My stupid genius

When people would ask me, why my stories aren’t intelligent and well written, I would agree. Then they might ask why I write them then and the answer is simple. I have to downgrade myself because I can’t write what I know and I can’t write it because I know that most people wouldn’t understand it and would I write even more obvious, they might think that it could be real.

And no one wants that, since they all already know what is real. They have read it, saw it and heard it from others who studied it.

And I doubt myself why I even tried. I hate myself for writing things most people will ignore anyway.

Why did you write then? – Because it seemed better to let everyone feel and see, instead of just experiencing on my own, alongside with those who might feel the same.

“But it is just a phase, it is just a depression, it will pass.” – No it won’t because it isn’t mine, it isn’t what I feel, it is what earth feels and all what walks and is around it.

“You can’t feel that and you can’t do that. You must be out of your mind.” – The problem is, that it isn’t me who is out of their mind, otherwise I wouldn’t have to feel this way. I can lay down on a field of grass, I can lean on a tree or swim in the ocean, a river or lake. I can even make food, if I would really want to or try and I can drink water out of a natural source.

If I would be the creator of all life, would it be selfish to say: “And they all were able to think and see and were shocked and terrified of what they were and did. But then they realized, they could change.”

Yes, it would be selfish, so I would probably be better of without those who don’t see, while they think they do.

And then it would be selfish again because I wouldn’t give them the freedom I promised. So I try to teach them, show them, challenge them, but then they think it is just for fun or irrelevant, while those who know it isn’t are dying.

Does this mean I am the creator? No, obviously not, otherwise I would understand why no one seems to see, except for a few. Then I would know, why these few try to show, understand and scream, while the others are just talking and talking and walking, pressing buttons and laugh. Then I would know why so many are sad and broken, while it is because of what they do, they go against themselves because others made them do that.

And then I would ask myself, why did I give them free will anyway? I should have known, that it would end in chaos. So I try to stop them, but they stop me, not knowing what they are doing, but didn’t I do the same?

I actually warned them, but instead they build their own version of me, hundreds, millions of versions they say represent me. But I didn’t do it, or did I? If so, why did I do it, if I didn’t want it?

Was it that I myself had a problem I didn’t know about?

It was loneliness.

But then I wasn’t because I felt good alone, so how did it happen?

Maybe I lied to myself because I wanted to feel good and played with myself, until what I played with, played with me.

I know that there are others who have seen more, done way more and scream louder than I would ever can, but it seems that it isn’t enough. Is it my fault?


Luckily it isn’t all dark and all bad. Otherwise I wouldn’t know why I would be still here.

And there are amazing people out there on the streets somewhere.

And of course people who do care, make a difference and might still try to think positive.

I am very pessiminstic these days and very broken because I know that I will probably not make it that long.

I only have these questions: Do you love nature and the beauty it offers? And do you want by heart to help nature, help those who want to help and might change others minds?

Hopefully you do, my apology for my dark, pessimism, my crazy thoughts and this endless explosion of a bullet in the back of my head. There is nothing left for me than hope and faith in others who might be on the same page and are wiser or still more optimistic than I myself.

I still live to this day because I stayed and tried to somehow live with the things happening around, to myself and others. While not being able to really speak about it or trust in it or feel as if I could. Because it seemed that most people were just paying attention to minor problems, while the big problems were ignored completely.

Living kinda in the matrix is pretty shit, but you can only escape it, when you think about what you would actually want if you would have no boundaries, expectations nor dependencies.

She wanted to write fiction. I wanted to make people feel good and also do some things with them. But when you see this black hole sucking everything in and it seems you can’t do a thing about it, it breaks you.

If I would have risked getting locked away, I would have probably felt better now because I at least said what I had to say. But I couldn’t, I was scared. And now it is pointless anyway. At least when I let the pessimism take over. I don’t believe in the use of pessimism, I am very optimistic, would I just be able to believe that those with all the “buttons” are just stupid machines, while everyone else knows better. Here and there a few do something, but as I said so many times: I don’t see a difference.

