Damage prevention, how to be (in)sane(?)

I don’t know, I have a problem with titles sometimes. 🙂

I usually just start writing and then something happens. If I have to write something specific, I just can’t do it most of the time because I overthink it.

This goes for most things in my life, if there are other people involved because I just gave up on myself when I was in elementary school. Sure not completely, but the first death, you could say.

Then I died many more (inside deaths so to say). I now can say, that I most likely had some kind of complex PTSD (CPTSD) combined with a resulting depression. The cause of the problem was at the beginning my father, who usually acts in a narcissistic and fanatic religious way. I mean he had over 20 years to learn how to be normal. And yet, just recently he said again, that he wanted to be a good role model for me, so he was wearing a white shirt and tie. In german he actually used the word “Vorbild” which means role model or example. But I think that he took the word “vor” and “Bild” and so he thought looking good is all because “vor” means something like “in front of” or “before” and “Bild” just means image. So an “image in front” or in other words, a facade.

That is basically all he ever was and is to this day.

I am writing this because my day got ruined just because I have seen him again for some seconds today. Just seeing this “image” is enough. He also is human, he also has a heart, but when it was “me and my mother” or “his plans”, he usually just did what he wanted. He couldn’t work anymore, he stopped working (since I was 3 years old he didn’t work and I am 22 now). My mother had to work. And each time when he enters the room, I just feel terror, cold, electricity building up inside of me, but usually I just bottled it all up. Bad mistake because sometimes it came out like a monster. And yes, there were many monsters in my head. Some might still hide in the shadows. Basically unprocessed, unhealed wounds and traumatic events.

One year of writing actually helped me sorting most of my thoughts, my behavior, my feelings and all. I even started to feel good things again. Usually I just felt overwhelming fear, almost all the time when I wasn’t in my safe zone (usually playing computer games, programming or watching some movies and videos). But a year ago that also didn’t work anymore because the pressure at work combined with all these unprocessed emotions, feelings and memories etc. took over.

I have to write this to strengthen me again because yesterday me and my mother finally drove away for one night to some relatives. My mind literally went from “I am all alone, I just imagine all of this because I am insane” to “there is some much I can do, there are so many people who like me”. Because I know that you for example (you reading), probably care about me or at least you like some of the things I write. I know that, at least from the likes and some comments. And in the past I usually didn’t want attention and also now it feels as if I am tricking you or faking things. As if I do this to become famous or something. But actually this is because of the problems I still have to heal. I say heal because in my case it was never about “You have to do something”. I always wanted to do things, but either wasn’t allowed or passively blocked from them. One problem feeds the next, or something… My father broke my mother and my mother was exhausted, so she also couldn’t really find positive words. She didn’t and still doesn’t see hope, so I also had no hope. It is complicated… it really is way more complicated and for those who read my over 80 days “journal” or what it is, know that.

My mother wasn’t the problem, I wasn’t the problem, but my father was the problem. He had one job to do and he failed: Love. Because he didn’t work (he also had a lot of problems as a kid), didn’t do much other productive stuff, just talking about problems. Sure he sometimes cuts the grass, but I mean he is over 60 years old now and can’t solve his own problems (or so most people think).

The thing is, that he always acts stupid, helpless and as if he couldn’t do any bad, but in private he sometimes really seemed like a demon or evil monster. He still has feelings, I know that and he has a soul. I know that he can also feel, but still it is not my problem.

He broke my mother and and I got broken as well.

We are all broken in our family.

But my father is actually the problem. And I should add, that we actually got out when I was 10, but the connection never broke down because his “power” was too strong. I mean he even manipulated the neighbors and other people.

Just one example: I didn’t want to go to church at one point and my mother also didn’t want to, but still went sometimes (when we already were not living with my dad). When we both stopped going for some time, my father got some preachers manipulated (maybe he even thought he was right, I don’t know). Because when some time later my mother went alone to the church (or at least went there at some point later), someone told her that they prayed many times for that. Meaning, probably the whole church prayed that my mother (and maybe me) would come to church again. The “best” part is, that this church actually wasn’t that bad. I liked to go there as a kid. Sure, now I probably also wouldn’t want to go there for other reasons, but the church (in that case) wasn’t the problem at all. And I should also add, that my father went to several religious assemblies. All somewhat evangelic, but still different. I don’t want to go too deep into that right now. The problem is, that the people praying probably believed that we must be some kind of non-believers or that we were in some way fallen from the path. Because my father probably told them stories, just to support his needs and wishes. So they didn’t know that we were actually not coming because of him. (I probably already wrote some of this, it is just that this so literally goddamn broken fanatic religious bullshit together with my father is SO MUCH NONSENSE.

