Not me.

When you search answers, I can’t give you what you couldn’t find yourself.

When you search truth, you might find it overwhelmingly complex.

When you think I am someone to speak for something higher, I am not.

But only when you think that it is only me who can.

Everyone can speak for something higher and be it just a common cause, it would be higher than themselves and their own life, wishes or dreams.

To get some people together to be there for them is already something higher, since it isn’t naturally for many and also often misused by others to gain power or what they might think they gain through it.

When you can speak of something higher than so it be. Why would you limit yourself?

But you should know the difference between what you want and others need.

Since you can tell them a story to make yourself important, while in the end you are nothing more like a puppet of someone or something else or just your own greed.

I don’t like to be talking in front of many, I even fear to speak to a single soul at times. Not because I should be afraid, but because I don’t think I should say what I see or think and feel. And yet I am doing it here, doing it now in some way. I still can’t say whether it is really good what I do or not, I just don’t want to make things worse as they are, but am afraid there is almost too much wrong already.

Working through all there is makes you seem crazy, might break you apart and changes you, when you don’t know why you want to see it. By wanting to help those who might seem unwanted and lost forever, it might take you away as well.

If you just take religion, then you already have to scream.

Some pray to their local volcano, others to ghosts of ancestors.

Some say Jesus was dying on a cross and came to life again after three days, others say someone else died instead of him. Others say he might not even have been here and then they call each other sinners, while believing their are better.

And then you scream even more because you see that it all makes no sense, is pointless.

And you scream and scream, but no one hears you, all they see is a smile, maybe a grin or just a blank stare.

Then they might even think you are evil or laugh about them because you think you are better, but you know you can’t be and yet you aren’t sure what to believe, what to think or what you know.

As if you go through all there is, all by yourself while no one sees it but you.

And the more your surrounding continues to me the way it is, the more you break apart.

You should speak, you should tell them, but you can’t, you are afraid.

All they want to hear are things like: “I’m fine.”

All they want to hear: “I just had a bad day because xyz happened.” and then expect you to be better the next day.

But you go deeper and deeper and the more you walk the lesser you want to speak about it or show it. Maybe you try to through things which could be open for interpretation. To hide behind other names, other things, explanations. And then, then you lose yourself at worst and at best have yourself locked away, far, far away from everyone else. Not even you yourself sometimes know anymore where and how and who you are.

Your wish to die and just vanish grows, but would you say it, they would just think you should hang out with someone. They think a relationship might take it away. They say it, although they know it might not be true. Or they say it, because they really don’t know. Don’t know what goes on inside you and all around you and them themselves.

You scream more, not even your inner voice can keep up anymore, even your voice inside gets sore and quiet.

You give up on the screaming, no one listens anyway, there is no one who will help you. Still you hope there might be this one hand reaching you from somewhere you don’t know about. Like a story you got told or a feeling you might have had.

And then you might think it will never come, so you just give yourself a hand, as if you could lift yourself up and you keep on smiling, keep on laughing and might think that it is all just a never ending nightmare all together. You might even think you deserve it, that you caused it or made it possible. You wish you would have never been born, you want to scream again, but all there is, is just a headache, this pain in your neck, in the back of your head.

Then you see someone breaking the fourth wall, the wall behind your back, in your room, while you watch the three others in front of you, including the screen or projection from wherever it came from.

It is as if from behind it reaches you head and makes you feel not alone.

It seems that the one who made it knew something as well, that they might have felt and seen this hell.

You feel better, you feel safe, but then it stops and you are just in your room again.

You know you have to go to work again, something which makes you hurt and broke even more. You just do it because everyone does it, it seems, no choice, nothing to stop it. If I can’t do this one, I have to do another one. No choice, endless pain.

Then you want to scream yet again, although your inner voice long stopped. It might have even turned upside down, speaks in a language you don’t even know. Maybe it isn’t even a language, just random words, numbers, pictures? The fly around, the haunt you, but what should you do about them? You have seen it all long ago, you know that they could be there or not. You know that you know nothing and everything somehow. But then you can’t even do your work, so you must be just a lost cause. When does it end?

You want to make it stop. All you are is a misery for yourself and everyone else.

All you do is hiding or scaring them, hurting them.

All the songs, all the voices say that they are lost it seems, you can’t know that it is just what you shall think.

At the bottom of it all, you are in the abyss. You see others on the edge, want to tell them to go away, but you voice isn’t there. Instead you might just say: “It’s fine. I am fine.” But no one recognizes it anyway. And should somehow another word get through, you get reminded that you just said you were fine. So you can’t be feeling something else.

You climb up these walls so many times and fell down again each time. Sometimes you were just hanging there and holding on. Or standing on a small platform soon to fall down with you.

You began to think that you might have to do more or something, that you might even be all there is. As if only you existed and made yourself go away. As if the universes eat themselves and all Gods take their own lives.

Then you think that you might just play with yourself, as if you were bored, but it can’t be, can it?

It doesn’t matter anymore to you, you hurt yourself. Nothing changes.

