That biscuit only diverted her for a tiny moment. Other people would just step into their shoes and go outside. She thought a nice taste of something sweet would occupy her brain for a while. Maybe she had been lying to herself all this time without realizing it. Once you’ve got what you want, you are not convinced about your dreams and desires anymore. Though, she was different. Ever since that dream she had come to realize that she was ready for something which she had dreaded for so many years. Sex. Ellen was a type of girl who was aware of her mistakes and thoughtlessness; despite of all the unpleasant consequences she had experienced and caused by herself. If nothing happens in your life, you tend to breed something exciting, something evil no matter what the outcome is. You prepare yourself a strawberry surprise and jump straight in like a thirteen year old. Taking risks after demonstrating years of innocence and loveliness which are by no means genuine or authentic of any kind, but at least good enough to deceive people around you. But she had never jumped into a strawberry kiss; not with thirteen, not with fourteen. She only remembered having almost choked on pure absinthe at the age of 24. That biscuit’s aftertaste reminded her of a pink lady apple she had never bitten into before, but she had always imagined the taste.
There was a boy sitting on her bed that she hadn’t noticed before. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“What are you talking about? Have you got a blackout again or something?”
She noticed the song Hole to feed in the background. “I don’t know.”
“Come here.” He reached for her hand. Their legs were touching and she could feel his warm breath on her ear.
“Who are you?”
“Shush…” His kisses on her neck made her twitch upon which he embraced her tightly. If electricity and lust were the same, this is how it would feel, she thought, remembering that feeling again. Then unexpectedly, she pushed him violently down the pillow and sat on top of him.
“Just so you know buddy, you’re here cos I want you and not the other way round. You got it?!”
Before he had the chance to nod, her lips were already pressed hard against his. Something uncontrollable was steering her emotions so that her violent acting was impossible to stop. Her head was burning up and her heart racing; the biscuits’ aftertaste was still there, but reminded her of absinthe. She felt like taking a bite into the pink apple. He screamed.
Maybe it wasn’t sex she was dreading, but something else. That was because in her past, sex used to be easy. For her, it was important to make more effort than the man did. Due to that way of thinking she was convinced to have been a man herself in her previous life. In this lousy life she was punished by karma – there was no doubt. If you don’t notice yourself coming, there is no reason of having them in first place, she thought. There was nothing more embarrassing than having him to remind you that you had come and that you could stop already. Some men don’t care how you feel as long as they feel your come on their hands, mouth or dick. So…best you can do is make them feel good, forget about yourself during sex, girl.
She was close to forgetting what it felt like in general. She even dreaded her vibrator, ice spoons and tampons. What does it mean if a woman fears her own gender, not to mention her genitals? She didn’t understand why all the good men say that women are the stronger gender in the world. She also wondered why exactly those men were her best friends and not her lovers.
On that particular autumn evening she was thinking about her previous two lovers from the past. That was so long ago, it felt like it had never happened, as if she was still a virgin. Both had caused blood parties; makes you wonder how often you can be a virgin in your life?
In Germany they say “alle gute Dinge sind 3” – basically meaning, keep trying and the third time things will work out fine. For her that was a matter of luck, but she was dreading it anyway.
Ellen couldn’t remember what happened to that boy from the night before. He was gone when she woke up. What happened? The bed felt cold. She felt paralyzed. Sounds of the universe was still running in the background on repeat.
The truth is: There has never been a third. The strawberry kiss is only imaginary. I’m just staring at my shoes.
Mittwoch, 29. September 2010
Dienstag, 28. September 2010
Tunnel vision + Part II
September 14th 2010
It’s hard to enable my head to think of any further solutions, conclusions and suggestions. Whenever I look straight at someone they seem to shrink into a tunnel vision, as if I am in the middle of a panic attack. Dyspnea, nausea and sore muscles – thinking about everybody although I’d rather have each single one gone. Sometimes I wonder why hand out so much generosity, effort and loveliness, even though I know exactly what I’d rather spread. I don’t feel good after treating someone nicely and neither do I after mistreating someone. It’s all about my stupid philosophy: Treat each one the way they deserved to be treated. Though, very often I am kind although I shouldn’t be. It’s all out of control now. There is a huge problem I don’t know how to deal with, which is: I always keep my word. It’s not that I ever want to make a promise, but those promises just pop out of my mouth accidentally, because I don’t know what else to say or what else to do, because I hate awkward silence towards the end of a conversation and this is where I would end up saying unwillingly “Let’s have Chinese before I head off” or “Maybe we can have another coffee before I go…” AND I DON’T WANT ANY OF THESE. Why would I make promises if I knew I was going to suffer for them? Panic attack, because I’m on the verge of going crazy and because I can’t hold my breath any longer. It’s not that I’m really crazy; I’m only getting uncontrollably impatient with demonstrating my irrationality, abstractness and monstrosity. Why is it that we never know each other perfectly? There is a very simple answer to this. People think what they are and what they feel is worthless and not worth talking about; if it’s self pity then of course not. They think by keeping everything to themselves, makes them more mysterious, but it doesn’t, if you never open up.
