Absinthe rush

I suppose I prepared it correctly. You put a cube of sugar on top of the spoon and carefully pour cold water over it. Once the green has turned opaque, it's perfect, right? The experiment shall begin.

It's been twenty minutes since consumption and I think I'm ready. I was shitting myself this afternoon, fearing to face this very moment, fearing to type these words, fearing of what might come out of this. There have been thousands of thoughts in my head the past couple of weeks; re-occurring thoughts that should have been dealt with a long time ago.

But now my mind is in flames and I can see everything clearly; all those pictures of the past right in front of me. And only this time I will be courageous enough to make confessions and to let it all out. It's time to let go, therefore I'm ready to face the demons of regret, hate and wrath.

Bukowski must have been writing in the same condition as me. His honesty is incredible. Oh God, how much I value honesty. However there are people who need to learn to appreciate it. Life is too short for lies and secrets. And I consider my life way too valuable and therefore mourning over the past is not going to bring back anything, as there is no chance of re-living the past. Time to let go.

Here on facebook, I'm going to tag everyone that I'm going to mention in this blog entry. If you want it or not. If you don't want to have anything to do with me afterwards, then fine. I'll accept it, but please talk to me before you go. I might not see any of you ever again, but still you deserve to know the truth.

My head is spinning and before I realise what I'm actually doing, I will just do it without thinking. I'm going to dedicate this to honesty: my religion. I have no time for white lies, either. In the next hours you will learn nothing but the truth. This is the only way for me to start a new chapter in my life; the long awaited chapter.

I don't always tell the truth, because there are times where I'm simply not courageous enough to pull it through. This is the reason for my experiment. I hate this, but it was the only way. I lack of courage, but not tonight.

I had a moment of synchronicity last night and I knew I was ready for writing this, because if I don't do it, this shit won't ever stop haunting me.

So much for the introduction. The game begins now.

I am not a person who can do the same things over and over again. I couldn't live without the flow of changes, no matter if it's good or bad. This is why I like trying new things out and I wouldn't hesitate trying anything. But I'm not often given the chance, you know? Everyone around me is decent and caring; they want the best for me. It's no reason to complain, but after a while I will get bored.

Right now I'm going through a phase where I can neither trust women nor men. I've always got on better with men and certain girls often hated me for that, but jealousy is the least of my problems. However, I trust neither gender, which ultimately states that I don't trust anyone anymore. I'm still learning to trust myself, so what do you fucking want from me!

Misogyny used to be one of favourite topics, but I couldn't care less anymore. Don't we all just want the same thing? So what if the one gender is more sensitive and the other more rational? Who cares anyway? Unfortunately the two genders make us who we are and we seem to be doomed to interact with each other.

Boys and girls - this is who we are. However, this co-existence involves too much trouble. You all know what trouble I'm talking about.

I've been through seven years of trouble. The one or the other surely has more experiences. We all have our stories; stories that made us who we are now. Though, some of us don't feel it's necessary to tell these stories. I'm telling them because they are killing me.

My head is pounding and my heart is racing. My whole body is warm. I still don't know what I am exactly doing, but I want to finish this before I realise what I'm really doing. There is no time.

I cannot stop thinking about the past. Already the thought of it makes me clench my fists hard.
Someone had stolen four years of my life and I won't ever forgive this person. No one has ever lied to me more than he. I am the stupid one because I let it all happen and I believed in those lies even though I knew they were all doing me no good. But once you're in love you are no longer yourself. He cheats on you once, you take him back. He cheats on you twice, you take him back. I don't even want to tell you what I did when he cheated on me for the 5th time.

Thinking back makes me want to slap myself in the face. What would you do when someone said to you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but he just wasn't ready for it yet? Of course you are moved, because he said he wanted to spend the rest of his fucking life with you! The only thing you didn't know is he wants you to sit in the corner and wait for him whilst he goes out to sleep with other girls. So much to "not being ready". Do you think I was clever enough back then to realise that this was what he wanted from me? To sit in the corner and wait? I was too stupid to approach other boys, simply because I was blindly in love and I insisted on being faithful. But what did I get for it? Nothing.

