and it didn’t hurt him the slightest. The rage and hate were there, but not the power. I wish I had had something sharp, like a pair of scissors. And I wish Cronos had taken over my body. I’d have let him do the job, as I don’t have the guts. Still you are free to do anything in your dreams. No one but you can see them. Like you have no idea about the story I’m telling you.

So much to Prince Charming. So much to green eyes. For some strange reason I’m thinking about Bluebeard. He is someone who asks for nothing but trust and everyone abuses it. You must feel so disgusted about the fact that I empathize with a fictional serial killer. I can only shrug my shoulders. My actions are godless, unreasonable and stubborn, because I know no forgiveness. However, family and friends deserve second chances, but lovers zero.

I am looking forward to my second novel, which is going to be about a female doctor, a nymphomaniac suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder. She will be the embodiment of Cronos. Ellen Parker is her name and she will do what needs to be done. Please remember her name, as you will encounter this name again.

I think what totally numbed me the entire afternoon was the disappointment that there was no Prince Charming. But do you know what? So much the better. There’s no one to waste my time, as I’ve already wasted over 1000 days in my youth. I’d like to be free the next ten years. Anyway, I’d still like to have some fun every now and then please. I know it is an easy thing to say, I admit. But it’s true that my family comes first and then my goals. I just don’t think that people can count on me as a good friend that will stick around forever. I’ve become a very bad listener that I sometimes have to remind my heart that I should be empathizing. The weird thing is that I only empathize with people when I observe them. I don’t like hearing them talk anymore, unless they speak in metaphors: Words and descriptions which are strong and bombastic. It’s more interesting when you don’t understand them. What do you want sympathy for anyway? Why would you want people to understand you? This is why I quit visiting my psychiatrist who only referred my character to the culture of my own race. That is not the first step to enter my head Mister. He was just one of those bastards who wouldn’t even recognize me in a crowd full of Asian people. We all look the same, don’t we? Ignorant. At least my gynecologist recognizes me in the supermarket.

I am still scared of ghosts. I never actually wrote the real reason down in my journal. All you knew was that I sleep with the desk lamp on. I am scared of sleeping in the dark, because this is where I feel most vulnerable. I’ve grown to hate sleeping in general. So I only go to sleep when I feel tired.

“Every night I go to bed I get scared of ghosts. When lying in bed I’d always be facing the outside, so I can see if someone is standing right there in front of me.” – July 5th 09

That was the first sentence of my blog entry from over a month ago. On July 28th I had a very bizarre incident that made me question my sanity. So far I’ve only told close people about it. But well, I know many people have it even worse than I do. However, I woke up that night at about 5am. I had forced my eyes open as if I had wanted to escape from a nightmare or something. Strange thing is that I do not remember what I had dreamt. It was just a sudden awakening. And as soon as I had turned my head I saw a fat person wearing a red suit with tartan patterns standing next to my bed. I recognized no head and therefore can’t really tell whether it was a man or a woman, but I guess it was a man. I screamed and then watched this person slowly floating away. I jumped out of my bed to turn the light on. Everything had gone then. The moment I crawled back to bed, I felt a heavy tremble, as if the bed was moving. I screamed again and jumped up. That was when I realized that it had only been my body shaking and not my bed.

God, I don’t want to experience that again. Each night when going to bed, when switching on the desk lamp, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t see tartan patterns anymore either.

I am scared of the night and yet I adore it so. 4:08am.

I want Prince Charming to give me my soul back. I want to stop living in self-denial and finally let go off this hate. But I can’t.

Tattoos (please note, pictures are only posted on myspace)

Alright you guys have been asking me to post pictures and I promised to show you some. And I will only do this in my blog. I won't post my tattoos in my photo albums. I don't know, I find it too personal. At least not many people read my blog, so there you go.

