Random rambling on a cold rainy day in May – Time of the Taurus

Every time I try to give my mum something, I seem to fail miserably.  It ends up her not wanting it, insisting on NOT wanting it, not knowing what to do with what I have to give, as it’s just not important to her, not important to have… It makes me just wanna throw everything away and just wait till I earn a lot of money and simply transfer three quarter of it to her and dad’s account and that’ll be it. Though, after all, I know her biggest fear; all parents’ biggest fear. I just don’t know what the deal is at the moment. I know what stresses her out, I know what she is fed up with, and I would like to say I know everything; everything that’s going on inside her heart, but I don’t, I just feel it; I feel it with all my other troubles on top of it. And my problem is: That’s a little too much to handle. There is this little Pandora of hers that I don’t dare to open, not to mention ask about it. I don’t know if I can cope with it. She’s the most important person in the world to me and I seem to know shit all about her. She just makes me feel what she feels. I am not too sure what she wants from me and expects from me, but at least I know what I expect from myself.

I have this feeling something’s not right with me – concerning my health. Allergy seems to be a big issue here. It comes and goes, I never know when. Food allergy, hay fever, dog allergy, it can be anything. My lips are constantly blue. I get skin rash and seem to lose control over my dermatitis. It can’t be that cold in the middle of spring. I don’t know. The reason why autumn is my favourite season is because I love the smell of left over summer fading in the air. Spring is nice, but I just can’t seem to shake off the chilly breeze that winter has left me with. Everything I touch turns to ice or slips away. I’m even scared of buying flowers on Mother’s Day, because I have this feeling that something is going to go wrong again. Let’s assume I buy her flowers and the moment I want to hand them to her, she’ll be busy cleaning. Sister and I are also planning to get some Sushi takeaway for her for dinner. But what if something comes in between again as usual when we or I want to do something special to surprise her? That woman is unpredictable!

My new ID has arrived. The first thing I looked at was the expiry date, which is 2020. If I am not wrong, I will be around 35 by then. Then I wonder how that shitface with freckles will look like by then.  2020 – What a fucking joke! I shall pretend I lost it, so I can have a new one done. I feel like I’m aging twice as fast. The more you are aware of your surroundings, the more you realize what the fuck you are doing and you’re unable to make friends with yourself. You just live together in the same body. I still haven’t figured out whether I am an egoist or an altruist. Apparently you cannot be both. I shall say FUCKYOU then. Or it might sound better to you, if I put it this way: I’m a giving egoist or you may also say a self-centred altruist. It’s not indecisiveness – but the truth. This is what I am. I do a lot for you and everyone, but in the end it doesn’t matter to me. Thing is I know what you deserve and I give you what you deserve, but please don’t cry, if I decide to leave after having done the job.

Not long I realized that I, as a WRITE-handed person, do everything else with my left. Ok, I hold my chopsticks with my WRITE and move the mouse with my WRITE, but I play badminton, I cut fruits and salad with my left. And when cutting meat, playing tennis or bowling, I usually struggle – I just don’t know which hand can do it better. That’s why I suck at those three.

Sometimes I have no idea what I am writing; everything flows just like this, I don’t pay attention to punctuations and spelling, not tonight anyway. What do you think Microsoft Office Word is for, eh? This is the reason why I am not much of a talker. I get paranoid in discussion rounds, even though inside of me things go crazy, as if I had thousands of opinions, but none of them are appropriate and expressible. I get devoured by people’s scary stares, because I know they want to hear something. That’s when I usually get my blackouts. And because they don’t get a single answer, they’ll get all curious.

Will it be wrong to open that bottle that I never opened in Lübeck?

I wonder what my former self from the life I had before had asked for this life. I wonder whether I’ve already paid for all my bad.

Every time I read his four year old note in my wallet, I wonder if he ever thinks about me. It was written in blue ink. He always uses a fountain pen. I’m sure he still does. My wallet got wet once, so my name has nearly faded. I miss him call out my name. One day he will recognize me first in public and I will hear my name out of his mouth again.

I’m losing the plot here, I guess. So that’s why I write, you see? That’s why I don’t talk, as talking leads me towards the wrong path – the disaster path for instance. If you are a man and manage to get me talk over six hours straight, then you must be worth it. In the end I can only hope that you’re not already in love with someone else. Or at least tell me about it before we chat, so I can learn not to have hopes up, you see, form attachment and such.

I’m unhappy with my eating habit.

We all have guilty conscience; nothing but guilt to propel our lives. But eventually we end with an epiphany. It’s all about fiction baby. If you’re a dirty realist, get out of my way. You’re ugly and your breath stinks. I am a fan of imagination and not of your mundane routine.

We all know nature is indeterministic. It’s random. And so are we. So tell your God to put his hand off me. Before someone tells me he loves, I have to love myself first. Just for the matter of understanding, you see. My anger outbreaks are a reflection of the way I see myself; the way I am to myself and of course this means I’m far from what I intend to do. Usually we all know what’s good for us and for the loved ones around us, but it’s too much of a hassle, so we pretend we see beauty in nothingness. What attracted me about nothingness is the peace. I’ve had a 3 second recovery process which was wonderful.

Why do people have to brag when they go voting? It’s an ordinary thing to do, like going to the exam and form your own opinion. If you don’t vote, it’s an opinion, too – it indicates that you believe that there’s something else that can make the world better. So you have to make the effort to achieve it. But if you can’t be fucking bothered, you just go vote and let others do the job. But if you just sit on your arse and watch – Die. It’s your fault if the world remains the way it is.

So Britain has turned more Conservative. I don’t know whether I want to go back at all. I mean, I am only in love with the language and nothing else. Oh and the independence that I had.

We’re already in war with nature. We always have been. We will lose. Not even America will succeed. At least not only Germany will feel guilty about this war. Denmark produces most litter in entire Europe. How embarrassing for a dot of a country.

Open bottle or not.

Why am I so rude?

I need holidays in June. This time without internet and phone. Without you.

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