I mean since elementary school my deepest wish was to get killed or just to die because of a sickness or something. But nothing happened. I tortured myself inside my head and my body because my brain was not capable of handling an unsolvable ever wrong situation. I wasn’t allowed to play many times, wasn’t allowed to listen to music, to clean, to feed the cat because I once spilled some milk. From his eyes that sure wasn’t always “you are not allowed” words, but inside of me his actions and words were resulting in that. And he actually were saying things like “the color of wood could be harmed if you play with the toy cars”. I mean… okay… the wood is clearly more important than a kid. And it is no excuse that he maybe got treated the same way. NO EXCUSE.

I got taught how to pretend, how to hide, how to trick and how to do things in secret because my existence was like the role of a doll, but I couldn’t play the role. Thinking about that, maybe I was scared of dolls because of that. Who knows… (we had a lot of dolls in the house of my father, some from my mother and some from his mother, just creepy for me).

So for so, so many reasons I don’t want to see my father. But hey, “luck” was on my side (actually the fact that I gave up on myself as a kid) and so my grandfather (who was always nice to me), wrote his house onto me. He died when I was 16 and guess where the house was… exactly, next to my fathers house. And guess what again… I am sitting right inside of it, writing all this.

“Normal” people (I actually don’t like this word), or people who think clearly and have a healthy amount of self-esteem and in general are healthy, would see all of this different, I suppose.

I mean, I could have sold the house, go somewhere else and be happy, finally. But yeah, I mean my master plan was to die or actually to not exist – escaping reality and trying to die as fast as possible.

So when my grandfather died and the house actually wasn’t mine because I wasn’t 18 (in Germany you are an adult, in case it should be different in your country). This meant, that I had to have someone to look after the house and do the management until I am the actual owner. All in my will of course and for my best. Long story short, it was my father. Yay… :-/

I mean, usually people defend themselves, but my life taught me that no matter what I do, I fail. So defending (in my mind) would just lead to more trouble (trust me, it usually did in my case). I know that normally this helps and is the way, but I guess you haven’t lived my life. (And I know that this might sound very selfish, I know… please don’t read it this way. I know what happens to women in other countries, I know what happens to children in some countries or religions, I know all that. But before I had internet (I got internet some months before I turned 14), I had only my grand fathers TV to see outside of the box, some old computer games and friends (and their internet and TV). Anyways… I know that I am actually lucky because I somehow survived and after all think that it somehow was good. Not that I would want it all again, but luckily it is not necessary. (Would it be, I would say: “Please just kill me, don’t feel guilty, just do it.”)

At some point during my rewiring (finding the red wire / threat of my life again), I thought: “I actually came perfect on this earth. I was a quiet child, I wanted to help everyone, I talked with almost anyone (except people who felt strange), I was interesting in everything, I could even make breakfast with 2 years alone. Basically putting cereals, milk, plates and stuff on the table, while some of the things where in a height of 2 meters above ground. I used my baby chair to climb up there. I was creative, kind, honest and I was curious how things worked. The perfect child you could say. And I basically learned on my own, so I didn’t need advise or such things. After my mother went to work (when I was 3 years old) this slowly started to change. Slowly because I still wasn’t fully capable of realizing that the situation I was in was far from good. When I later in the “Kindergarten” (from year 3-6) got more in touch with the outside world and especially in elementary school, I realized that at least not all parents were like mine.

I was way too smart in one way, but because I had nothing to really hold onto, because nothing made sense (playing = bad, helping = bad, being angry = mad, building things = bad, watching TV = bad, music = bad, me = bad?). I mean my father once even said, that I was the problem. Little me sucked it all up and processed it, like a good boy…

I mean I still can’t really understand how I actually survived and that I am still able to somehow get logical again and behave actually good. I can only thank God, my helper soul and the fact that my brain successfully suppressed most of these things or mixed them, so that I could survive.

Looking back on my childhood, my youth in general, I was happy many times, when I was distracted. The things which harmed me most in the end, were words and also behavior related to the words.

I read a quote recently, something like: “Going crazy in a crazy world is just a normal response.” (It was different, this doesn’t sound right, is it? But something like this).

