Besides the little reminder, that people not really care about others in general, it is nothing new for me, although it kinda approved what I was thinking and feeling while watching and listening to her songs.
Do you know what some of the people who I like and care about have in common?
They usually say or said things like: I grew up in a normal family and had a good life.
Or things like that.
I don’t know the family situations of most of the people and from a boundary perspective, it is also not my business. At least when everything would actually be okay. But sadly, people either think this way no matter what or they want to know every detail, even or especially when it hurts.
I have seen it with my own neighbors who at some point said, that they don’t want to know about our family situation….
While other neighbors were very open about things, like our russian neighbor with her daughters. I hope they are all alright because to me they also all seemed sad and hopeless in a way. And very kind and retreated.
I think their grandmother even wanted to get me and the older daughter together. And I personally wouldn’t have had anything against that because I always loved everyone in a way. Especially those who were on the borders, who were in the dark, outsiders etc.
And I mean, in general I love people, I just can’t show them usually because I got hurt too many times. So this way I try to show it because other ways didn’t really work for me so far. Not really.
When I am with others, I care about what is inside. When I was little I probably was different because I haven’t seen enough. I have too many parts, characters, ways to see things. It is easy for me to forget who I am. I know what the collection of me means for this world, maybe for you and the future of us, but sometimes not for myself. The reason for this is, that I still consider myself as a problem. Not always and not in general anymore, like it used to be, but whenever I am communicating with someone else.
Especially people I care about and don’t want to hurt, confuse or things like that. And these days it might actually be almost everyone who gets in touch with me in some way. So most-likely you as well, at least when I have seen your name or know that you are out there, reading, watching, listening.
Looking back to my childhood and school time in general, I probably loved or cared for every girl or woman who crossed my way, even those I just saw a few times on the street or passing by in the school floors.
Depending on the character of some people, I of course had a hard time with some, but when I now think about it, I am still glad I met them.
When people accused me for not being interested in girls, it was further from the truth than things can be. My problem was, that I had love for everyone. My problem was, that I knew too much about how things work.
And because of that, I did my best to distance myself. And I know, that I probably broke more than one heart. I know for sure in a couple of cases…
You know, it is like this, if I see your heart, the way you are, then I love you.
But because I couldn’t love everyone and also thought that no one would love my true self, I didn’t say a thing.
My love was confusing myself because I didn’t really see such a love in the people or world around me. I saw some people for sure, who might have felt similar, but too many were already or always in their own box, own world.
For me it was like, why can’t I just be in love with everyone? Why do people force themselves to only love one at a time and then not them really, because they don’t want to actually know about their true self?
At least in most cases I have seen so far… and if even, then often one of the two opened up or at least to some point and the other just faked it or I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know who my father is, while I am living right next to him. I know other people better, maybe even you, than I know my own father. Why? Because he is almost never really himself. I can imagine how his true self would be, without all his heartache, weird religious believes and “friends” and all insecurties. I have seen him a few times in my life, the true him and it was a kind, beautiful man who had an eye for beautiful things and smart. But only a few times in my whole life….
When I was talking to girls or women, I felt ashamed in a way. Because usually, at least when they were not too fake, I was attracted by them and also by their heart and way of being. Before you think, that this only was with ones who were perfect looking, like models or whatever, no…
Also with ones who had a lot of weight and weren’t attractive looking for “normal” / average people. As long as they were honest and didn’t try to hide it away or whatever. For me it was, that I knew why they looked this way and I mean, I am not talking about: Everyone has to look good. I am actually talking about reasons why some people might make themselves look not good or weird and feel weird. I personally also was way overweight in secondary school. My reason was clear, I hated myself, I wanted to die and I thought: Well, when people who are overweight die earlier, then I have to push it. Or something like that, besides forcing myself to think negative about myself and other things like this. All caused by my family, bullies, religion, school and basically how the world works (in most cases).
So or me the weight or appearance wasn’t that important and I knew, that the things (like overeating or not eating) could change, when they would knew that they are good the way they are. But as long as I couldn’t do that for myself, how should I have been able to show them…(?)
It was like, in my head I knew what could be, how things should be and that others would also want it and love it and themselves and all. But I wasn’t able to show it and words really never were able to do that either.