Being taken for granted of course. My heart and body got used, but it didn't bother me at that time. I mean he still wanted to spend the rest of his life with me (!). All that time I was holding on to the wrong thought. I should have listened to my mother. She said to me that the first love wouldn't last.

We got together in spring 2002. Two weeks after we had gotten together, he already started cheating on me. But I didn't find out until months later. At that time I had already formed attachment. I was fully devoted. But I didn't get anything back. The cheating went on and on for four years. You know, you don't have to tell me that I am stupid. At least I am not stupid now, ain't I.

Still he did love me, but that wasn't enough. And if you think you can change a person, then think again. A person can only change when he wants to. You can't do shitall, so you might as well give up. Respect them, but if you can't, then leave them. But I didn't have the courage to leave.

He was selfish and indecisive. He bought me a pair of shoes for my birthday, but do you know what? He found two pairs that he liked but couldn't decide which pair he wanted. So you know what he did? He bought all two of them; simply because he couldn't decide and because he was someone who wanted all. He was the same with girls. Extremely possessive and obsessive. However, he expected me to feel special, because I was his "favourite". I mean who did he think I was? It took me a while to realise that love was not enough.

I got into fights with all the girls that he was hiding in his bed, even with this fourteen year old(!). But she was a Cancerian just like me. She was too young to realise that love makes you blind. I wasn't experienced enough to realise it myself. After all that it was worth making friends with just one girl and that's Louise. She was the only one who truly loved him, too, but she was told the same lies and got hurt just the same. She is the only good thing about having known my ex.

At uni, I suffered my first panic attacks and was close to a mental breakdown. It was funny going to the doctors saying that I might suffer from asthma, due to trouble breathing. In the end my doctor said it was simply a panic attack. All I can say is that I never had those before.

I don't want to go deeper into the story. It's time for confessions now. The relationship with my ex went on and off. That is whenever he decided to see someone else. But nonetheless, I remained faithful and therefore I had missed dozens of opportunities during my time at university in England. It was one of the best times of my life but also one of the most disappointing and I blame my faithfulness. I met so many nice guys who were a hundred times better than my ex, but still I wouldn't let them come any closer to me.

The first one who was sweet to me was Steve. After having smoked some dope he would always knock on my door and ask me "How are you?" I liked him when he was high; he had this angelic face and dreamy eyes. There was one moment in the student union where I would have loved to kiss him. The thought of my ex ultimately prevented me from doing it, though. Besides that I didn't want to hurt Steve. I'm so glad that I still have him as a friend.
That was confession number one.

The next one who treated my nicely was Pete. I remember having an awesome meal with him. We got on so well that I had started to like him. Then the moment came where I was in his room. We had spent hours talking and eventually we kissed. This was the furthest I ever got. Afterwards I rejected him and I was very sorry about that. Still am.

The next one I rejected was Sam. Simply by falling out with him and not talking to him anymore for months. But here I didn't have any interest other than friendship. I valued our friendship a lot, still do. And I am glad that everything went ok in the end. However there was a time where I did wonder whether I like him or not. But friendship was stronger.

Then along came Matthew. Here I could really kill myself for messing up my chances with him. He was so nice to me and truly had feelings for me as well. No one had ever shown me so much respect. He said I made him feel good about himself. No one had ever told me anything like that before. But I knew I was hurting him by hanging round with him so much, but it felt so good being with him. A girl just wants someone as dedicated as him. When thinking about us two sitting at the noodle bar exchanging Christmas presents makes me want to cry. It couldn't have been more wonderful than that, but I didn't let anything happen. So of course no one is going to wait for you forever, when you constantly keep the door shut. Here my chances with him were officially over.