And I mean, the reason why I started to write, is the fact that I saw my father today for some seconds and heard his voice. (Yes he can access the house because he has a key, yes I could have changed the locks, but that wouldn’t have solved the problem and yes… yes I could just go away. But trust me, it isn’t… THAT easy. We tried…” Maybe this time, I can just hope and pray.

Now I thought about heaven and that the devil still has access to heaven at the moment until everything will be made new and better.

When I see my father, I of course just see my father, but from the feeling I feel, I could also see this:

He even has a similar look like the man on the right, now when I look at it closer. But what this should represent: You see this sorrow man, this victim like man, this stupid looking man, but behind the face is the monster. (Or behind it, depending on how you want to see it.) From a “normal” perspective, my father is a monster or at least a narcissist. From a religious perspective he is possessed by an evil spirit. I personally believe that it is a little trauma, a little egoistic and a little evil spirit, or something like that.

I don’t want my father to go to hell, I don’t wish anyone to go to hell, but that is not my judgement. But I can’t forgive him when he is still around. I can only forgive, when it is finally not part of my life again.

And so sure, I should just go, but then there is my mother, there are all these wounds not healed and the pressure. It is not possible to handle this because it is as if I am in a dead-lock (no escape) situation together with my mother. I know there are always ways out, but as I said, we tried, I tried, it always ended up worse. Like a game which learns from your actions only to make it harder and harder, while you get weaker and weaker. Reminds me of one episode of Stargate again. You can’t beat that game alone.

And before I forget to mention it again, I was born as a man. Just to be sure that there aren’t any misunderstandings.

But since my childhood I felt like both, I even had a very high voice that many people were talking about it. I also felt like a girl sometimes, even had dreams as if I was a girl. For myself, I just see it this way: I am a man (when it comes to the body and main hormones), I am a woman (when it comes to my soul), I am both (when it comes to my mind).

From a sexual perspective I would say, that I am a man, or a woman who likes woman, but I also got feelings for a man just a couple of years ago.

I should also add, that I never had a girl friend or any kind of intimate relationship. I mean, I loved a girl in my class when I was in elementary school and for me it was serious I guess, but it was way ahead of time to have a real girl friend. And didn’t hold long for other reasons and problems and it still haunts me that I didn’t hold onto her. But I was too broken already at that point. So I probably had a girl friend, but we were just hanging out, playing some games and having fun together.

So in my case, I also don’t know whether I want a relationship and don’t even talk about intimate relationships. In my case I would fear that my broken sexual desire (normal, but unhealthy need for sex sometimes) would actually end up in a situation I don’t want, but a still broken part of me might fascinate about.

Because of all this broken parts, many of my writings could seem paradox. Maybe not in the single form, but when put together. I really don’t know about what I wrote. I know about some things, but I forget about many things again. I know I have problems, but that is why I am working on it for good now. No “death master plan”, but an actual “how to live for real – master plan”.

I don’t take medication and I also don’t want that for several reasons. But this doesn’t mean, that it couldn’t help, it is more about fear and other problems related with medicine. All these misunderstandings, problems and fears…

I know that I can relax without medication when the environment allows me to. I just need a forest where not many people are, or if so, people who leave me alone. My laptop, or pen and paper. Maybe some music and such things. The problem is that it can’t really help, when the actual problem is not inside my head. (Pointing towards my father.)

The thing is, that from a logical perspective, the solution is clear, I already mentioned it: I just have to go away and live somewhere else.

I know that. But I also learned, that it didn’t change the problem because he would just appear there as well or call or find a way to contact us, if he can.

I sometimes fantasized about getting a new identity and living in another country, as if I would run away from some secret agency or the mafia or something. But then it usually ending with something like: “I will probably not be able to accomplish life anyways, so why putting all this work into it anyways.”

I constantly have to retell myself my life story since I now actually can remember it all (more or less). It could seem as if I am telling or writing it to make it a believable story, but no one has to believe it, I just want myself to finally realize, that I am champion, a warrior and hero.

Just writing it or telling it myself sometimes is not enough. It is like 1 million words against 100. And I know the 100 words can win and will win, but not like this. Not this broken, wounded, almost dead and hopeless. I could also write about soldiers or whatever, but it is not important. I just have to believe in myself again. And in order to believe myself again, I have to make my story as clear as possible and also my situation.

