Farewell to arms, legs and head

I’ve been wanting to fly – fly into someone’s arms whilst listening to one of my favourite songs in the background, such as “bug eyes” by Dredg. That someone might as well be mute, because I don’t feel like talking at all. I can communicate with him through writing. Many men don’t like that, but well I do. It gives you time to think and you can avoid saying something stupid or anything that’s wrong. I’m not often up for spontaneity, you know. So far this year, I’ve only had one worthwhile conversation. In writing, you can create something perfect, something that comes deeply from the heart. Not many people understand that. Many want to talk on the fucking phone. I just like surprise calls that are short and sweet, but that doesn’t happen often. Phone’s the most impersonal thing ever for me. I only use the phone in cases of emergency, nothing else. I’m lucky that people don’t tend to call me.

Ok the song’s over and I’m still in no one’s arms…

Weird is that because of this, I seem to want to be alone even more. How contradicting it sounds, I just want everyone to get the fuck out of my way and leave me in peace. It’s not just that I don’t feel like talking; I also find it hard to listen to what you say and it always takes me a while to take it all in. I do listen after all. However I don’t have much to say lately and it often takes me days to respond to a conversation which is 2 days old. And I only respond when it means something to that person, preferably in writing. If not, then what the fuck ever. Who cares. Write me an email instead and you’ll get a response for sure. I feel bent. Maybe that’s the problem. Simply on the verge of not caring anymore. I have become so insensitive. Soon people will hate me for that.

At the moment I’m reading “The Body” by Stephen King – the story which the film “Stand By Me” was based on. At the very beginning Gordie Lachance writes something about how ridiculous it is to tell a secret. All because people you tell this to won’t understand you the way you want them to. They’d just look at you funny and wonder what the hell is wrong with you. And this makes the secret less special and it loses meaning.

This is my response to those who have problems to evaluate me. However, I don’t see what the difficulty is, I mean I tell you so much about myself. You should be able to read me now (I’ll kill you if you do that, you hear).

I seem to start reading so many books lately without finishing them. I don’t seem to understand William Faulkner in “As I Lay Dying”, Jack Kerouac is boring me with “Big Sur” and Anais Nin’s erotic short stories are starting to put me off, because one story is about a Lesbian threesome and this doesn’t fit with my misogynistic views.

But today I went to the library before work and I found out that Marco Weiss wrote a book, which I immediately read.
Last year I told you about this 17 year old German boy who went on holiday to Turkey with his family. He got to know a teenage English girl who had lied to him about being 15 years of age, even though she was just 13. She had tried to get him to bed, but he had refused. She then took it personally and told her parents that he had sexually abused her. Her mother had immediately pressed charges against Marco. So Marco had to go to jail for the time being. It was proven that the girl was still a virgin, though, but the girl’s mother still didn’t give up. Nonetheless, there was no evidence and Marco’s trial constantly got delayed. A few months later the girl finally did a statement, but she was describing how Marco had been abusing her. So eventually he had spent 8 months in Turkish prison, because he couldn’t prove himself right. However, this case got tedious and last summer Marco finally got sent home (, even though the case is not over yet).

This is a very very short version of the whole story. I stood by this boy because I know what underage teenage girls in England can be like (call me bias then!). German kids/teenagers aren’t as mature as the English kids. German kids are more childlike and more inexperienced. And Marco was just like that with 17. He already “came” when that girl had tried to open his trousers. Who else is man enough to admit such an embarrassing incident?!

Well, what I’m driving at is the fact that people asked him how he feels about that girl now, whether he hated her for what she did. And you know what he said? He said no.
Then people also asked him whether this had changed his view on girls in general. And again he said no. In fact, he is now happily taken.
I couldn’t believe it when I read that he didn’t hate her. That little slut took 8 months of his life! Another question was: What would you do if you saw her again?
Marco said that he would simply ignore her.
I have no comment on that. Simply because Marco had found God and I know religious people tend to forgive. I’m not religious and I don’t see a point in forgiving, even if it’s going to haunt me. So does this make me a bad person?

Right now I’m staring at my bookshelf – staring at a particular book. It is “A farewell to arms” by Hemingway. It has been in my shelf for years now and I still haven’t read it. And something is telling me to do it.

I feel so exhausted. I don’t even want to think anymore or care about anyone’s business. It’s so hard to stay out of it though, because people put you straight in without you wanting it. And then you start to wonder why I want to keep distance. I’m still dealing with this head and heart thing, so don’t disturb me.

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