Like talking about love… it is a feeling, it is a power, it is a hope, it is like fuel, it gives life, it unites, it is stronger than hate and destruction. But these are still words and if you can’t feel it, can’t see it, than how should these words make any difference….
I mean, I was afraid to look at girls and women because I felt that I didn’t deserve that. But on the other hand, I had problems with my sexuality, with my feelings in general and sometimes just wanted to fuck them all…
And I have to say it this way because otherwise it wouldn’t be honest.
And this is still the case in a way, although it now feels different. It is not as messed up as it was back then. Because back then I was a complete freak, hiding everything away. While we are talking about weird things…
I mean, I promised to be honest here and because I have not really something to lose, I can write these things and share them with you. I wouldn’t recommend this to others, because it is nothing you should do, especially when you plan to live for a while, don’t want to be avoided etc.
And I mean, I also hope that most people don’t even have such things to write or share about, since it is just nothing I wish for them, but yea….
It is just, I have to write about this because I don’t want that others have to go through this or if so, then not alone. And to show, what can happen and what many might hide inside. That evil “bastards” hide things, while convincing everyone that they are saints, that should be clear by now. But I am more talking about actually good people who are lost, broken or simply confused with their life or who they are.
I mean, when I was still in elementary school, I already developed patterns of sexuality, thoughts about sex and connections between movement, visuals and reaction. I mean, back then I thought, that sex was about rubbing against each other, making some noise and feeling dirty. Or something like that. So I often did or tried what I saw. I mean, it wasn’t even biologically possible for me to get an actual reaction, but I didn’t mind, although I learned that later in school.
And I also did try to hide such things away and do it in secret.
I mean, you could have catched me rubbing myself against my blankets, the couch or whatever I could hug, while watching people on TV (scenes where there were women without all their clothes on), or I got a hand on my grandfather’s “newspaper” which often had images of half or fully naked women on some pages. I even got my mother’s catalogs for clothes and watched the pages with the underwear.
I even printed some images of half or fully naked women and tried to fuck them. I even fucked a chair, a toilet paper role, a bottle… and such things.
I mean, who does that? Well… apparently a completely broken child…
I even searched the Teletext (something which was used for older TV’s to present some shows or make ads) for pixel drawings of women and dirty words. Yes……. yes I did that.
And while a part of me knew that it was completely crazy, at least most of these things I did, I just couldn’t really control it. I basically got aroused by just looking at a girl or woman. Which was then also a reason, why I felt ashamed for looking at them and also because I thought, would they know how crazy and messed up I was, they would of course never want to see me again.
After some time I then completely lost myself… I mean on one side I got bullied since elementary school or at least others made fun of me, on the other side that (partially as a result of all what happened to me) and then girls even defended me sometimes. Or some even wanted to know what I was writing. Two girls even asked me and my best friend back then, whether we want to save ourselves for someone special or would sleep with them. I don’t know what we said, but I know that nothing happened.
I mean, for me it was shame enough to get defended by girls, while I felt like the biggest sicko and also was in private… so I clearly didn’t deserve their care and help.
It was a big mistake, because maybe they would have loved me anyways, the way I loved all of them. It is so weird and I can totally understand that you might not want to read things from me anymore or that you don’t like me anymore. People didn’t like me for way less I shared with them, so yeah… it is okay. It is a lot to handle. At least it is out now.
Some of these things I told my trusted friend / cousin others maybe not like this or I didn’t remember at the time I was opening up about it all.
And again, I do this, because I have nothing to lose. And because I hope, that it might help some people out there or finally make this broken world stop the way it is. But it would be enough, if people would care a little more for each other and also wouldn’t judge as quick as they usually do.
When I still was in elementary school, I already had this sexual development and I didn’t really know what to make with it. I mean, I even had thoughts like: If I would be an adult already, I could fuck as many women I would want to fuck. Well, guess where that came from…
And basically that I wanted to have sex, while I didn’t even really know what it actually was. Only what I read in some books, had seen on TV or what I saw on a friends computer (porn). And before you now think, that I would now say: Ban porn. Or whatever… you won’t hear that from me. I would say something like: WTF IS THIS MESS YOU CREATED?!
