Next year…



Would I be somewhere, where I would feel accepted and where what I see and understand (be it wrong or actually new or whatever) is worth an investigation and not just unwanted noise…


My mother wants that she can die with a smile…

My mother believes that this earth is lost anyway and will be destroyed.

My mother tells me that I should not get confused by others I don’t even know.

My mother doesn’t want to live on this earth.

My mother believes that after this earth is destroyed there will be a new one.

But as I said previously, what would be the difference?

And my mother is the good one of my parents.

My father… he hurt me badly and broke me.

My mother in her way, since she believes in things which were not even meant the way she believes in them.

My father believes even strangers who convinced him to basically steal things out of my house.

My mother believes people who talk about god.

And I actually read the bible and made my mind up.

But what does it matter… I won’t survive next year anyway.

I felt it the whole year, this pain I was holding back.

And I feel even more pain when I just think about next year.

Should I go, I don’t know.

Should I die anyway, then okay.

But I know, that if you want this earth to burn, then why do we even keep on living?

It makes no sense.

I believe in love I felt and that there are people who feel it as well and who don’t want to continuesly destroy this planet or ignore things and therefor support its destruction.

We could argue whether the devil and or just evil people rule the world, but if all of this earth was meant to die, then why was it created in the first place? Wouldn’t it then be paradox to say, that it was good? Wouldn’t it then be paradox to say, that it was a paradise? And isn’t it paradox that everyone has to suffer because of a few dumb heads who want everything for themselves?

If I am honest, I also don’t want to survive next year, not like this.

Before I just managed to somehow continue because I ignored myself and everything and had a hopefully soon death as a possible end for this nightmare of a life. But now it seems that it actually has to end, because even if I wanted to live, I am not able to in this world.

I have to get away from where I am, I have to be somewhere else.

Far away…



I think my plan for next year is to run away.

I am not able to handle anything in a way as it would be asked of me.

I was barely able to before and now that I let everything through out / in, I held back, I am not sure how I survive at all. I mean I know, because I “burned out” my brain and forcefully “forgot” everything and fed myself with this hope of soon death.

I think when I should die next year, then at least from a natural cause of death, like hunger or thurst.

It wouldn’t be more painful than anything else I would probably die from or end up doing.

And who knows, maybe I would find someone or something or get somewhere I wouldn’t have seen or found otherwise.

Staying where I am will be my death anyway.

And I can’t escape it in a normal way because I guess no one believes me when I say that I feel as if I am dying.

I am really a glitch, an unwanted problem it seems. But isn’t that actually a false believe, since everything and everyone can be or is important?

I am so sick of wrong believes and how the bible says that the children are the future and the kingdom of heaven is for them, but parents know everything better, as they say. Or that I have to always respect their opinion, although it hurts me, is toxic and depressing.



When I am on my own surrounded by trees, I know what this God is, I can feel love.

If I die next year, for whatever reason or whatever happens to me, at least I hope that I wasn’t completely useless or just content for more confusion and broken stories. That I won’t just be another lost cause, forgotten problem or hopeful dreamer who couldn’t hold the hope and love because of everything shattering from the outside and then the inside.

People say “the inner demons”, but I say, that I couldn’t hold them back from getting inside, maybe even created them because I wanted to die. Since all this world gave me was hate, pain and anger anyway. So helping it to kill me seemed logical, since my love it didn’t want nor understand.

Maybe I was different for that matter, but I don’t think that I was alone with this and I know I am not.

I was a child, what did you expect? That I stand against it all on my own, while it seemed that I was not wanted in the way I was? Doubting myself, hating myself for being kinder, wiser and more intelligent than others. To break it all, to leave only a mess and broken soul behind.

I only fought through it because the pressure and pain got so strong last year that I couldn’t resist.

It was probably not for myself, although at some points I hoped it might be.

I guess I won’t make it anyway, I hope, but I am not sure.

Believing in the good in hearts, in others like me.

Hoping that besides all the mess I became, maybe something helpful will carry on.

It is weird, but when I thought about my funeral, should I die, then I would like to just get buried next to trees while being wrapped in linen. But in my country I wouldn’t get such a funeral and I would also not like to die, not really, but I also could never really live here. Earth was not responsible for it, not plants, not animals, they didn’t hurt me, didn’t hate me nor irritate me. If even they support(ed) me, comfort(ed) me and were seeking help from me. But compared to them and all humanity I am a little maggot, why would they care for me…

Although they knew me probably better than I was able myself, they loved me anyway. They knew that I didn’t want evil, that I didn’t want to be this way and that I still have a lot of love in me. It only makes me sad, that I wasn’t able to give more of it and instead destroyed a lot of it. At least it feels like this, as if my heart is like a battery which was running on a short curcuit for too long, making it “empty” without any use. Just for the sake of moving, of continuing because I had to. Especially when I didn’t want to or couldn’t.

