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.