1. Tattoo on right arm - The Question Mark

My first tattoo. A socalled semi-permanent tattoo, which apparently doesn't exist. I'm the living proof, too, because I was told that it would disappear after 5 years. I had it done when I was 18/19. The meaning is simple, but philosophical. I have too many questions in my life to which I have no answers. I used to admire John Rzeznik's tattoos. He has loads of question marks tattooed on his arm and a man sits in the middle of it.


2. Tattoo down the back on the right - The Fish/Shark

The only tattoo that doesn't really have a meaning. I like fish, they are quiet and don't complain. I sort of associated it with the band Feeder, because Grant Nicholas used to have a goldfish named Feeder.


3. Tattoo on the left shoulder - The Moon

It is about Shakespeare. Whenever he mentions the moon in his plays, people don't seem to be quite sane and they start to do something crazy. Take Othello as an example. The moon symbolises madness. I used to associate it with my ex, as I used to call him names that contained the word "moon". Well, I had it redone this year, so it's all brand new now.


4. Tattoo on the neck - Zodia Sign

No, goddammit, it's not Pisces, it's not Gemini. I'm Cancer. If you have no idea what all the zodiac signs look like, then google them. Well, I wanted the circle bits to look different, so it wouldn't look so boring. I told the tattoo artist that I wanted them to portray alien heads. And he did a damn good job. It's my best tattoo so far without having had any trouble. The fine lines prove it all. Every time people look at it, I know what they think and I want them to be honest. Come on: sperm, tadpoles, skulls, etc.


5. Tattoo on the right shoulder - Saturn

Saturn has a long story: It is my favourite planet, even though people say it is the planet of death and destruction. Saturn is the planet of my favourite God from Greek Mythology. His name is Cronos, the God of Harvest and the origin of the Grim Reaper. You know this cloaked guy carrying a sickle? He is based on Cronos because Cronos castrated his father with a sickle and let him bleed to death. The idea of the Grim Reaper simply fascinates me. Lastly Saturday derives from Saturn. The sixth day equals the sixth planet. I was born on a Saturday.
It's getting redone soon.


6. Tattoo on my left wrist - Rorschach's signature

I would never get anything tattooed that's based on a real life person, but fictional characters are an exception. Watchmen is my favourite comic book and Rorschach my favourite comic book character. Despite of the right-wing attitude, he fights for justice. He knows who he is and what his job is. I admire his black and white thinking. I wish I was like that sometimes. Everything would then be so much easier. But what I admire most is his honesty, because he's a moral absolutist. "Never compromise, not even in the face of armageddon..." He makes me question my honesty or what I call honesty. Maybe I'm not as honest as you think I am.

The becoming

I'm having my own The Downward Spiral gig right this very moment. Following NIN and Rob Sheridan on Twitter was painful as hell. So they played the entire Spiral album from beginning to end in New York, eh? Thanks Rob for this fucking piece of information. I'd have been better without this shit. You call it epic, I call it bullshit.
Yes, I do act like a bitter child that didn't get the toy that she was asking for, so be it.
See you again live on stage when I'm 35, when we're all old and worn out! Fuck's sake. Envy can kill you from the inside. Feel like I'm not good enough as the American fans. Al Jourgensen played 3hrs with Ministry during their Farewell tour. 3 hrs in each fucking city, no matter where.

It's all about money.


I just ruined my favourite Bukowski shirt that I wear for bed. It's medium sized for boys, so it's rather wide and the sleeve got stuck on the fucking doorknob. I got so pissed off that I pulled even harder until it finally tore a hole. Now I regret having done this. That flow of anger was overwhelming, though. It was such a metaphorical incident as well, that I suddenly had to relate this event to all others that I have experienced in life so far. You know? Just getting things worse than they already are.
Well there was a cause that triggered this little bit of anger. Before that incident my mum had put the (dead) Bonsai plant on my table. (You remember the Bonsai plant from my other blog entries!) She was saying "Let's be realistic...this plant is dead!" I was looking at the dry brown leaves and the flower soil, which I had never ever fertilized. Why? Because I have no idea how to do it. Why? Because I never informed myself about it. Why? Because I couldn't be bothered.

