If you should ask yourself, how does he make music, why does he write, how does he write? Or maybe you just think I am broken loser, who can’t do shit (well that is my brains perspective).
I just do it somehow. Not always for a specific reason, sometimes I don’t even know what I do, it just happens and I am a part of it while it happens.
But when I write or make the music it is a good feeling, it makes me feel somewhat complete. And therefor it must be good. But if someone wants to know about how I do it, I can’t say. So please don’t ask, or I will go away.
I think too much, so I can’t say what is real and what is a thought. So when I say, I do it because of this, it might just be a thought or reaction on what someone else could think about me or expect, but in reality is far from what actually was the reason. And I still don’t think, that there is much value in what I do, is it music, writing or something else. So because I think it has no value, it may has no value. “You become what you believe.” And I still believe I am a loser, I still believe I will break everything in the end, so I will. Not because I want to be this way, but because I can’t believe in myself in a positive way, when there are other people in my life.
For myself I could believe because I wouldn’t have anything to hold me back. But for others I can’t because I will always think from their perspective and feel what they might feel. So I will never be free, when I can’t know for sure whether I think what I want, what others want or something like God or a higher force is telling me what is right or wrong.
So I will just stay broken because that is something I know enough about and others now know enough to accept it. It is easier to accept someone is broken, than that he has dreams which don’t include the current environment.
My biggest enemy is my brain and therefor I myself. I know this. But others don’t seem to understtand. The world is strange on its own, but if you can’t trust yourself with basically anything, how should you live a life? That is why I wanted to die in the first place.
I am someone who will always say: “It was my fault.”, “You know it better I suppose” or “If you know better, than do it yourself.”
But each time I said something different, I either was really wrong or something bad happened. So my curse is to not trust in myself because each time I think I know something for sure, it was wrong. Maybe it was not completely wrong, maybe it wasn’t at all, but they didn’t understand or I didn’t understand them. So in the end, when I am quiet it is best for all.
I can create my own world in my head, no one else gets hurt, more than already. But this will of course result in me getting more and more crazy and in the end really just live in my own world, somewhere only hell could give me hope. (Yes hell, not heaven because a so called hell would be a place I could at least accept, that there is no hope.)
Diagnoses: Maniac, depressed, bipolar, lazy, illusional, social anxiety, <enter problem>, etc.
Possible Repairs: self-destruction, leaving everyone to live alone on the street, <option c>?, …. and so on … , suicide?
Rank: village fool
Well this all doesn’t look to good, but this is what my brain spills out when I run the self diagnostics. So should I just take it as proofed and believe what the brain says? What others may think?
I could do that and always did in the past, although sometimes I just was selfish, even though I didn’t actually wanted to be or was. So I am not sure what I was, but I never felt good in a way I could say, I feel good.
After my first “real” suicide attempt, which got stopped by myself, but went farther than any attempt before, I finally saw something positive.
But the brain wants to convince me, that it all just was some kind of post traumatic illusion and behavior. So that nothing really was how I felt it because I almost killed myself. Who am I going to trust? I can’t trust the brain because I do trust it, I will die anyways, but not a good death.
The best person I ever had in my life the whole time and who still is with me, recently said “Why do all good people get broken?” or at least something like that. And partially I might already explained why this might be the case for some. Of course you can say it is the biology, the brain. But then in the end the soul and the brain are connected and if you don’t feel good inside no matter what healthy food you eat, what sports you do and so on, you will probably get a sickness at some point, maybe cancer. Why? Because the feelings are more powerful than we think. Sometimes a feeling gets created by a chemical, but sometimes it is created by something else. In a scientific way, there always must be a logical explaination and of course a cure of some sort. Otherwise people would say, what do they do all day. But even though some of it might be right or help, often something is missing. We always want to have things clear, planable, calculateable and so on, but when do we let room for trust and believe?
So if the consequence of life is death, living is just possible if you want to die anyways. What is life anyways? Is it the willing to die? Maybe, but only if the willing to die is because of the death already in life. A life should be difficult as a challenge, so it is not easy, but is interesting to explore and fight for. But then most of the time we just go into the grave before we really lived. Not because we don’t do what one normally does, but because we don’t really do anything with love. One might do it with love or just because, but just do it because we have to.
As a human being, which knows too much for one brain to handle (of course not too much in a physical or mental way, but too much to just say, it is this way or like this), I can’t do what I know because I know too much? Does this make sense, I doubt it. Because I can’t believe myself, that I really know too much. It is as if I were two in one body. The one who knows all and the one who doesn’t listen and know at all. Guess who is interacting with the world most of the time? Not the one who knows. The other one of course. He might talk like me, might think he knows, but in the end he is just a little dumb childish fool. And when he knows, he is down. While on the other hand there is the me who knows it all, but can’t really do anything with it, not because I don’t understand, but because I can’t let it out most of the time.
