What I am about to say might sound very egocentric and I apologize for that but sometimes I feel so weird about the fact that people I once knew but lost contact with don’t simply seize to exist. I mean in my book I am the protagonist and the author wrote about them and then just stopped and began another storyline and suddenly they reappear and the protagonist has no idea how to react to that.

The person I used to be seems so far away. It feels like a stranger I once saw on the street and we looked each other in the eye and then passed by, walked our different ways. Maybe even passing through each other and maybe for a moment it felt like we were one just so we would wake up alone on the floor with a horrible headache and a sore throat that following day.
I can’t say I really miss my former self, I didn’t really give it a chance to become my friend or made any effort whatsoever to become theirs. But sometimes my stomach sinks a little bit when I realize there’s this person I could have become who just disappeared into the crowd again, into oblivion maybe.

I should sleep. I only have two hours of sleep left. But I can’t because the day was weird and I feel weird and I feel weird about having to work tomorrow morning and I won’t be able to eat anything until 4:00 or 5:00pm. Someone shoot me, srsly.

I feel like I should feel something, yet I don’t feel much.

"You cannot feed your children happy thoughts."
- Edgar Allan Poe

und sobald man aufhört Dinge von sich wegzuschieben und zu verdrängen fängt es an wieder wehzutun

I am not a feminazi like the girls who think it’s okay to break a guy’s nose because he said something disrespectful regarding women or their rights. I am not a feminazi, but I am a feminist. And the funny thing about equality of men and women is that seemingly many men don’t see - or don’t want to see? - that inequality still exists. It’s funny because of all the people I spoke to about the topic, it has always been males who said that said that don’t see in which points women are treated differently.. Don’t get me wrong I am thankful for all the things feminism has made possible for me as a female and what kinds of fates the feminists of our history have saved me from. But there are still things in society I can’t accept as the female that I am.

I have never been angry or disappointed with people who are confident about who they are or even just how they look.
I just envy them because they seem to have their lives together and they seem to know where their lives are heading and I am still not so sure about who I really am, who I want to be nor how I want people to perceive my whole being.
It’s like I have always let others decide how I am.
And now I am heading towards an unknown destination without a compass or a map. Hopelessly hopeful.

love hurts
that is why it is called falling in love
and not sitting down and having a nice cup of tea in love

I actually enjoy looking at pictures of dead animals. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like to see anyone or any animal suffer. I never did. I don’t enjoy the fact they died or anything like that. I have been vegetarian for almost 7 years now, trying my best to be vegan and I am completely against cruelty towards any living creature. Plus I am not referring to pictures of animals ripped apart or hit by a train or whatever.
I mean those pictures in which you can simply see a bird lying in someone’s hand or on the ground with its eyes closed, things like that. It just shows the peace death can bring to every creature.
And that is a really beautiful thing in my opnion.

I am not sure if I can face these demons yet.
I am not sure if I can really say these things out loud.

There are days like today when I feel such a deep emptiness inside myself that I could easily fall into that black hole that I just don’t know how to fill nor close in any way. It’s that sharp sadness that bites in my eyes and makes them shed their tears all over the hands that are trying to hide their disfunction. I fail to find the ability of explaining the reasons because I might not want to know myself. My arms are starving for a friendly touch, yet I feel so fragile that every touch could easily shatter me. I don’t know how function anymore.

Sometimes it seems to me that everything that matters in today’s society is sex and the way a person looks. I find that saddening.

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