It was supposed to be a present for their Silver anniversary. Both of them refused to take care of the plant. It disappointed me. So I didn't want to take care of it, either. I had done nothing except for watering it. This is what I'm like. And you thought I was such a caretaker.

Current favourite song on the album is ruiner, I'm not sure why. I guess it's the line that goes nothing can hurt me...nothing can stop me now. These lines make my inside go whooosh! Just as if there was a demon that controls it all. Why worry about if it gives me sensation? Besides it's a sign of courage and ambition. Ten years ago, I would have cried in bed. So would you go for tears or anger?

I'd better stop before a warm place attempts to mellow me out. What I would write during that song would knock you out. You don't need to mention hurt.

So much selfish babbling lately, eh? Remember it's your choice to witness this.

Soberness

Right now I'm feeling as sober as the evening in Helsinki last summer after having smoked weed for the first time. That was a nice experience. Weed gets you to like things that you don't usually like. You look at all the negative aspects in your life and suddenly see the fun part within the negative countenances. I think that's the way The Comedian is. After a while of thinking I realised that he can be a person to look up to. Because after all he is just a lonely fighter that no one understands. And the admirable thing is he doesn't care.

I haven't touched weed again since last summer. Why? The opportunity never occurred again since then. Besides the aftereffect isn't necessarily pleasant for certain people. In my first sentence I was talking about soberness. The aftereffect of weed is unlimited soberness. You begin to wonder why you are able to deal with 100 thoughts at once all of a sudden. Your mind is caught in the webs of melancholy and your eyes will stare at the first object it sees. If it's a stone you'll begin to freeze. If it's a withered flower you'll see a dead Ophelia. These truths are inevitable!

I cannot forgive people who drink in order to keep their eyes shut from these imageries. They deserve to be blind and get paralyzed by nightmares. There is no moment that is more worthy than the moment of soberness. You can face the demon right here and now. A clear mind is what a buddhist aims for after all. And I feel like a buddhist right now, but without the need of meditation. Sometimes soberness itself can cause a mini epiphany.

A poem and a song

Hours

Seventeen hours of being awake
Each day it is all the same
Uncertain of this life being a fake
Need cash to finish off this game

Seven hours of numbing slumber
Each night hands on the dimmer
Only slowly switching to a lower number
Until you see the black star shimmer

Twenty four hours of heartbeat
With 120 beats a minute
The very moment our hands meet
Take this chance and win it

___________________________________


Black Wings

(Verse)
Feeling so disillusioned
Seeing the past, the presence and the future
All in one screen
Everything wants attention

(Chorus)
On the edge of the creek
The horizon begins to blur
Feet are losing balance
But the wings won't open

(Verse 2)
Trying to undo the fusion
Indifference is just around the corner
Awaiting my command
It's time to give a sign

(Chorus)
On the edge of the creek
The horizon begins to blur
Feet are losing balance
But the wings won't open

On the verge of the creek
The horizon begins to blur
Head is spinning fast
And the wings won't open

(Bridge)
Let the tailwind blow
It's gonna be a damn good show
Test of courage at its best and don't
Don't you dare to leave me here alone

(Chorus)

(End)
And the wings...
Will take you to eternity

Michelle

Do you want to know a secret? Sure you do. You always do.

Well, when I was younger I used to look up on a model and actress. And I just realised that I still do. I thought she was the most beautiful (half)Asian ever. Her name is Michelle Reis. (I only just found out her name.) She was Miss Hong Kong in 1988 at the age of 18. I had learnt about her in the early nineties. My parents used to have calendars imported from Hong Kong. There was a large picture of her. All I could think of was that I wanted to look just like her.
So from that time on whenever I go through my own stories in my head or whenever I was dreaming of someone, I imagined myself as her, kissing the man of my life or something. I have been doing that since I was about ten or eleven. And yes, I only just realised that I still do. That is why I had to find out her name to make sure she's a real person. And that she is someone that I am not.

Yes, I probably lacked of confidence.


What are you waiting for? Google her.