The next confession is the one I'm most scared about. So I keep asking myself what if I only had one day to live. What would I do? I would definitely make this confession of course. I got to know Nick at the second year of uni, but I didn't make much of him at that time, not until third year. That was where I saw this sparkle in his eyes. That hit me like a rock and my emotions were all stirred up. Then I realised that I had fallen for him. I would make sure not to miss his lessons. My heart would pound crazily during each lesson and I would listen to every word he said. I would read each book that he had mentioned. He fascinated me, that's all I can say. I even made him a CD, gave him books and talk with him about my favourite band. I was like a stupid little teenager. You might say that this is stereotypical, but I don't care. The feelings were real. He helped me a lot. I just don't think I'll ever see him again. Every time my ex hurt me I had wished Nick was there, but he was only in my head. It was very painful.

Towards the end of my stay in England I was totally messed up. Unhappily in love and endless stress with my ex who even threatened to break my nose because I had told his mother about the underage girl. Police were involved and I was busy with my final exams. I still wonder how I managed to pass. I was such a mess back then. After all I realised that it was finally over and that I would never see him again. Still I was off my head and I was offering sex to people, because I wanted to be rid of my ex for good. Chris was the only one who responded with sincerity and told me to calm down. Hell knows what I would have done if he hadn't talked to me. Even now he is telling me to re-connect with my spiritual side. And honestly I still don't know what he is talking about. In a way I do, but I'm way too focused on what my body is telling me.

Since I'm back in Germany I haven't had much luck. I've only encountered love with geographical issues. Mixen is my first lesson of a one night stand. It wasn't supposed to be like that at first, but I think it just simply didn't work, which was ok. I mean he was being truthful right at the beginning. Again I was stupid and naive. I traveled all the way up to Copenhagen to see him. And the day after I got sent home. I was constantly telling myself that it was ok, but I was suffering from it for months and even started smoking occasionally since then. I couldn't deal with it. I met him again not long ago and we seemed to still get on well, so I thought we were still friends. Nevertheless, a few days ago he deleted me from facebook. Just like that. No goodbye.

Earlier this year I met Dan from London, whom I had the longest and most refreshing conversation with so far this year. Talking in English is one of my greatest passions. I immediately felt attracted to him. He even gave me my fifth kiss. Then he had to go back to London. The next thing I did was booking a flight and hotel to go see him. But bad timing had ruined the trip for me. It didn't work out. So in the end the only advantage of the trip was to use that opportunity to clear my head. I needed time to think about what I had been doing at all. Am I supposed to follow guys around the globe? Spending my dad's money in order to find love?

Goddamn.
I don't know why I do so much for guys. What's in there for me?
And people wonder why I think so little of myself.

I don't know what I have become. My ex would just laugh at me if he read this. Who knows, he would probably even be happy to see me like this. All I can think about is why is he not dead, yet? This is a question that constantly flies around in my head.
Now I've reached the point where I have no more romanticism left for anyone.
Maybe this all was a lesson; a lesson for not having grabbed my chances whilst I had them.

I don't know about second chances. Who knows whether I'll meet someone like Matthew again? Someone who respects me and doesn't take me for granted. But right now I have other problems I need to deal with. So a lover would just complicate my plans. And I don't want to be back in that hole again.

I'm too tired now. All I think about is my family. They are the only people who truly care about me and would do anything for me. What distances me from them is the fact that I don't share these thoughts with them, because it's unnecessary. It's something I need to deal with on my own. So why worry them.

This is as honest as I can get. Whether you understand it or not. I'm writing this, because I want to leave it behind. If some of you feel attacked or offended, then you know what to do.

I'm coming to an end now. So what do you think you get for being honest? If you have read "The Misanthrope" by Molière, then you know.


I'll be offline from here for a while. The only updates will be available on Twitter.

Being able to resist anything but temptation

Some alone time is good. Just haven't lived it to the fullest yet. It's not the time for it now anyway. I will do that once everyone has forgotten about me. There are people I want to spend time with right now. It may seem like it's ages away, but in less than four months I will not be here anymore. Therefore I owe my friends some time. How much I do want to be alone sometimes, I just can't waste these hours on myself. So much to that.