“The show must go on.” –

The good thing about hearts is, unlike actual electrical batteries or such things, they can full heal and regain their power. At least that is why I believe.

It just seems pointless, when you are surrounded by “short curcuits” or “users” who will empty the energy as soon as it is filled because they either haven’t learned to regain it on their own, never wanted to or also can’t.

I can do it, I always could, but it never seemed like a good idea, would it only mean that I would either have to waste it anyway or get hurt or give it someone who doesn’t really give it back. Love is not about giving and taking, I know that, but when you seem like the only giver for the most part, at the people you are surrounded with most of your life, then it seems pointless to recharge, only to get empty.

It sounds more technical than it is, it is nothing mechanical or electrical. I mean, I don’t know what it is exactly, for me a heart just isn’t like a phone, you can plug in and recharge (or whatever).

And especially that energy also has to first be produced or gained.

Alone-time gives me my love back or spending time with people who are also open about things and really want to help others or support them.

I believe that actual friends who really trust each other to the core can carry love, spread love and therefor make others open for it as well. But when you are on your own, it is almost impossible. You have to be very strong and have trust in yourself and also allow yourself to feel and have the love and not only give it to others.

Would I see myself as someone else, someone who would ask me to be my friend, I would be happy to have me because I would know that when I feel good and safe and wanted, that I can do a lot and really care for others and want to do things good and not just “oh hey, it somehow works”.

But I can’t really feel good, safe or wanted because the actual me, what makes me a personaliy, is ignored or even hated in a way. Ignorance alone would be hard enough, but hearing from your own father that I am responsible for everything wrong in his life or that I am making my grandfather’s house fall apart, while my father cuts down all kinds of branches from trees and bushes or flowers and does such things…

And my mother telling that I shouldn’t trust people online, while she herself listened to preachers online she never met in person. …



I saw things from other perspectives, tried to understand why some things are and weren’t. Like twins, together or apart. Like hearts and mind of the in between. And I understood, that some people just wanted a perfect show, a perfect system, so they could get rid of everything which was not “perfect” to their values of what they wanted to see.

Why do we need horror or fantasy worlds or sci-fi to talk about reality or things which happened or might happen?

Why can’t we just talk about it open?

When there is a cat with three legs, you also don’t say, that it isn’t a cat, do you?

When there is a human without arms, you also wouldn’t say they aren’t a human, would you?

And in case they might have an extra pair of hands on their back, would it make them a monster?



Isn’t it more for what is inside and what they do with it?

And isn’t it that maybe the fear or hate of others made them the way they feel or act?

A human face doesn’t scare you, but a spider does?




I personally don’t want to stand myself between whatever made life possible.

It just seems that everyone is allowed to speak on behalf of it, while using it as an excuse or explanation, rather than “it just was and is, let us be, let us live”. Instead we are told to suffer or die, would it have been the intention of God or love, then why did my mother give birth to me?

Why didn’t I die before my birth?

It would only make sense, when the love I was able to give was not wanted, while my mother praid for it.

I still don’t understand in which way she meant it, when she praid me to be a blessing, while then she wanted me to do what others did or especially my father who thought I was evil or something.







And the thing is, that I held it all back and locked in my love in order to protect it or to survive.

I mean, I think I drew dead things in kindergarten and saw dark figures especially in at my home.

So I imagined angels to protect me and fight them. But at some point it was just all too much.

You can’t expect a child to be responsible for everything, especially not when it has a high responsibility problem and feeling of guilt to be alive for all the hateful words it heard, pain it felt, physically and just in the room, with people.

You can’t expect a child to stay happy, normal and peaceful, especially when the father or parents weren’t.

Yet I was, from the outside and when I was with others. Holding it back so much, that I sometimes even just ran away when someone called on the phone or I had to talk with someone or go somewhere. So bad, that it made me feel like toxic waste, like an accident, a negative by product of some chemical reaction or some energy source, like battery acid.

And at some point my better part, my love, the girl or woman I wasn’t supposed to be, since I was raised and seen as a man for my body, it broke free. Always feeling this pain, this madness around me. Sometimes not knowing anymore whether someone might also see it like I do or whether it really is just me.

Knowing that I am in fact not alone, I really hope it will let me survive next year, hope it will give me strength to break out of this in a good way. Because last year was already a thought to be lost battle, a final battle for me to finally do what is good for myself and not everyone else.

It used all my almost none-existing power and I couldn’t regain it this year. Only to some point.

Of course I was able to fight other fears and found other strengths and hidden memories.