Still you do it, again and again. At some point losing consciousness.

Dreaming, hallucinating?

You wake up again, covered in blood, but for some reason you live or whatever it is, but you seem to be in your body.

And you rush to stop the bleeding. Something with enough pressure… something with enough pressure…

Where do I have something to stop this!

You take some clothes and bind them around the wounds and put something between them. seemed like a pack pills or was it a box for photo film?

The bleeding seemed to have stopped.

You look around there is blood everywhere, like in some kind of slaughter house or a gore movie.

You just fall asleep and get into all kinds of thoughts and images again.

Hundreds of people, playing, laughing, but you just stand there and watch them, walk through them as if they weren’t there. No… as if you weren’t there.

You walk and walk and then you fall down a bridge and white light, darkness.

You wake up again. Thoughts still rushing through your mind.

But you are calm, calmer than you should be.

And you are sweating a little.

I am lost… I am lost… It is my fault…

A scream, for the first time you hear a scream.

You are terrified, where did it come from?

No one there…

Then again.

And you realize you are screaming.

It is your own voice, your mouth half open in the mirror and you scream.

You scream towards yourself.

Someone knocks at the door.

“Hello, is everything alright?”

No, you must have imagined it, no one does that. No one comes.

Someone walks away.

See, you knew it wasn’t real. You decided that it wasn’t.

Your face forms into an evil grin again and you begin to laugh.

Afraid of yourself you laugh, as if you were endlessly satisfied.

You just laugh and laugh and fall down over you own half-dry blood on the floor.

One of the bandages seemed to have changed position. Some blood came out again of the almost closed wound. You laugh even more. You can’t stop laughing. Why can’t you stop laughing… WHY CAN’T IT STOP?!

Then you panic, you are shaking. You feel like an animal. You are shaking.

You stop laughing, at least you don’t seem to have control over it anymore, don’t hear it anymore.

In the mirror or glassy reflection of a window, you see a big grin on your face, although you feel like dying… no, you are dying. You want to scream and cry again, but you only smile and smile away.

Your skin is pale, almost as pale as chlorine drained paper.

It seems funny somehow, that you could get pale without it.

Then you doze out.

You wake up in a hospital bed.

Someone stands next to you.

“Nurse! Doctor! She is waking up!”

A female figure yelling across the room, you can’t see much.

You just see her standing there, yelling as if it was about life or death.

You seem to remember the voice.

No… it can’t be. No… nooo… you just imagined it.

Why does it sound so familiar?

Tears drop down your face.

It burns and hurts. It hurts… why does it h… you can feel again.

Everything hurts so immense all of a sudden.

You make a moaning sound, although the pain feels as if you should scream like hell.

It doesn’t matter anyway, you think and smile.

“God, you are alive… I am so glad you are alive.”

The woman said towards her with a worried, but charming and calming look and a softly worried, but relieved voice.

More tears run down your face, you are sobbing and can’t stop.

You don’t want this feeling to ever stop again.

You are just sobbing as if it was all there was.

The woman holds your hand and lays her other hand on your shoulder.

“It is alright. Everything will be okay.”

But you know that it can’t be, yet you are sobbing and don’t want this feeling to stop.

She doesn’t know what happened, you can’t tell her. They will lock you away.

The woman is still there.

You didn’t even notice the doctor on the other side, until she touch your arm. It felt weird, but you didn’t care anymore.

When will it all stop… when…

Somehow this woman makes it seem so easy, as if there would be nothing to worry about.

The girl you are yourself, you know she might have gone through some things as well. But it can’t be like this. Is she even real or is it just another dream, your imagination again? Is she here because you wanted it to make yourself feel even worse afterwards? To fool yourself?

The woman seemed to have sensed your worries through your emotionless face, although it seemed not like it anymore. But all the times before you also thought they would see, but all you had was this smile.

“Sweetheart, you hurt lovely child… You never have to go back there again. Never!”

You don’t even know what she meant. Where? And why was it that she shall never go there again? Does it even matter where she is? It is all pointless anyway. All just in her head, all just she, all herself… a nightmare.

“Now rest a little, just rest until we get you back on your feet. I will come back as fast as I can and in the mean time the nurse will take good care of you! I made sure of that.”

You don’t even know anymore, you don’t know what to think or say. You just look at her, some snot hanging out of your nose.

When all of natures flowers die, where is point of it all.

I am not sure what it might have given you, this writing of mine.

I just know that I cried and am crying now as well.

As if it was me, as if it was you in this story I wrote.

A part of me for sure, maybe a part of you.

Maybe without the blood, maybe without the woman.

As if no one cared, no one knew or everyone was feeling the same, making it pointless to care for just another one who suffers as well.

You are welcome, who ever you might be, as I am not more than you, probably less.

Only nature can safe me now, all I wanted, all the time.

And now I stand here and seem to have to help it myself, while I barely stand on my feet.

Together we fall, we stand and cry out in sorrow.

Let us not wait until the day after tomorrow.

We are meant to live.

Let us live.