I have this feeling that I contradict myself very often. I say I'll do this and that but in the end I forget about it. Luckily it's just simple things like "taking a break from myspace". And here I am, typing and typing. I don't seem to be able to keep my fingers off the keyboard. You know the moment you start eating crisps? You can't stop until the bag is empty. What a horrible habit. I cannot resist letters - letters that form words and of course you can't resist crunchy crisps. Resistance is such a difficult thing. Right now I can't fight against it; when it starts to itch, I'll scratch it. Sometimes until it bleeds. I'm not given much of a chance at the moment; therefore I can't say I'm sinning at all. I have good people around me; I have my friends and family. All decent and trustworthy. But I still feel empty at some point and constantly have to think of the past; like thinking of people I had missed out my chances with for example. Thinking about it isn't going to change anything, though, especially whining about it. But the hard thing is to deal with it. I resisted temptation just to prove faithfulness and I can't tell whether it was dumb or what. But that's another story.

The other day I saved a snail again. I have the tendency to save snail from pathways. They usually come out on rainy days, wondering round like tourists visiting a foreign city. But the snail I saved was lying upside down and it had pooped itself full. The black bunch of excrement was lying on its body. The look of it was dreadful. I thought that must be what life is like when no one's there to give you a slap in the face. I grabbed it with two fingers to put it back on its feet (did I say feet?). So it was literally standing on its own shit. I refused to do anything more than that. I'll help you to stand up, but I won't help you cleaning up your shit. I'll keep you away from woodlice and ants, but nothing more than that. The day after the snail was nowhere to be found.

This story reminds me of another one from the past. I used to hang out with great people except a few who were off their heads. There was one summer where my friends and I were having a barbeque. It was a rather humid summer and therefore many slugs were about. And I was watching a (so-called) friend doing something absolutely horrible. I personally think that slugs are disgusting, but they are not much different from snails. I touch snails, but I wouldn't touch a slug. Well, what my (so-called) friend did was pouring salt on its body. These creatures can't scream, they can't shout at you, they can't express their pain to you. Its body became slimier and you knew the salt was burning it to death. I can't believe that I was just sitting there - watching him do it. He laughed. I did nothing.

This is where I started to think about karma. Karma will pay it back to him. I told a very special person that I saved snails from pathways and he told me that was a good karma and in my next life I might become a snail myself; a snail that will live its life to the fullest. I'm not sure about that to be honest...That slug won't ever forgive me for watching it getting killed.

Maybe my head wasn't clear back then. I don't know. However, I used to be a very crude person in the past and I guess that was my problem. I was numb and hardly knew how to react to certain things. I didn't have much that would stimulate my mind. Gosh that was such a long time ago. I would never want to be the same person again.

I was told that I was a sober-minded writer. This makes me want to try something out in my next blog entry. It's going to be an experiment that involves no one but my own self. So beware.

Nostrad-anus

Is it true that after the 20th century the lonesome crow will stop carking?

And the barren lady who detests life through (abortion and) contraception shall deserve the punishment of lonely barren life without husband and children?

Farewell to arms, legs and head

I've been wanting to fly - fly into someone's arms whilst listening to one of my favourite songs in the background, such as "bug eyes" by Dredg. That someone might as well be mute, because I don't feel like talking at all. I can communicate with him through writing. Many men don't like that, but well I do. It gives you time to think and you can avoid saying something stupid or anything that's wrong. I'm not often up for spontaneity, you know. So far this year, I've only had one worthwhile conversation. In writing, you can create something perfect, something that comes deeply from the heart. Not many people understand that. Many want to talk on the fucking phone. I just like surprise calls that are short and sweet, but that doesn't happen often. Phone's the most impersonal thing ever for me. I only use the phone in cases of emergency, nothing else. I'm lucky that people don't tend to call me.

Ok the song's over and I'm still in no one's arms...

Weird is that because of this, I seem to want to be alone even more. How contradictory it sounds, I just want everyone to get the fuck out of my way and leave me in peace. It's not just that I don't feel like talking; I also find it hard to listen to what you say and it always takes me a while to take it all in. I do listen after all. However I don't have much to say lately and it often takes me days to respond to a conversation which is 2 days old. And I only respond when it means something to that person, preferably in writing. If not, then what the fuck ever. Who cares. Write me an email instead and you'll get a response for sure. I feel bent. Maybe that's the problem. Simply on the verge of not caring anymore. I have become so insensitive. Soon people will hate me for that.