Leaving me as a fool who doesn’t trust himself and just breaks everything apart, while inside everything seems easy and just ready to do it all right.
A tragic paradox life and life form. Something which isn’t supposed to walk among the ones who not just know inside, but do what they believe, will it be good or bad. The one who is not sure, is me. The one who has a cool and creative life on one hand and suicide and a dead hope on the other one.
So as an imposter, I am an imposter to the ones who feel like imposters because I am just a fool who thought it be a genius, while the genius I might be, feels like a fool and the end is just a human being, no one can really trust, no one can take for granted and no one can believe something solid could ever be made by it. No one? Well over all itself, me and the imposter. The one I am, most of the time was. The imposter-imposter, the one who never was, what he thought because he didn’t know and know, never felt and felt, never thought and thought, while he wanted to live and die, once and for all. The imposter I am. More than I ever wanted. The imposter I was, nothing at all. So am I a crazy, all seems like I am. Am I just broken, sure all goes this way. Am I normal, no never I am. But in the end I am and all was a dream. All just an illusion and I never was what I was. The imposter as imposter of a dreamer of a lost one. Only the lost will know, the found may even, but not the ones who think they know. They never know, if they don’t get lost at least once. Lost in spaces between brackets and words.
A meaning of truth, while all hate is illusion, all rage just a wall and the pain like a mall, ready to be bought by the wise one, the thought of betrayal of myself from myself for myself and ever all. The never, the ever, the big stony hall. No one knows inside of me, all know what’s inside of me, but maybe I just think they know, they just think they know, but no one really knows. All just thoughts, speculation, a possibility. Imagination and words. The path to illumination, go the other way, or maybe just follow me? But please don’t, it is not your path I am walking. Go your own way and maybe we meet again, maybe never. Don’t follow my path because you think it is wrong, because you think it is right. Do it because you know it or you don’t. And then you might fall. Even I falls, so why should you stand, when I can’t?
Go your way, I am falling mine. Maybe some day the side of me which knows can explain to me, what I did wrong. But I already know, do I? Who knows these days… Nothing is solid.
Good people get broken, if they can’t really stand up for themselves.
Good people get broken because others don’t understand.
Good people get broken because they feel lost.
Good people get broken because they understand what others don’t seem to notice.
Good people feel sick because everything is how they feel.
What is a “good person”? Is it you, is it me?
Well more you than me. You read this, so you take your time to read what I am writing. You may want to help or just understand. So you are probably better than me, if you aren’t just someone who wants to critise me or write something bad about me, say something bad.
From my actions I am not a good person. From my feelings I am not a good person. From my broken brain, I could excuse myself for being broken, but then I wouldn’t be a good person. So am I good at all? I am not talking about a worth, I sure have a worth, a reason to live. But is it really what I think it is? Is it really for something good? Or am I just lying to myself again because all I want is to be alone and do what I want without the need to do something I don’t want? So I am not better than my enemies. Therefor I am my own enemy, therefor I can’t live with myself. But I shall love my enemy? What do I do? I kill us both… I love us both? How? I know how, but why? I know why. And when? Well I should say right now, but then what? Love. And after all how again? It is easy, when I don’t think about it. But then I do because I have to do something to have what I have. So I might choose wrong again. Can’t I just let go and trust? And if the trust was not given back, I just go anyways? No, it doesn’t work… Does it work? Just questioning myself over and over again. Not a clear statement, not a real me. Just a question, unanswered while there was always the answer right next to me. Paradox, a paradox being.
I always didn’t want to make something because I feared to get problems for many reasons. And well, now it is different? Hmm. I guess it is difficult.
I played some hours of Warframe tonight, finished some quests and I feel good. But on the other hand all the motivation I get in the game, to beat the game, seems not to reach out into the game of life. But it should because it is made for it as well.
A game of life is not just a game for fun, but a challenge for sure.
It should be interesting, breath taking and having something new to explore and investigate every couple of days. But instead it feels like a game to play is all we get. Maybe a good series on Netflix, a great book or just some minutes of fresh music. All of it should still exist, but help us face the life’s challenge(s). And still I am procrastinating? Or just questioning a lot, while I actually have the answers. Like having all the answers for a test, but still failing it. How is this even possible? Paradox, after all.
“Less talking, more raiding” they said. Well, I think I should have listened.
Although I don’t want to actually “raid” something.