I mean, it was just a feeling inside me which got triggered and then fueled. But you can’t ban a feeling, you can only learn to handle, understand and maybe control it. For me this was especially hard because I had at some point all feelings under control, bottled them up and was like a machine, but inside it was screaming and sometimes not just inside, sometimes things got outside.
When I was still living at my father’s house, being in elementary school, one of my cousins visited us. I think together with her brother, my only real friend so far. (At least when it comes to someone being able to handle me)
And I just remember, that I was in the living room, lying there pretending to sleep, until everyone was asleep. Then I got out of my clothes, or at least at some point I had no clothes on. I then walked like this in the room where my cousin was, actually sleeping in my bed and I just stood there and watched her sleep. I don’t know for how long, maybe not long and I also don’t know whether she woke up from it or not. And then I went into the living room again.
In case you think that was creepy, weird, crazy and sick, well… yes it was. So you know, why I don’t want that anyone has to go through things I went through, did or was scared of myself.
I really can’t tell you what exactly was the reason for what I did there or what I gained from it, but it was a weird feeling. Partially good, partially awkward perverted and evil and the rest was just pure horror and confusion.
I mean I even tried to fuck a tree or ran around naked outside and in the forest. One time someone almost saw me or maybe they saw me, I don’t know for sure…. I even peed outside of the the window and such things. I mean, when I was in elementary school I guess.
So it is no wonder that I was depressed by the age of 8-9 and didn’t want to live anymore. And the more I found out about people, myself and how the world works, this feeling got stronger.
When I was in elementary school time, I also played with another cousin. We played movie actors sometimes and then even were lying on top of each other, like couples in movies do. But of course with clothes on.
(Does he really think, that anyone cares at this point? He is completely sick and shouldn’t be a free man. Each time I read something more from him, it gets weirder, sick and I didn’t even want to know all this. Nor did I think, that it was possible for one human being to be that messed up. What a perverted psychopathic monster)
Eh ….. yes, that is how I would say is, that I think, what others think or would say about me. Or worse things, since it can always get worse, I just didn’t see things getting really better.
And the worst part is, that I actually had a good friendship with this cousin. I often was playing with her and might have even been a bigger brother for her. Since her actual bigger brother has autism without the ability to really communicate (at least not on normal human level) and usually behaves like a little child, although he is only a couple of years younger than me.
When I was in secondary school (when I wasn’t living in my father’s house, just with my mother in the flat inside the police building), maybe I was 12, she was with us for some days or maybe one or two weeks, during some holidays. I remember that I at least once, played with her and at some point it got out of hands. Because then I was pressing a pillow or something onto her face multiple times and I think she couldn’t even breath for a second. I don’t know why I did that and can’t really remember the reason. I just know, that I probably caused a psychological trauma for her. Obviously understandable…. And I hate myself for it. I remember that she was laughing at some point, but looking back, it seemed more like a confused, irritated, shocked and maybe broken laughing. Totally understandable in such a situation.
You have to keep in mind, that I hate myself for all that and that I would make it undone, if possible. And I know, that I probably ruined her life because before that, she usually was more confident about herself and we were more like bros or something. But after that the connection obviously was broken, we did distance from each other and I think that she then also felt bad about herself. And now she seems like a young woman who has no idea who she is, what she really wants and that she always was beautiful and perfect. Instead she wears makeup, tries to look even more perfect and got dragged away by the beauty and fashion industry… I just hope her husband isn’t as fake as I sensed it, the one time heard him, when there was a small family meeting.
You also should understand, that my father sometimes played with me in fun, making me laugh when ditching me with his finger. But that he did the same, when he was angry, just with more force, until I cried, screamed or tried to run away. That I got blamed for dropping a few drops of milk on the floor by accident. That when my mother gave me a swap to clean the kitchen floor, because I wanted to help, when she left the house for a few minutes, my father took it away. Accusing me of making something wrong, because I probably could break the floor or whatever.
That he didn’t like it, when I played with my toy cars on the floor, because they could damage it. That he hated, when I drew him, the way I saw him, grumpy and angry. That he hated it, when I was listening music or in general radio, while we had many radios in the house. But he usually just listened to the news, some preachers or such things. That he got especially angry, when I just wanted to watch TV (at my grandfather’s, since he had no TV), because it was the devil’s machine. While probably most other kids in my village were watching TV, some of them even had gaming consoles or could play on their parents computers and some even had mobile phones.