At the moment I'm reading "The Body" by Stephen King - the story which the film "Stand By Me" was based on. At the very beginning Gordie Lachance writes something about how ridiculous it is to tell a secret. All because people you tell this to won't understand you the way you want them to. They'd just look at you funny and wonder what the hell is wrong with you. And this makes the secret less special and it loses meaning.

This is my response to those who have problems to evaluate me. However, I don't see what the difficulty is, I mean I tell you so much about myself. You should be able to read me now (I'll kill you if you do that, you hear).

I seem to start reading so many books lately without finishing them. I don't seem to understand William Faulkner in "As I Lay Dying", Jack Kerouac is boring me with "Big Sur" and Anais Nin's erotic short stories are starting to put me off, because one story is about a Lesbian threesome and this doesn't fit with my misogynistic views.

But today I went to the library before work and I found out that Marco Weiss wrote a book, which I immediately read.
Last year I told you about this 17 year old German boy who went on holiday to Turkey with his family. He got to know a teenage English girl who had lied to him about being 15 years of age, even though she was just 13. She had tried to get him to bed, but he had refused. She then took it personally and told her parents that he had sexually abused her. Her mother had immediately pressed charges against Marco. So Marco had to go to jail for the time being. It was proven that the girl was still a virgin, though, but the girl's mother still didn't give up. Nonetheless, there was no evidence and Marco's trial constantly got delayed. A few months later the girl finally did a statement, but she was describing how Marco had been abusing her. So eventually he had spent 8 months in Turkish prison, because he couldn't prove himself right. However, this case got tedious and last summer Marco finally got sent home (, even though the case is not over yet).

This is a very very short version of the whole story. I stood by this boy because I know what underage teenage girls in England can be like (call me bias then!). German kids/teenagers aren't as mature as the English kids. German kids are more childlike and more inexperienced. And Marco was just like that with 17. He already "came" when that girl had tried to open his trousers. Who else is man enough to admit such an embarrassing incident?!

Well, what I'm driving at is the fact that people asked him how he feels about that girl now, whether he hated her for what she did. And you know what he said? He said no.
Then people also asked him whether this had changed his view on girls in general. And again he said no. In fact, he is now happily taken.
I couldn't believe it when I read that he didn't hate her. That little slut took 8 months of his life! Another question was: What would you do if you saw her again?
Marco said that he would simply ignore her.
I have no comment on that. Simply because Marco had found God and I know religious people tend to forgive. I'm not religious and I don't see a point in forgiving, even if it's going to haunt me. So does this make me a bad person?

Right now I'm staring at my bookshelf - staring at a particular book. It is "A farewell to arms" by Hemingway. It has been in my shelf for years now and I still haven't read it. And something is telling me to do it.

I feel so exhausted. I don't even want to think anymore or care about anyone's business. It's so hard to stay out of it though, because people put you straight in without you wanting it. And then you start to wonder why I want to keep distance. I'm still dealing with this head and heart thing, so don't disturb me.

Heroes

What a day. I felt happy and sad at the same time. I'm sure you're going to get me wrong when I start telling you about it, but however, at least I know what I am talking about.

I have been thinking about whether it's worth keeping your heroes or not. I'm talking about real life people (evidently those you have never met). You think you know so much about them, but in fact you don't know more than just a single chapter of their lives. But that chapter is the reason why they have become your heroes and why they have such an immense influence on you. Ultimately that's the reason why you admire them.
What you don't realise is that time goes by and people change. They have suddenly found their identity, they got engaged, they are happy and they plan to have children. They even talk about wanting to watch romantic comedies with their loved ones.
In the past your hero was nothing like that. He was going through a lot of phases in his life and music and writing were the only things that kept him sane and prevented him from killing himself. He produced music not only to express and reflect himself; but also to communicate with people out there who felt exactly the same. And I felt spoken to. That's the moment where you think you have found a soul mate, who is ultimately your hero. You felt the same pain, the same anger and cried the same amount of tears.