Because just through seeing my father this evening again, the whole joy and freedom of yesterday and this morning was gone. Not in this moment, but the “downer mechanism” was triggered again. And so after that I started to talk about problems again, was frustrated again, my mother got of course down again and then I was making here feeling even worse again because I couldn’t stop talking about the problems again and she couldn’t handle it, so we were both negatively charged again.

How long does it take to empty a battery? – Just a few seconds in hell, sir.

I can understand everyone. I might not be able to always tell how the person in front of me feels or thinks, but I went through it all.

So, when you ask me: “Tell me, how feels and thinks a serial murderer?” I can answer you, if you want.

Heard enough? No?


If you should ask: “Then tell me, how thinks and feels a raper?”

I can give you answer for that one as well.

But don’t forget, that it is about feeling and thinking, not about, how one actually is. I never did such horrible things, but just some months ago, I felt like this. Caused by all the unprocessed emotions, fears and other problems.

And yes… to all the other questions you might fear to ask. Really, I think I have felt and thought it all. Luckily I never did any of it, at least when it comes to an actual crime.

I know that it is dangerous for me to write about such things, even though I am in Germany. Would I live in some other countries on this earth, I probably would have been arrested a long time ago or killed.

The irony behind this, that would actually solve my problem(s). But not really, when it comes to my new “how to live for real – master plan”.

In order to live, I have to make it all public (in my case, so please don’t follow my example, if you don’t know what you are doing). But not because this is a good idea, but because it is the worst of ideas I ever had. This means, that through out my who life I just have eaten most of this up inside of me, tried to protect others from it, while it actually got worse. I developed several mental disorders or at least strange behavior and thinking patterns. And somehow, I managed to built up a perfect facade. I smiled when I actually felt pain, I lied to myself and others as if it was nothing. Usually when it was about how I feel, what I want to do in the future and such things. Because again, my plan was to die as soon as possible, but I knew I couldn’t kill myself, at least so far. (I actually was about to end my life in December, but decided against it because I couldn’t leave my cousin / best friend / wished great brother, after all he helped me. I was writing with him since a year ago.

Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to open up because talking was just not possible. I can talk, but because my talking was so wired to telling lies, so the others would think I am doing fine and also the misunderstandings when I actually wanted to tell. So writing was the starting point.

I still don’t believe that my life actually was that strange, horrible in a way and paradox. But it was my life so far. And I usually (because of the brain blocking it all away) thought when horrible life stories were told: “Man that was horrible, luckily I didn’t have to go through that.” Oh boy… how wrong I was. I mean, sure, I wasn’t raped or tortured physically and such things, but still, my soul and mind are still full of holes, wounds and all that.

At least now I have to luck, that I could puzzle most of it together, to rebuilt my life line / lifetime. There are still memories which are are not clear, but compared to a year ago, I am almost okay right now. (Still far from healthy, healed and happy or at least realistic, but at least not like: “I am sentenced to death” or “Maybe today I will kill someone for real”.

I want to live and I am fighting for my life now and I also fight for other people and their lives. But I can’t do that, if I am not sharing all of me.

And PLEASE, don’t do that yourself. Only if you really know what the consequences could be (at worst prison, no job, getting into a controlled clinic, etc.). If you don’t think about the worst first, it might be not worth it. (I don’t know… just please, first think about it, I did that many times now.)

I think besides strange dreams in which I raped women and thinking about it, the worst things which actually happened and caused trauma again on their own, are the following.

When I was probably 14 years old, I once searched for ch*** p***. But before you think, that I am a pedophile, I wasn’t aware that this was weird, illegal, wrong and of course SOO WRONG and messed up, that I have no words for this.

And I mean, how do you explain that, right?

It is not like: “Oh, when I was 14 I stole some video games from the mall.”

It is more like: “Do I want to go into prison or a clinical institution?”

Okay, but I have to explain it anyways, whether you believe me or not on why I did it.

In my brain a lot went wrong to this point. And I mean I already had seen porn at a friends house when we were still in elementary school and also in late night TV shows etc. Some people in the secondary school even had porn on their phones. I mean we are talking about children the age 9 – 12 who watch porn.

And also because in school we got told about sex and stuff in 6th grade, I think, it all got more “normal” in my head. It was like: “Everyone has sex, it is normal, children have sex.” And then the brain probably also combined “porn” with “everyone has sex” and my age. The thing is, that I on one side knew that it was wrong when adults have sex with children or older with younger. But in my head, there just wasn’t this logical wire anymore, that it was no matter wrong to watch ch*** p*** when you are a child. It was like: “I am 14, so when I searched for ‘porn 14 year old’ (I don’t know what I searched for exactly, but the age was important of course – in that thought pattern)”, I was thinking that this must be okay and normal.