Though I don’t always keep my word, I preview the person’s aura and I would start classing his or her veracity and truthfulness. Some don’t care and pretend they care.
---
September 28 2010, Part II – Emptying bowel
It’s been five days now and that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach has finally gone. As I said I had no expectations. Once you have experienced your ups and downs, it’s difficult to feel excited about changes in your life. Most importantly, you know you need these changes in order to get on with your life. So if you enter a new world with no expectations and no proper excitement, you end up feeling slightly scared and insecure about what is going to crash upon your head. I felt nauseated and there was this tunnel vision again decreasing my eyesight and perception; my entire body strength had gone. All I had to do when checking my circulation was to lift my hands and see whether I was trembling. The nasty iron fist of disillusionment had been trying to knock me unconscious again. Two weeks ago I was wondering where I was and what the hell I was doing. I had no idea who those people around me were or whether I really knew them, not to mention me. Is this really my mind and body? If so why do I constantly see a different girl in the mirror staring back at me? How much I hate to admit, the past three years felt like I’ve been comatose and I’ve only just opened my eyes again. During that coma I was collecting pieces from the past; my own rubbish that had polluted my perception. I recycled them, hoping that they would stink a little less. The only things I couldn’t recycle were my anger and self-loathing. The moment I opened my eyes I knew. Self-awareness, wakefulness and polluted perception. The woman in the mirror is a 26 year old student whose job is to clean up some mess, but she has not a damn clue how.
Now that I have my own room and space, I hope I can finally be the one that I am and always have been ever since the cut of the umbilical cord. Light blue.
It’s hard to enable my head to think of any further solutions, conclusions and suggestions. Whenever I look straight at someone they seem to shrink into a tunnel vision, as if I am in the middle of a panic attack. Dyspnea, nausea and sore muscles – thinking about everybody although I’d rather have each single one gone. Sometimes I wonder why hand out so much generosity, effort and loveliness, even though I know exactly what I’d rather spread. I don’t feel good after treating someone nicely and neither do I after mistreating someone. It’s all about my stupid philosophy: Treat each one the way they deserved to be treated. Though, very often I am kind although I shouldn’t be. It’s all out of control now. There is a huge problem I don’t know how to deal with, which is: I always keep my word. It’s not that I ever want to make a promise, but those promises just pop out of my mouth accidentally, because I don’t know what else to say or what else to do, because I hate awkward silence towards the end of a conversation and this is where I would end up saying unwillingly “Let’s have Chinese before I head off” or “Maybe we can have another coffee before I go…” AND I DON’T WANT ANY OF THESE. Why would I make promises if I knew I was going to suffer for them? Panic attack, because I’m on the verge of going crazy and because I can’t hold my breath any longer. It’s not that I’m really crazy; I’m only getting uncontrollably impatient with demonstrating my irrationality, abstractness and monstrosity. Why is it that we never know each other perfectly? There is a very simple answer to this. People think what they are and what they feel is worthless and not worth talking about; if it’s self pity then of course not. They think by keeping everything to themselves, makes them more mysterious, but it doesn’t, if you never open up.
Though I don’t always keep my word, I preview the person’s aura and I would start classing his or her veracity and truthfulness. Some don’t care and pretend they care.
---
September 28 2010, Part II – Emptying bowel
It’s been five days now and that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach has finally gone. As I said I had no expectations. Once you have experienced your ups and downs, it’s difficult to feel excited about changes in your life. Most importantly, you know you need these changes in order to get on with your life. So if you enter a new world with no expectations and no proper excitement, you end up feeling slightly scared and insecure about what is going to crash upon your head. I felt nauseated and there was this tunnel vision again decreasing my eyesight and perception; my entire body strength had gone. All I had to do when checking my circulation was to lift my hands and see whether I was trembling. The nasty iron fist of disillusionment had been trying to knock me unconscious again. Two weeks ago I was wondering where I was and what the hell I was doing. I had no idea who those people around me were or whether I really knew them, not to mention me. Is this really my mind and body? If so why do I constantly see a different girl in the mirror staring back at me? How much I hate to admit, the past three years felt like I’ve been comatose and I’ve only just opened my eyes again. During that coma I was collecting pieces from the past; my own rubbish that had polluted my perception. I recycled them, hoping that they would stink a little less. The only things I couldn’t recycle were my anger and self-loathing. The moment I opened my eyes I knew. Self-awareness, wakefulness and polluted perception. The woman in the mirror is a 26 year old student whose job is to clean up some mess, but she has not a damn clue how.
Now that I have my own room and space, I hope I can finally be the one that I am and always have been ever since the cut of the umbilical cord. Light blue.