But that was just to wake up from the depressing, dystopian world and find back to the love I once had and wasn’t able to break until it went away anway. Went cold, I had it, although I could have done other things. But I wasn’t sure and already felt too broken to speak and wasn’t able to. Would I have had a few girls as friends, maybe I would have not turned cold. Why would it even had been a problem? It wasn’t… it just didn’t seem to be okay back then. And with the others I didn’t know what to say, had not connection. I guess I always felt like a girl between boys, while I looked like a boy and was considered one.

It is the past, I know, I also don’t want to change it for my sake, it wouldn’t change a thing for me any way and at worst make everything even worse. No, I don’t want that.

I would want that to be something for now and from now on.

To be a friend again and have actual friends who really want to talk, who also have their opinions and views, but are not just following these old or basic patterns most people seem to follow.

What is so wrong on questioning things and being different? Nothing.

Only calling it wrong or problematic makes it actually a problem.

Otherwise it maybe could even be cool or fun and interesting, since it is depressing and boring to always hear the same old stories like: “I want to marry and have kids.” or “I want to be famous”

And you know, I have nothing against kids, fame and all. I just hate that there often is not much else except for silly jokes and phrases for most people or distractions of some sort.

We can learn things and change, that isn’t a problem. For me it only is a problem would people see what could be possible and also that they could be free and feel good and loved, but decide to stick with things as they were or are. It can be hard to break out, I know and some people also might be happy the way they are, I don’t know. It just usually seems otherwise, at least at some point.

My mother wanted to be a mother, have children and a man she could sacrifice herself for and got that, although it was less the fullfillment of her wish and more her being not true to herself or maybe really here. I mean, she just escaped one religious cult and got already taken towards the next hell, without even realising things. Then she got me and only me, although my father asked whether she wanted children (the plural).

He (according to him) praid for a woman who does everything for him, which my mother did in a way. Yea… both got what they wanted, more or less, both are not happy and I am here and think, why wasn’t my wish granted?

People: What was your wish?

To be dead…

… at least after being allowed to live in a way I was okay with, basically being there for others, while having fun helping them and being able to maybe teach or support others with thier dreams and goals and give them a safe haven maybe.

But death was granted to me several times, I could have had it, when I am honest.

What held me back was, that I knew it wasn’t what I actually wanted, but what I wanted before I wished for it.

I am not sure whether I can even give that or do that, although are might already do it or give in in a way. Although I often think I probably only confuse some people and must seem like a complete mess or something… I can love someone like me, but I am not sure about others. It is strange, but I knew that I could only make it at least possible, would I open up and be honest. Maybe too honest or open for a lot of people.

But I hope it was understood, that I am sick of violence, hate and these things, I am exhausted because of these things and that I don’t want and never wanted to be evil, like really evil. It is one thing to feel evil and another thing to be it, while maybe thinking otherwise or just continue and live by it.

The child didn’t want pain, anger and hatred or such things. But I had to learn them in order to understand them and it just happened because of what happened with and around me. It is easy said “you always have a choice”, because tell me, what would you have done? Hopefully something more and other things, but people often say such things without knowing how someone felt, what they went through and survived. To them it might seem like a joke or no big deal, while they don’t even see the tip of the iceberg, while you / I had to carry it all.

And I prayed for being able to help and that I won’t have to work like others because I couldn’t. But I guess even God has to obey the german document heaven. I know that ny wishes, wherever they went, if not just my heart, made a difference. And that what I went through made the wishes possible. I know this, but I also know, that I won’t survive going through it again. And because of some laws, documents and expectations, I will probably have to and without a doubt I already feel, that it will be my end.

I can only hope and pray my way. You should know that I usually don’t pray with words and if so not aloud. It is more that I hold my heart or head or just lie down in my bed and then I see images, sceneries and such things and feelings. And that is my prayer, my way of wishing from heart. In a way there might be words and sometimes I also willingly use words in my thoughts, but they feel more like water or an echo of what I already saw, felt or wish without them. Words are actually a way of human communication, but with my cat I often just look in the eyes or touch her and she touches me. Holding our hands or heads together. No words needed.

Words are not necessary to say what you need nor is speaking at all, sadly most people need it since they haven’t learned otherwise or maybe allowed other things.

A baby doesn’t come to live with a specific language. I mean, okay, maybe in some cases, since they might have already catched some words while still being in the belly, but that’s not what I mean. A baby learns the language of those who care for it or are supposed to be the parents or caretakers. At least usually it is this way.

And love is also a form of communication, of connection, which sadly is often not given. Still children can have it and develop it. Someone always carries love or something like a butterfly or bird or cat or even a grass hopper. You just have to be open for it.


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