And for you (those of you who were either crazy enough, brave enough or maybe just to weak to stop reading) this all must sound disgusting, perverted, horrible, a crime, sick, crazy and so on. And yes, it is all of that, it is… but what should I say? It never happened? At least I tried to explain it and also publish it, knowing, that this is like the worst what one can do.

You have to know, that I have to do this for myself because if I don’t do this, I can’t say, that I am honest, that I am free and that I am a good person. And also, it then can’t be used against me as a surprise attack. When I tell it myself, it could harm me or help me. But if I don’t tell it and someone else (who ever should know about it, you never know these days) does it, it usually would be used against me anyways and probably taken out of context. Even this could be taken out of context and used against me. But at least now I know, that it is indeed possible, so I don’t have to fear it that much anymore. Maybe seems strange, but I feared sharing this not because of what you think, but because of what it was in my head. The first time I shared this darkest parts of me, was in December, the day before I wanted to finally kill myself, after I never was able to do it before.

I was sitting there with a bottle of bath cleaner, took one sip and was confused, scared, freaking out. I never went this far. I never before was able to actually end my life. But all these things written down (shared with my trusted cousin), I thought, now I can’t take it back, now I can kill myself. I couldn’t believe that someone would accept such a thing. But he did because he knew that I actually am a good person, just so deeply broken that I didn’t recognized myself.

I luckily spit out the bath cleaner and didn’t drink it, but my mouth still was numb and I had pain in my belly and a little fever the following week. I just went to work the next day, as if nothing happened. I didn’t go to the doctor because of the long list of misunderstandings and also zero trust from my side.

So I just looked up what was in the bath cleaner and how to treated that in case of a toxic reaction (in my case probably some drops got into the blood or stomach, even though I didn’t drink it. So I just drank a lot of water and what else (if any advise) was given there.

I wrote down all my darkest, horrible secrets on Saturday, then I went to bed, had a dream in which I was about to rape half dead women and dead women lying around in a big hall. After that dream and what I wrote down the evening before this caused me to try the suicide attempt.

I never really harmed anyone, but it didn’t matter to me because for me it was clear, that I was totally nuts and a monster. And so I had to die.

Luckily, as I wrote, I didn’t do it. I drove with the car 160 km/h over the high way while it was raining heavily after that. Just somewhere, until at one point I just drove home again. After that I watched a movie on Netflix and it just felt like a message from God, that I did the right thing. That I opened up, didn’t kill myself and finally started to actually heal.

After that I started to feel good, I even went to work with a good mood. It actually lasted until January, a whole month.

But I had a long winter break and when I then, after feeling so intense and good for the first time ever or maybe just since my early childhood, the first day at work hit me hard. After one week of work, I knew I can’t do that anymore. I broke down. Was calling in sick for two weeks and luckily got exhaustion syndrome diagnosed by the doctor. I was just in my bed most of the time, not eating much, doing anything.

And I actually had to do my final exam. I tried to do it, but then I just quit my job.

The feelings were so immense, the pain, the sorrow and the pressure.

I started to write publicly about my thoughts around that time. And I totally forgot that I started to make music again since November I think.

On one side, I started to build up my actual life, what I always wanted, while on the other side, my self-therapy seemed to break me more and more. (It actually didn’t break me because I was already broken beyond good and evil.) I just knew I can’t stop now and it all developed on its on in some way. The good parts of my brain did just release all the things which shouldn’t and didn’t belong to me.

I wasn’t a monster, I am no monster, but I sometimes was near to become a monster.

This is why I can say, that I can understand everyone.

And the problem is, that my post could also be seen, as the confession of a psychopath or something, but I am not a psychopath. (“Yeah sure”, you could say.) I mean, I can totally understand if no everyone just leaves. This is the price I pay, but I have to pay it because I can’t talk about honesty, peace, love and all, when I am not honest with you. This is just how it works in my head, how it feels for me. You might say, I would never say such a thing. I can totally understand. But I know, that it would always haunt me. I can’t let go of these things, when I didn’t do what I consider as right.

