The reversal of process

The sleeping routine has changed again. Bedtime is not between 5 and 6am anymore, but between 3 and 4am. Nothing is ever regular with me. I tend to listen to my body more than ever now. I think it knows what’s better for me than I do. My head and my heart seem to be over exhausted and I don’t seem to hear anything from them right now. My stomach is in control and I trust it. It told me to prepare a bowl of fruits for breakfast this morning, which I did and enjoyed. My mum called me crazy for eating fruits in the morning. I simply said “Leave me alone”. I feel better this way. I used to eat fruits straight after dinner, which you are not supposed to do. You’ll feel more bloated and heavier and the digestion takes a lot longer. Now when eating fruits for breakfast I feel so much lighter. Imagine I explain this to them. They won’t listen. They grew up differently and they attempted to pass, what they had learnt throughout their own adolescence, to me and my sister. I guess my mum knows me. She has always known that I won’t ever be like her and dad. And that whatever happens I will always have my own way of deciding what’s good for me.

I hate receiving help. I hate receiving help from people that I don’t trust. My parents made me go to the jobcentre today to sign up for unemployment benefit, in order to finance my health insurance. I fucking HATE the jobcentre, which is full of wankers. They judge you from the start without knowing you. You can already hear how they’re calling you a “loser”, “good-for-nothing”, “suckup” and “wreck” from the inside. They think that you do shitall to support yourself. Evil bastards. The ugly disabled advisor woman I spoke to literally said “We are going to force you to find a job!” Her eyes were glaring at me whilst she said that, as if she was about to stab me. Goddamn bitch. If it hadn’t been for my parents’ sake, I’d have NEVER gone there. Well, so she used the word “force” and she did mean it seriously. She is forcing me to see a career’s advisor every fortnight and I’ll probably have to accept any job that will be available. It’s the only way so they’ll agree to finance my health insurance – by putting pressure on me.

The moment I had entered Germany again in 2007, I should’ve known and realised that it was a mistake. If not so much shit had happened in the spring of 2007, I would have had less reason to leave England. I still remember the relief I had felt when I was on the plane back to Hamburg. I did miss it. But I didn’t know that it was not going to do me any good. It had nothing to show me, except familiar scenery. I should’ve known that everything would go back to normal, as if I had gone back to 2001 again.

Yes, I regret for having come back. I feel similar to Lugosi who had turned down the role of playing Frankenstein. The biggest regret that he would never forget. But I don’t regret for having met wonderful people in my home country in the last couple of years. And I don’t regret being with my family, except that being home is doing me no good. Being home is the reversal of a process.
I know it’s too late to worry about things like that. Regrets don’t work. I fucking know it myself.

I am sorry, sometimes I’m so uncontrollably honest that I don’t even notice that I am being very offensive. I almost wrote something very offensive and I’m glad that I’m able to shut up, otherwise the world would go down.

But this is not the time. I’m not through, yet. Some thoughts and attitudes of mine are so heinous that I do not dare to share them, not even with my black book.

Oh look who’s back. Welcome head. Welcome heart. Have a good fair fight.

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