I wanted to write something but I forgot what it was.
Am I too motivated, it is wrong, am I not motivated it is wrong, am I doing my work, it is wrong. Am I doing what I love, it might be wrong. Maybe I should face it, I made myself to be wrong. I you go into the world, you have to learn to be wrong and I went all in. So if just writing here isn’t enough and it isn’t. Then what is it for? Is it for you? While laying in my bed, I thought, this feels like a music plate getting slower, while it also plays backwards at the same time. It moves forward, while it also plays backwards and it gets slower while moving forward. And then it maybe stops or breaks or both at some point.
I know my words have meaning, I know they have no meaning.
I know people love and people don’t.
I know that there is always a reason to stay, while I also have one to just go.
I know, I know. I know too much and yet so little.
If I wouldn’t know so much, life would be easier, at least for me.
I am sitting here, knowing I could change the world and then maybe not even a small thing. I know I could do this or that, I know. So please don’t tell me, don’t say “you are young, all is possible”, don’t say “You are a good guy”. Don’t tell me that I need help, I know. Don’t tell me that everything is fine, I know. Don’t tell me what to do, it won’t work for me and then I know sometimes you have to listen. But only if you feel love in it, right?
What do I know… when I can’t do much, while I can. What do I know…
I am the worst motivation and the worst depression, while I am just fine and then I am not. I know. I can change it all, but then I might just end up selling shit. Might just live on the streets until I die or someone beats me to death. I know… I know there is always something, but how should I deserve it, when I don’t do what is necessary, when others have to do it for me? No I know, I don’t have to do everything alone. I even don’t want to, but if it hurts others, why should I want it? I know it man… and yet I talk like a child, act like a child, while I know it all. The good and the bad, what I could do, should do, what helps. I know it all, but still I am like a child from outside, while inside I feel like a girl, like an old man, a woman, a childish boy, a deer, a tree, all sorrows of the world, just me – whole and happy, my soul.
I have just 5 minutes left of “The End of the F***ing World” and I should search for other words than masterpiece because it gets old, while for me it is still true. But maybe only in the context of it all, of me, of this, of everything I experience(d).
I already wrote about it and thought about it, but I guess all I might do, would be show them my idea. Because I don’t think I would be able to work for them. Even though I would love to, I just can’t.
I hope they do well and really succeed in their mission, the same mission. And I would love to cooperate with them, but then I probably can’t work in the way needed or just break it with my own problems. Therapy won’t help me, meaning talking to someone because I already do this, I am writing, making music and listening to music and all. This is therapy, but if I would go whereever and do whatever like this, I would probably not really do it all, do it right and break down again. I would love to do what is within my power, but then I might be last, might be not the right one at all. I always feel like the last in all of it, the last to awake, the last to feel, the last to find out about life and the last who wants to help. Meaning, that I always want to do thing, just to find out, they are already done or already in planning and that there is already enough out there, so mine wouldn’t be needed anymore. And often it is good, when I am talking about good things. But for me it isn’t. And should I be first for once or at least just in the middle of something good, I would probably not notice it at all, until it is gone again because I would just think, well there they come again to make another round. Being three rounds behind, maybe four. So yeah, don’t be to hard to yourself, right? And then, don’t think you are special, so we are all here, while we all could just go. Still I drive, but getting slower. Why should I care, it doesn’t matter anyways. I hurt people who believe in me, I hurt people who care for me and I let people down who might need me. So why should I move faster, while I could just stop the car and leave the race?
A good ending, a good series – the end of the f***ing world.
When they say, live your dream and you tell them yours and then they say, well something realistic, then I guess dreaming is nothing for me.
I am starting the series Ragnarök now.
Looks promising to me. And I never really read descriptions, because most of the time, they don’t tell what is important for me and sometimes even made me think I won’t like a movie or series, while it was perfect for me, when I watched it anyways. It is strange, but sometimes I just know something is good or not and sometimes I just watch something and get suprised and I mean I think there is not much, which wasn’t good for me or interesting in the last time. Either I am just getting dumber or I actually just find all the good things. Who knows… I am probably just trying to escape.
Weird… he has glasses, but sees better without them. I just stopped using mine for some days now. And I didn’t know that before I started the series.
And of course, the glasses were just in the way because in the dark they are pointless and only blocked my vision when my hot breath met the cold winter air. Still pretty interesting. I just knew, that it was about a normal guy who got in touch with nordic magic, but well I just started and again, I am all in so far. Where are these things coming from? Maybe it really is what I believe, but as I said: “It isn’t realistic.” Or is it? I mean, what do we really know? We only think we know or tell we do, so the system works, but then for whom? For me it clearly isn’t working and I guess for you it also could work better. The system only works through the trust people put into it, as with everything else. I believe if enough people really believe in something, no matter what, it becomes reality. But real believe, not just “well maybe it works, but probably not” believe… like most people, me included for a long time. “It isn’t realistic.” … Tell me more…
Now he even doesn’t do sports, but can walk for miles, as if it was nothing.
Is this just me, or is it getting pretty weird?
At least my vision isn’t better without my glasses, at least not now. But it is as good as with the glasses, so that I even forgot that I wasn’t wearing it sometimes. We will, see how it develops. If it gets pretty bad within a short time, without glasses I know it is nothing or I am not ready yet. And then there is this about the light (probably candle fire) I wrote about. While I was standing there watching it, I had this strange view. I sometimes just saw black, then it was brighter and it was like a tunnel or a force. Probably just my own feelings going nuts because of candle night at 4 AM in front of a dark forest. But well, who knows.
The first episode already made me almost cry at least two times.
I want to be in there. Why can’t I be in there and help? Is it real somehow?
Is it the way I believe, the story behind the story? That each writer who writes openly and with love, that they write, what is true, even when they think it is just a hope? All souls, all minds, all stories of old, all are connected, all share things, but not everything is good.
If you can believe in the devil, you can believe in God or in something greater than us all, so to say.