And I should say, that I never again searched for ch*** p*** because I actually got in a trap and also realized what I did. Because it was a trap by some hackers which then infected my computer with a virus or something.

I mean, please, I don’t want any “oh how sad this story is” or (what I actually think would happen) “what a monster you are, go to hell”. I don’t want any attention in general. For me attention usually meant stress, more problems and pain. If anyone should still find this useful or helpful, I can just pray, but please don’t think I made this up or that I find that amusing or whatever…

By pressing that “Publish” button, or maybe just by writing something this strange, I could probably get on the list of some people, but I bet if so, I would already be on that list. Either way… I ended up writing about this because this situation –> I was happy a whole day (no anxiety, no pain, just peace and some people I like) and then –> My father opens the door.

Inside of me something must have screamed again or broke again.

I was happy when I could understand and feel all the good people who were just different, but I never asked for understanding all the people who do horrible things. God didn’t want me to feel that way, but he sure wants to use if for good, if I can heal and let it all behind me. Finally…

Writing about myself always feels strange, but I just do it, it just comes out now. Now that the blockades are more and more leaving and wounds are getting healed (mental and soul wounds). I just had to think about Jesus and how he at one point started to say to the people following him, that they have to eat his body and drink his blood and such things. I don’t know the exact context anymore, it made a little more sense in the bible with the context, but still was strange. And because of that, most people left him, leaving him with just his most trusted ones again. And we know that in the end, one of them betrayed him. But he knew that and he let it happen.

He died on the cross, but came to life again after two days in his tomb (when my memory is correct). I don’t see myself anywhere near that. I see myself more in a lost place and hopeless end. But I actually want to live now.

Doing this is like an All-In when playing poker, only that I don’t play poker. It feels more like russian roulette, but instead of one bullet, there is only one bullet missing in the revolver. And I pray that this one empty position is the one, when the trigger gets pulled.

I don’t know. I mean, I am basically just crazy from a normal persons perspective. I know that. But I also know, that in order to get normal again or at least actually good and healthy, I first have to make the pain/wound even wider open, to clean it. (speaking of my psychological wounds)

I am very intelligent, very empathic and I also can do many good things. But so far, this didn’t help me, it only helped me to destroy myself and almost others. Luckily I could hold myself back from letting those thoughts come into action, at least when it was about other people. I myself, never really had value for myself, after it broken in my childhood. What do you expect from a child who always seems to be wrong, gets things wrong? I mean, I sure would have seen myself in prison, dead or something in between. Or totally crazy. Luckily I am still alive, I am not in prison, I am not totally crazy (even though I sometimes feel like that and given my thoughts and past, I am not too sure sometimes, but at least I still know that it is somewhat crazy). So yeah, I think that is good, right?

For those of you who know the Netflix series “Money heist” (Spanish series about people who try to rob money for good), I consider myself as the professor for the most part. But it is just my perspective, maybe your perspective is, that I am actually a threat to society and that I should die or something. I don’t know. The other problem with writing about this is, that I could attract other people who maybe just read some words and then judge.

Okay, I think I have to publish it now. I pray and hope.

I just have to think about the song of Money heist again.

“If I am losing all, but I am winning late, that’s all I want.”

And man… how true that is. Because in my case, that means heaven or that some people also find the right way. For me the right way is to love each other, to be honest, kind and to believe in good and not to forget Jesus.

My believe is all over the place, but what always was there, since the first time I heard about it, was Jesus. Maybe I could have forgotten my whole life, but Jesus is and was so important for me (his story, life and unique character), should I loose my memory for some reason, this will be one of the, if not the last which will be gone.

I love you people in the internet! I don’t expect a response, I don’t expect anything. I know that some maybe still love me, I am already loving you back in a true and pure way. But I am also ready for the worst, that no one can except this.

Again, I had to do this for myself because I just can’t live with these things, even though I already shared them with my friend (which also burdens me). I have to share it with all people I am writing to, caring for. Otherwise I would only lie to myself again. I have to heal, but to heal, I (for myself and in my case) have to do it this way.

All what I write and share can be used against me, I know that. I am in some way, way too smart, but sometimes act as the dumbest idiot ever seen.

Even this could be seen as such.

I mean would you give someone who told you such things a job? Trust or feel comfortable with? Would you know me personally, you would of course do that, I guess. But for you I am probably just a voice, a writer far away.

I still feel a little uncomfortable when looking up some of your blogs (people who like my posts or follow me) because I often find myself thinking: “Wow, I didn’t expect that.” or “that is a little strange”. Only to come to the realization that I am actually way weirder.