It was only good, that he didn’t know how a computer worked and still almost has no idea, so when an older cousin gave me is old, I at least had something where I could hide inside and forget everything. Basically playing “The Settlers II” and drawing or writing some things and trying to understand the Windows 98 operating system. And I had this computer and played the few games I later bought on a flea market or got from my cousin: Emergency, Emergency 2, The Settlers II – Gold Edition (1997), F1 2000.
And I got it when I was 7 or 8. Just in time, so I could hide a little and don’t get dragged down by everything too bad. Because around the same time the bullying started.
I had this computer with these games until I was 12-13, when I finally got a new computer and my grandfather paid it for me. The I also got some more games and one or two years later finally internet. Actually in 2012, when I also started to write Anton Barsch and many peoms. Because I finally found other people who weren’t like everyone around me. And especially I found Gronkh or his real name Erik Range. A man who also went through a lot and now mostly plays and talks for a living. He started on YouTube back in 2010 and also had a small gaming show for some time and now makes livestreams for himself and sometimes together with others to help people with charity and such things.
He was for me like a father I never had. Even had similar roots, thoughts, feelings and character in some ways. By his age, he really could be my father and also by the way he is. He also saved me, because at that time I found him, I already started to completely give up on life. In school I did for the most part, but at least not in my secret sanctuary, my broken heart and mind. Where I still had some dreams and hopes. So I started programming, playing online games, made a lot of friends and started to have hope again. Only to break all into pieces just a few years later on go down from there more and more. I mean, this time felt like an eternity, but was just a few years.
But parts of me got still more broken over time. While some part of me, since early childhood felt female and I also had a very high, almost female voice back then. I sometimes felt so small, helpless, innocent and really like a little girl. Just all messed up…. And in the shower I sometimes also felt female, while on other occasions I sometimes even forgot, that I even was a human. I sometimes was acting, feeling and trying to control myself like a machine. With codes, numbers and rational / logical thinking.
And on the other hand I felt this need to fuck, rape and basically torture women. At some point I even installed mods for games or tried to make some myself, in which I could do that.
Did it make me feel any better about myself? Of course not.
Did it help me? It depends on how you would describe help…. Since “help” is a very relative thing these days. Because everyone can say: “I just want to help you”, like my father or other people. And then they hurt you, ignore your boundaries, feelings and logical behavior.
And at this point, it is really messed up to hear words like logic, normal and behavior from someone like me, since I was completely broke and still sometimes I am.
And I did that because I knew, that I wouldn’t be able to speak with people I know or in my area about this. Probably not even with any average human. Because while some people have basic problems and fears, I had so many, that I wished to know what I didn’t have. It was easier to count things which I thought were good about me, than things which weren’t. Since I considered everything about me as broken, wrong, weird and so on.
I wasn’t like this when I was born. I was kind, wanted to help everyone and everywhere. Was intelligent, open minded and interested in everything and everyone. I had always a big heart, was interesting in new things and tried to explore, learn and try out things. So that I could explain to my mother how her cell phone worked, how a computer works, from hardware, programming, software, operationg system etc. I basically live this thing and know more than some people who work in this area, getting a lot of money. But to be fair, some of the for sure know some details I don’t know about.
But I just have an understanding of things of all kinds of areas. Which then obviously also made be easily believe, that I could basically imagining everything, since I understood more than most people or maybe everyone.
And on the other hand, I sometimes just played with the neighbor girls and we were trying to play baseball on the street or with the other younger girls I played something with magic and wizards. Just innocent games and where I just felt safe and happy and home.
I really miss them and these few times, without all the fear, broken me and dispair, depression, trauma and whatelse.
You really don’t want to know what I know, see what I saw or see and have to live with it. But then I also know that there are many people out there who went to similar things and in some cases worse than me.
The good thing about me is, that I can see from victim perspectives and perpetratpr perspectives. This way it was also possible to imagine how I would have done it, to rule the world. And so I knew, that many things were possible and many sadly true or most-likely. Because I knew, that if I was able to think this through, many before me must have been able to do the same. And therefor I knew, that it was real and that no one would listen to me because it already was almost perfect.