Sonntag, 5. September 2010
Vertigo
It has been a summer of mutant ladybirds – friends who have transformed; a summer of hundreds of snails attempting to cross the pathway – friends needing you to guide. And sometimes instead of guiding, you grab them and just take them from A to B, just to have it done with. Of course it’s wrong, because they still have no clue where they are at. Hardly anyone does. You draw all possible sorts of maps, leave crumbs before you enter the labyrinth yourself and they wouldn’t do a thing. I don’t want to do this anymore.
I hate feet, but there are days where I would sit there, put my feet on my desk and stare at my toes for a while. I wouldn’t talk to them like Uma Thurman, I would just observe them and imagine they are people, like school kids standing outside in the schoolyard. The only interesting things about my feet are my big toes, as both are non-conformists, and this ultimately makes me feel proud. There is a big gap between each of my big toe and the little toes, as if the little toes are a group of soldiers about to shoot that outsider of a big toe. Once I was told that the big gap means you’re a loner, an outsider that not only soldiers would shoot at. And if your toes are all happily close to each other (including the big toe), you are a clingy bastard. This is the only think I notice when looking at other people’s feet. Earlobes are interesting, too, you know.
Lately I’ve noticed how much of my life energy work seems to rob. Every time I leave work, I feel how it has sucked me dry, leaving me a bull’s head ache and the need of throwing up, as if I hadn’t breathed for an entire day. Then I start to feel dizzy at the cinema, dizzy whilst reading on a vehicle and dizzy in a badly aired room. Imagine someone has put you on a boat, the water isn’t still and never will be and you find it hard to stand on both feet, to keep your eyes open, especially for a whole day, but you still need to focus on everything around you. The only thing you look forward to is the day where you can jog, do your sit-ups and pushups. On days like these I’m fine – very fine. And currently days like these occur only once a week.
This state of vertigo… I am only waiting to throw up on your feet, have a good laugh at you whilst you stare at me like I’m crazy. I am not, I’m just sad that I cannot be an astronaut.
I am not scared of heights; it’s motion sickness. My eyes have changed; they seem weaker than ten years ago. Lately whatever my eyes transport to my brain makes me feel nauseated. I do sports. I sleep with window open. I read without any problem. So is it my circulation, my heart of simply exhaustion?
Vertigo, no I’m not scared of heights, at least I think so. I want to climb mountains and stand on the roof top. It’s just motion sickness. Too many pictures, too many movements – or are my eyes low-functioning?
Tired and hating everything about you. I don’t know why I still present gratitude despite of everything I blame you for and accuse you of, as if I really care what you think. Maybe there are too many good people around and I always give you what you deserve, no matter how difficult or arduous it might be.
Fuck you good will.
I hate feet, but there are days where I would sit there, put my feet on my desk and stare at my toes for a while. I wouldn’t talk to them like Uma Thurman, I would just observe them and imagine they are people, like school kids standing outside in the schoolyard. The only interesting things about my feet are my big toes, as both are non-conformists, and this ultimately makes me feel proud. There is a big gap between each of my big toe and the little toes, as if the little toes are a group of soldiers about to shoot that outsider of a big toe. Once I was told that the big gap means you’re a loner, an outsider that not only soldiers would shoot at. And if your toes are all happily close to each other (including the big toe), you are a clingy bastard. This is the only think I notice when looking at other people’s feet. Earlobes are interesting, too, you know.
Lately I’ve noticed how much of my life energy work seems to rob. Every time I leave work, I feel how it has sucked me dry, leaving me a bull’s head ache and the need of throwing up, as if I hadn’t breathed for an entire day. Then I start to feel dizzy at the cinema, dizzy whilst reading on a vehicle and dizzy in a badly aired room. Imagine someone has put you on a boat, the water isn’t still and never will be and you find it hard to stand on both feet, to keep your eyes open, especially for a whole day, but you still need to focus on everything around you. The only thing you look forward to is the day where you can jog, do your sit-ups and pushups. On days like these I’m fine – very fine. And currently days like these occur only once a week.
This state of vertigo… I am only waiting to throw up on your feet, have a good laugh at you whilst you stare at me like I’m crazy. I am not, I’m just sad that I cannot be an astronaut.
I am not scared of heights; it’s motion sickness. My eyes have changed; they seem weaker than ten years ago. Lately whatever my eyes transport to my brain makes me feel nauseated. I do sports. I sleep with window open. I read without any problem. So is it my circulation, my heart of simply exhaustion?
Vertigo, no I’m not scared of heights, at least I think so. I want to climb mountains and stand on the roof top. It’s just motion sickness. Too many pictures, too many movements – or are my eyes low-functioning?
Tired and hating everything about you. I don’t know why I still present gratitude despite of everything I blame you for and accuse you of, as if I really care what you think. Maybe there are too many good people around and I always give you what you deserve, no matter how difficult or arduous it might be.
Fuck you good will.
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