The mirror again.

And because I can’t let my mind again pretend that I am any better than you, I have to do this. My mind thinks it is smart, but it did so many wrong things, you know where it ended.

My soul never betrayed me, I just betrayed her.

For me the soul is female or at least feminine. Maybe if you are a man as well, you have another view and yours might actually be masculine. But hey, that is your soul and your life.

I just know, that for the most part of my life I didn’t really know what was going on, only that it would only get worse when I get older.

I started to ignore feelings, emotions, dreams, hopes, friends, basically anything good. But not because I wanted to, I just didn’t see another way. And it happened more or less on it’s own. The feelings and emotions just were too heavy, so they got blocked and so on.

People become monsters, or animals, when they don’t see any other option (to survive). And in my case I thought, well I probably should have died earlier. But now that I still survived somehow, I might actually get the chance to be free. God only knows, whoever or whatever God is in the end. For me – many things at once, but all good things.

I will pray again now and then for real publish.

Why am I doing this… – Because I want to be free. (And I am very radical sometimes, when it comes to justice and honesty.) [Says the one who tried to learn how to lie so everyone thinks he is fine and normal – which sometimes worked more, sometimes less]

God, you know my soul was yours since when I was 5.

But again, now that I actually know who I am again, this is my soul. Do great things with it, I don’t want to have a great life. My life wasn’t the worst, but because of what was, I am prepared for the worst. All I want, is to win in the end. This is why I always loved you and Jesus. I am still not sure what exactly all of this is, but I know that good has to win and will win at one point in the future. Just let me be part of it. You know that I would do anything at this point, if it brings good. Give me the next step, should I be ready for it. But because I don’t know and I can’t earn heaven by what I want to do, I can only wait for your call, your sign again. Thank you, that you gave me the chance to do what I did. That I could write to people, that I could help some people and that I could find back to myself. The good little soul who got broken in the world. Thank you for all the lessons I learned in the past year and through out my life. They make sense now, while it still was the horror for me. I know that you didn’t want to see me in all this pain. You wanted me to feel good, to do great things. But maybe this is even greater, maybe it is nothing at all. It depends on you, I can write as much as I want, it is worth nothing, without love, honesty and your doing God.

Be with all my fellow readers, those who listen to my music, those who want to be free and search the truth. I hope I am doing this for you.

I hope it is good, only you know in the end.

Thank you, that you helped me accomplish this, without you, I would be dead many years ago. You wanted me to live, while I wanted to die. You wanted me to be a blessing, while I just felt like a burden. My mother prayed for a child which should be a blessing for those around it and you sent me. Probably crying, should you have tears, crying like I do right now.

I know, that I can’t really do anything without you. Help me, to do the right thing, especially with my father. You don’t force anyone and given my soul, I might wanted to take this burden, should I have known it before. You sure did. Thank you Jesus, for teaching me the right way, although I lost it because I didn’t see it in the world. You also didn’t see it and that is why you were there to show the people.

I am sorry for my mess, but you know what I did, what happened, why and when and for what it might be good. I am strong, I suppose, but I am weak without you. You were strengthen me, holding your hand around me to protect my soul. You didn’t allow me to kill me, you always found a way to stop me, if I couldn’t. Only in December, you did let it go this far, but you knew, that I wouldn’t do it. Still you gave me the opportunity to decide for myself. And I chose my friend and not death. I couldn’t even think about you God, or Jesus or anything. I just knew, I can’t let my friend alone.

I hope I don’t let you down, but I guess, you let me live for a reason. I can only imagine, but it was already worth it. I have to fully trust you, while I still don’t know what exactly you are. Many things. You know my heart, my soul, my mind. All is yours, after all.

Sorry for my words, but maybe what I write, is what you want.

Whatever happens, I know that I feel better when the truth is out. When I can see the good in everything. I am just a soul. Thank you for what I was able to experience, to see, to hear, to know, to feel and all what was. With you, I will always win because even if I die on earth, just my body is dead.

But I know, that I might fall tomorrow again. Please help me, so that I don’t forget this. I have nothing to loose, just my strange life on this strange earth.

Your ways are strange, but would they be clear, they wouldn’t be worth it.


The videos after this text, were recommended after I finished writing.

Man… I just have to cry again. It is so good.

I don’t know what happened, but it is good. 💓

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