But I always knew, that I couldn’t be like this, wouldn’t want to be like this. I didn’t even want money from people, when I helped them with computer problems or such things. Because I simply didn’t want them to get hurt and pay for me. ME…. Since money was always something which wasn’t of much worth to me. I also did never really have much. And I knew, that I won’t be able to make much because I wouldn’t be able to work like others and wouldn’t be allowed to be and live the way I wanted to.
You know my plan A: Die as fast as possible….
And so I tried to break myself even more and didn’t care about how messed up I got, I just thought, the more the better, since I made me want to die much easier. When I was little, I still had too much will to live and love and so I knew, that I wouldn’t be able to, with all this love inside.
Last year when finally everything got so intense, all what I was hiding, ignoring, hating, doing feeling. It all came out and then I finally could kill myself. It felt so horrible on one hand, knwoing that probably in a few hours all would be over, a painful death (the way I decided to go). But on the other hand, I opened up to my trusted friend/cousin who is like my bigger brother. And he loved me anyways, after all what I had told him, about the feeling that I would want to rape, kill and whatelse do to women and after all what I did or went through and caused. Especially when it also was about his sister. Although nothing happened to her, as far as I know.
So I didn’t do it, but only because I thought, that I couldn’t let him alone now. After all what he accepted and heard from me. It was impossible for me that someone would do that. Because I didn’t see anyone around me who did that and in general not really people who were able nor willing to understand that.
You simply can’t, without a heart. And so I thought, if he can accept all of this mess that happened to me and what it made me do and what I then made out of it, then he really needs me.
He even once said, that he doesn’t want to lose me.
And I couldn’t take it serious after all. Because no one really cared for me, what I had to say, felt or could have done good. If it wasn’t fitting into religion, it was not okay. If it wasn’t fitting into science, it was not okay. If it wasn’t fitting into normal behavior, it wasn’t okay. And so I made it even worse, since I was not okay and had to be removed, destroyed and wiped out. And I knew, it would only work, when I was completely broken.
And now look at me, I fell through it. I am beyond death, but it is actually a good thing. Because now I know that this is how I felt when I was little. This feeling of being able to do anything, but actually just wanting to do good things, innocent things and just have a good time with others, support them in bad times, fight side-by-side with them and keep each other safe.
But I never really saw something like that in this so called “real” life. Just in some anime, movies and games. Where others similar to me, also tried to seek shelter, try to find purpose and hope. And tried to understand and process, why it isn’t like this, while it actually feels natural, good and warm.
I have my answers, more than I ever wanted. I know more and understand more, than a human should have to carry. I sometimes really don’t know anymore whether it is me writing, you or something else.
I just know, that I felt like this or actually better, when I was little. Depending on what better means. When I was little I had the will to live and an immense load of love, but a problem with body feelings and trauma etc. Now I have feelings again of which I might haven’t felt some before, I processed most of my trauma and past. But now I have almost no will to live anymore and it is hard to build up love again. Although I do it again and again. Because I know people, friends out there, maybe you, need it.
And as I said before, I consider myself as dead since last December. I have nothing to lose, this is still some kind of interactive “goodbye” letter, suicide note or simply me writing down my life, my knowledge or at least what I understand and learned. What I can imagine and also what I listen to, the music, what I watch and watched, played etc.
And yes… I am pretty messed up. I guess some of you still love me and this is really more I can ask for. But that actually is the thing with love. And I first had to love the “devil” or what became a devil inside me, in order to find back to who I was before all that mess. Or in moments between it. That it wasn’t my fault that it started. That it wasn’t because I was wrong, but because I was too good for this world. So I got broken into pieces until I thought, I was the prblem. But the problem isn’t you, isn’t me and our parents or grandparents also usually aren’t and weren’t. They were all broken by their parents, situations and in general those who rule this world. Usually cruel men, evil men and machine minds, cold hearts.
And this is the case to this day and when it comes to my thoughts, it could stay like this forever, if no one stops it. Because as long as we use the systems they build up, we won’t win.
It is like using a fake dice with which you can only lose, when you play by the rules. Since you got told that it isn’t fake and that you just got bad luck or something. While actually no one should role a dice. But people usually only get behind, that the dice they were given was fake, so they try to get a real one or make their own. But the dice was the problem the whole time.