Goals

My four main goals in life are (in order, so it makes sense) :

1. To release at least four books

2. To give my parents all the money back that they'd spent on me

3. To become a vegetarian (or at least a pescetarian)

4. To get photographed by Bryan Adams


So do you think these are realistic goals? Well, nothing can stop me now.

The right language and pronunciation

( For the English version, please visit: www.terrible-lies.com )

Ich weiß nicht mal, wo ich anfangen soll. Ich empfinde momentan sehr wenig Müdigkeit, aber sobald ich eingeschlafen bin, kann ich glatte neun Stunden schlafen. Andere machen große Augen, wenn ich sage, dass ich erst zwischen fünf und sechs Uhr morgens ins Bett gehe. Der Grund? Weil ab 1Uhr morgens ich endlich die Zeit und Ruhe für mich habe. Aber vier bis fünf Stunden Alleinsein ist einfach nicht genug. In der Nacht vergeht die Zeit noch schneller als sonst. Es liegt aber auch daran, dass ich extrem beschäftigt bin mit lesen oder schreiben. Jedes Mal, wenn ich auf die Uhr schaue ist bereits eine Stunde vergangen, und ich stehe dann unter Zeitdruck. Noch später als sechs Uhr morgens sollte man echt nicht ins Bett gehen. Warum suche ich auch nach einer Vollzeitarbeit? Mein Körper müsste sich dann die neue Schlafroutine aneignen. Doch na klar, ich brauche Geld, wer nicht? Nur des Geldes wegen würde ich diese Routine ändern. Was kümmert mich das, wenn das ungesund ist. Manche arbeiten erst in der Nacht, und ich bin einer von denen.
Ich hasse den Tag. Draußen zu sein, wo ich jede Sekunde Leute sehe, sei es im Auto oder auf dem Gehweg. Sie müssen dich auch noch angucken, obwohl man sich nicht kennt. In New York würden sie dich nicht mal erst wahrnehmen.
Zweimal hat das Telefon heute geklingelt. Das ist auch so eine Sache. Ich hasse das Ding und vor allem das schreckliche Geräusch. Und nein ich bin nicht rangegangen.
Ich will nicht wieder zurück zum Doktor. Er versteht das Ganze leider nicht. Mir wurde vorgeschlagen einen weiblichen Arzt aufzusuchen. Bei meiner frauenfeindlichen Einstellung sag ich lieber nein. Das Telefon klingelt wieder. Ich gehe wieder einmal nicht ran.
Warum wollen sie sich mit mir treffen? Mit mir Kaffee trinken? Mit mir durch die Stadt ziehen? Auch noch an einem helligen Tag im Sommer. Meistens sag ich zu, weil ich es mir so vorkommt als schuldige ich den Leuten meine Anwesenheit. Dabei will ich doch bloß alleine sein. Ich bin einfach nicht für so was gemacht. Manchmal rufe ich zurück und schlage einen Tag vor, wo man was unternehmen könnte, aber eigentlich will ich alleine sein. Es gibt wenige Ausnahmen, weil es sehr wenige Leute gibt, die mir was bedeuten.
Ich glaub jeder Arzt würde mich als Schizoid beschreiben, der sich irgendwann zu etwas Schlechtem entwickeln würde. Stimmt aber nicht. Menschen brauchen Nähe, Menschen brauchen Abstand. Und manchmal braucht man von dem einen halt mehr als sonst.
Ich bin egoistisch, weil ich nicht dazu bereit bin anderen ernsthaft zu helfen. Erst recht nicht, wenn ich mir selbst nicht richtig helfen kann, und ich aus mir selbst noch nichts gemacht habe.
Viele haben Angst vor dem Alleinsein, davor dass niemand für sie da ist, wenn sie einen brauchen. In solchen Fällen spür ich keinerlei Furcht. Und das werde ich in den nächsten zehn oder fünfzehn Jahren auch nicht spüren. Ich werde viel zu beschäftigt dafür sein. Mir reicht es Leute zu haben mit denen ich schriftlich darüber reden kann, mehr brauche ich nicht. In Momenten, wo Leute nicht alleine sein könnenen und anfangen zu heulen würden sie sofort den besten Freund anrufen oder zu ihm gehen. Das habe ich zuletzte mit 19 gemacht. Jetzt heiß es Zigarette anzünden und spazieren gehen. Manche wollen in solchen Augenblicken nur alleine sein. Ich hasse Leute, die zu vieles von mir erwarten.