So what if that person has changed drastically? In a positive way?
Yes you are happy for him. He has reached the first stage of happiness. Well, you're not just happy for him, you are envious as well, because you don't know how far you still have to go until you get there, too. It took him about twenty years. So how far will I have to go? I'm not as intelligent and talented as him. Will it take me my entire life?
The only sad thing is that you can hardly identify yourself with his latest music. When he sings his old songs, which you love, you feel this happiness in his voice which just doesn't seem to fit at all and he tries his best to sound as aggressive as possible. It's the wrong mood. It becomes so wrong that the songs lose their identities.

I'm trying not to see this in such a negative way, because people change and nothing is more wonderful than changing for the better.
Still I have to say that I still love this man. For what he has created.

After all, he is my second hero. No one will ever beat John Lydon, who taught me honesty and individuality. The one who taught me to think for myself. He has made me to the person that I am now. I've been this way since I was 16. He hasn't changed and he never will. If good people stay good throughout their lives, there is no need for changing anything. And he is the best example.

Some people (including Lydon) say that heroes are useless. It's still cleverer than to allocate yourself to some religion, right? Kids tend to look up to their parents and see them as their heroes - there is nothing wrong with that. What's more beautiful than having someone wise who can teach you about life. It gives you opportunities to explore your own mind and views. Your heroes only lead you to a roundabout and it's up to you which way you want to choose.

I know happiness is meant for everyone at some point. Your heroes are the best examples.

Truth be told I'm lying.

First of all, I have no intentions of telling the truth of how I feel about certain things that I'm going to tell you about now. Therefore I will be lying. Don't even think of taking any of this seriously...


Why do I bother telling people that I feel lonely, I'm not. I just can't have enough time for myself. I have become quieter than before. Being in groups is still utter horror to me and I try my best to simply get out of it. Groups consisting of strangers that is; people who know each other but are strangers to me. I won't make the first step to talk, I've never been that way and I never will be. I have my own way of getting to know people. I couldn't care less about the other ways like getting introduced to 5-6 strangers at the same time. Who cares about how I feel about certain people. Some can just come and then disappear forever for all I care.
There is no use getting to know people who have no influence on your life. Why would you buy shoes that don't fit you.

I can curse my honesty sometimes. I got chatted up last night in my favourite club. That guy asked me whether I went to the club often. I said yes and I even told him when my favourite party night was. So, well what if he shows up next time and insists on buying me a drink? How the fuck can I send him to hell? I couldn't give a shit about guys who are interested in me. How non-challenging. How boring. Interest is not enough.

My fucking skin. I want to tear off my fucking skin, shed it and then grow a new one. One that's healthy and free from chronic stress and allergy. Sometimes I get so choleric and angry that I could skin myself. But why blaming the skin, when the blood's causing all the trouble.

I was talking to a friend of mine. Very lovely, caring and confident. She's over twenty and still a virgin; never been kissed either and never had a boyfriend. Anyone who likes her needs to mean it and show it and eventually propose to her if so. She has never been in love either. What can you say - respect. But I haven't actually made up my mind about how I really think about it. Still, I'm not going to share my opinion on this and I'm definitely not going to lie.

And I constantly complain about having wasted my youth. What about my friend? Well, she has been working hard for her future and still is. She is going to make something out of herself. This makes me ask myself whether I'm doing the same. I don't know. I haven't let go off the past...what a burden and that's all I can worry and mourn about. Have I ever lived for today? (I have shared my opinion anyhow.)

After all, have I been lying about my feelings at all throughout this post? I was testing myself.
Being unable to lie is a curse. There are so many people I want to lie to and I seem to fail each time. There are people who just don't deserve knowing the truth or they're just not ready. Even though I'm obsessed by it, I'm not ready for it either. Until then, question marks will cover the meaning. Until then, it will remain sealed.