If I would or could put all the power I have into positive things, I would be flying to jupiter right now. But instead I created a hell for myself and others.
Maybe I am more of the devil than god after all. I had all and I just gave it away, to break, to be a problem and to make others see me as problem. So that they can all hate me until the hate is perfect until I could be gone or here, it wouldn’t matter anymore. But no, people still care way too much for me because they don’t understand what is with and in my head. And that I would want to live a life, even would work hard, if I would know that it would be for a reason and without much stress. Maybe it is too late for myself to hold it. But then, why did I achieve feeling alive after all? Probably just a side effect of not pushing through my suicide attempt. Like the feeling you get, when the roaller coaster went down or something like that, but you survived.
I guess I can only fight alone or not at all. If I could risk everything because it would only risk my own image and life, that I could probably change worlds. But sadly there are other people, family. And I can’t just say, go away because my mother did so much for me and suffered because of me.
So saying she should go, would be like the worst thing to do because she did what she could to help me, but well it wasn’t what I needed, it wasn’t all.
I am thankful, but on the other hand, it only made myself feel worse.
So for my father there is nothing. He is just a hollow most of the time, so why should I feel sorry, I didn’t made him this way, he made me be more his way.
It is not about knowing. As I said, I know too much for me to handle. Maybe I could handle it, but with my broken mind, I am not able to. Only when I am in this calm state of mind, when my soul is on to the fullest, when my heart is happy, when I am in the forest for example.
It is not that I don’t know things, it is that I can’t believe most of them because of what happened and what I did. I don’t want to create an excuse for my bad behaviour, I don’t want to create a hope out of lies or broken thoughts. When I am depressed like this, I still know what a suicide would cause. I always know it. But what is better? One who went out of life or one who lived a life in which others had to suffer for decades because of the staying alive paradoxon? If life means being able to die for it, I sure want to die for it. I could also wait some more years for it, sure, but if the only thing I would create is more misery for me and the people around me and there wouldn’t be life in the end, why should I stay, tell me?
And I know, that out of misery there can’t be much positive, while one can rise from misery by will, I can’t because I don’t know whether I can trust my will. Will it be evil or good, is it even a good idea in the first place, am I really able to do what I want, what do I really want? Is this all a joke to me?
Every word I write and say, only makes it more complicated, more strange, more of a problem after all. I should better not write anything at all.
But now I can’t stop… now that I once really started, I probably can’t stop and if then forever, maybe.
If I could only just live without any problems right now, I would be happy, I could be happy. I could think positive about the things to do. But the things just don’t stop. Problems after problems… why can’t things just work for once? Just go away? But they never did. When I was a kid I knew why I didn’t want to grow up, I had seen how it will be. I forgot about it, I thought, probably I was wrong, but I knew what would happen. I just knew why I didn’t want to grow up, the pain which would come.
Life is easy, if you know that there is nothing to worry about, but then I could also just die, right? Why not? Because I have to stay alive, and then what? Life is easy, for those who want it to be easy and I am one I naturally felt life as a kid, real life, love and happiness, I felt it, lived it. And then people told me, life ain’t that easy kid. What now? Easy, difficult, a lie, possible, impossible, the truth? What now? Are we all just fullfilling a gigantic mathematical calculation to prove that everything is possible and impossible, so that everything was 1 and 0 or just something in between?
So that everything is and was and will be, have been and all again? Probably… but then, for what reason am I alive? To just play the game? I don’t want to play the game. I just want to quit the game. And then maybe I will just respawn and I will have to level up again, only to come to the same conclusion, that I don’t want to play this game. So why should I even be alive then? Am I the game changer, the game breaker or just another puppet on the board? Probably altogether, while I feel like shit and like a powerful creature sometimes even at the same time.
The problem is, that now that I collected all this data, people will think, that I am writing because of it or think the way I do, because of this. But no, it wasn’t it. I thought about so many things before I even had access to it all, but I just blocked most of it because I had nothing to rely on, to prove that I am not alone because I was alone with my thoughts for far too long.
But I have a talent to make everything seem as if I am just telling what others told me. I have a talent to be seen as stupid, while I wasn’t. I have a talent to make other believe that I am happy when I am not and then when I am, sometimes not even I know. I have a talent to seem like a liar, to seem like one who plays a game. I am probably the worst player of it, but my poker face is like a legendary. And then… all is just a broken soul. For what, for whom? Just to be broken. I know that I can do cool things, that I have positive talents, but who cares. I only have you my fellow reader, but not even you can make me feel good about them.
My talents feel like scam, the bad ones, the good ones. All just scam. As if it only works for a minute, or not at all. But I know this is not the case, but still it feels this way. I can’t say that my music is always good and most of it is probably just not interesting or good at all. But there are some pieces I personally like. And I could just say, all my music is good as it is, but that would also be wrong because I don’t like it all and I also can’t know whether it is good or not. Otherwise I would have the power to see into other people’s minds.
I am not alone. But I would like to be alone. I would like to be living the way I would want to, but then how would that be? The way I did when I was a kid. I am slowly trying to get there again, but it is hard, almost impossible.
And then I would want to be with other people, but people who just aren’t normal, but also not just evil inside. Broken souls, happy souls, open minds, love and fear. Together it would be easier I bet. But alone, it is not working.
Therefor I am alone, I know that, but still I am not really alone as a human. Just inside, even with one soul which seems to understand, even with tousands of souls which seem to understand. Maybe I still think differently from them, maybe I still am not the way I could be a part of it. I am not a lone wolf. When I was a kid, I was a lone angel, a bird, a butterfly maybe. But I wasn’t a wolf. Then I turned into a tiger, but I am also not a real tiger. I am a white tiger at best, dying out if not already. A kind big white tiger, a saviour, a warrior, a kind angel. But then I just jump around, bite everyone, shout at everyone and go back into my cave. What a kind tiger…
I probably just want to stay broken because it is nearer to death than to being alive. But when I am calm, free and connected with everything I just live in the moment. Nothing matters because I am there, with everything.
So I should go for this, instead of broken. Sure, but how should I know, that it is not just part of the broken in the end? Not yet, of course. But when the infested part spreads to the sealed part? Now that it isn’t sealed anymore, now that it is open, not locked in anymore. Maybe it will get broken like the rest, so that I won’t notice the difference anymore, between alive and dead.
To this day I can still tell the difference for myself, but for how long?
“And in the end, I am just like everybody else.” –