I know that you might see something, that you think that I don’t see the positive changes and all, but you should really try to understand what I mean, when I say this. It isn’t that I can’t see changes, I can see a lot of things others don’t even know are possible. I just didn’t see this “flip” in people’s minds, in all or at least most people, that they would finally understand that they should be honest and open and if others can’t accept it, that they might go and search for some who can and want.

I only see people who try to make others see or try to do something which is possible for them and I only live because of these people because they give me hope. But it breaks me, when others don’t see the message they try to make.

That most people are still: “Well, at least it isn’t me.” or “Luckily no one I know has to deal with these kind of things.” or “As long as I have a good time, the rest is irrelevant for me.”

A part of me would die in an instant, if it could make one of these people who see and want to help and change things able to do it or do more and secure their and the lives of others they might reach.

Because when I stay I don’t know when I might cause problems for others no one needs, besides that I still feel as if I won’t survive this year. It is this feeling some might know from a short shocking event or when they feared something, were terrified, anxious or even paranoid. Only that in my case I had this my whole life.

So when I watched horror movies or horrible things, it sometimes was even kinda fun. Probably because it was like some kind of antidote to my feelings, making me feel good about feeling horrified, since when watching horrible things it seemed to be normal to feel this way.

It doesn’t mean that some of these things didn’t give me some chills, but most of them didn’t. I usually didn’t have nightmares and could sleep good. Because it was normal for me to live in a nightmare.

Now that I allowed myself to consider it not normal, these feelings kill me, but it all would have killed me anyway, so I actually just live because I let them through. Maybe the adrenaline is exhausted and that’s why I am in pain because it is empty and doesn’t really refill and so it can’t suppress the feelings and make me continue. If I would be on a tropical island or just am in some kind of more natural place, I know the feelings are good so I can feel the warmth and embrace it. Luckily nature is stronger than me, sadly I am not sure.

When I write a positive story, people might feel better as well and get hope, but maybe they would only use it to make even more things which go against nature and won’t really do anything. When I write something negative, I only drag them down even more. Do I write more neutral, it feels like writing an instruction sheet for a vending machine. And when I write fantasy / fiction, it seems that it won’t be taken serious anyway. So I take myself the point in writing because I consider it pointless, when there is no one else who would be able to see beyond the letters and understand the meaning. I guess because most people either think that some things are meaningless until they give them their own meaning or because they simply can’t think without a guidance. Like “this image represents the might of the sun”, while there could have been a detail on it, like a little running guy with a burning head. And then the whole thing represented something completely different.

It is funny how art is only relevant when the artist is dead because then they can’t tell what it actually meant. Well, or if the art is easily misunderstood maybe. For example when people listen to words of a song, while in the music video and the sound of the voice the whole meaning is completely different or might obviously underline the already said. And instead they look at the artist and think or say: “Damn, that is some weird stuff, how do you come up with such things?” and the artist might just think: “Oh GOD WHY AM I EVEN TRYING!” Or they might just die inside because they don’t know either and are terrified by what they do themselves. Maybe like I myself, only that I know why I do it and what consequences for myself it could have and also others. The problem is, that if I would listen to the: “But think about what it could cause!!!” all the time, I would just sit there and look on the keyboard and screen for several hours until I might think: “Well, better let’s not do that.” Only to do it anyway, since it seems that it doesn’t matter anymore either way.

For example to repeat myself knowingly, while I actually would want to write something completely different, laugh and enjoy the presence of the birds outside my video. Maybe even go out to them and see whether one of them might land on my arm or even eat out of my hands. Since even animals I never met come and lie down on my lap or sit next to me. Who knows… 🙂

I am just sometimes a monster because I had to become like those who make everything broken the way it is, pretending it would get better and good, while they either do the opposite or have no clue what that actually means: “It will take care of itself.” (or whatever they think).