Natürlich sehne ich manchmal nach Nähe. Gerade jetzt, wo mein Herz wieder offen ist und wieder bereit ist zu vertrauen. Es ist jedoch sehr wählerisch und verliebt sich momentan nur in Menschen, die was im Leben erreicht haben und es schaffen mein Herz zu berühren und zu reinigen. Dies schafft man auch nur mit den richtigen Worten. Auf Englisch.

Dilemma served cold

The phrase of the day:

"I don't want presents...you can get me presents once you got yourself a proper job..."

I've not quite made up my mind on how to feel about it. On the one side I'm very hurt and on the other I just don't give a flying fuck (anymore).

I just can't help feeling that something very wrong is going on.
And my current need is something very unhealthy. Fighting against it is driving me crazy.

Summer pondering

So far I’ve met many, many easy-going people. I’m not going to say people with “common sense”, because everyone has a different perception on everything and everyone. I want to focus on little things and how different people perceive those little things. Whilst some don’t bother, there are others who fucking take these little things personally. As if these little things mean the world to them. And then you are at fault when you don’t realize it. I’ve never paid much attention to people like that, until I saw that in a girl once. And today I saw it in my mother. No wonder why we argue so much. There are close people of yours who want to know each banal thing regarding you, such as “Did you take the train or the bus?” Something that not even you care about. But no they make a fuss about it, as if the world depended on it. I’m not talking about mothers and how they perceive things and so on, but I’m talking about people in general. In the end you are being accused of being insensitive, inconsiderate and ignorant. I hate this. You try to tell them that you didn’t mean to and you didn’t do it on purpose. But they are pissed off with you anyway, refusing to accept your apology. Do you still care? In moments like these, I just say sorry once. There are far worse things that I could do to you.
+++

I just realized that my last blog’s title doesn’t quite make sense. I think being indecisive is being grey. It’s similar in the Russian film Night Watch. If you are an Other you’ll get to choose – between black and white. I know what I will choose. This is only if I don’t get the chance of actually thinking about it. I do have plenty of time to ask myself now, though. My only problem is that I don’t want to join parties. It’s like losing a big chunk of your own individuality and in the end you are in the midst of war – fighting against a brother or an uncle. Overall I haven’t quite made up my mind. Maybe there are occasions where you have to decide whose side you are on. Still this doesn’t change the fact that I could slap those people in the face who ask me: Whose side are you on?!
Well, certainly not on yours.
Oh well, a contradictory thing is that I vote. I have to emphasize that don’t have strong beliefs in any party; I vote because I am given the chance to make my own decision. I think everyone should do the same. Free choice, people! Of course it’s also a choice, if you decide not to vote at all. I don’t blame you if you have your own beliefs which none of those parties shape. As long as you have your own beliefs, it’s ok; as long as it is not apathy. However, even if I say I have my own beliefs, too, it’s no use, because I cannot say I can change the world. Not right this very moment anyway.

I think I’ve already mentioned before that I am planning to release three books at least? I’ve changed my mind – it’s going to be four. I’m not going to elaborate here. I’m hoping for the next ten years to be busy. I don’t lack of inspirations, but I lack of the ability to express myself appropriately. It’s hard not to be peculiar in language. I’ve always found it weird when tutors at school and university tended to criticize my style, saying I sounded like Yoda, but they didn’t seem to complain about James Joyce’s “Ulysses”, which I’m not going to read any time soon. I’d feel extremely insulted when reading him.

This is one of the most horrible blogs I ever wrote. No connections, nothing. Shame on me.