My sleeping routine has changed again. Bedtime is not between five and six a.m. anymore, but between three and four a.m. Nothing is ever regular with me. At least, I tend to listen to my body more than ever now. It knows what’s good for me. My head and heart are exhausted. But 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 because I eat fruits in the morning. But I feel better this way. I used to eat fruits straight after dinner, which you’re not supposed to. You’ll feel more bloated, and digestion will take a lot longer. I don’t know why the Chinese do that. At least by eating fruits in the morning, I’m detoxifying my body. The diarrhea is a sign that I’m cleansing my body.
It’s proven that if you eat fruits on an empty stomach, you’ll feel lighter.
Imagine I explain this to my parents. They won’t listen.
Of course, my parents grew up differently. All they do is pass on what they had learned to my sister and me. I suppose my mum knows me. She has always known that I won’t ever be like her and dad. Whatever happens, I will always make my own decisions.
I hate receiving help from people that I don’t trust.
My parents made me go to the job centre today to sign up for unemployment benefits to finance my health insurance. I HATE the job centre; it’s full of wankers. They judge you from the start without knowing you. They talk to you like you’re a loser. They think that you do shit-all to support yourself. The ugly advisor woman I spoke to literally said, “We will force you to find a job!” Her eyes were glaring at me 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 meant it. She is forcing me to see a career 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.
When I returned to Germany in 2007, I should’ve known and realised that it was a mistake. If shit hadn’t hit the fan in the spring of 2007, I would have probably stayed in England. I still remember the relief I felt when I was on the plane back to Hamburg. I did miss home. But I didn’t know that I’d have to go through this. What is home? It has nothing new to show me. I feel like I’m going backwards. I should’ve known that I wouldn’t be progressing. It’s like going back to 2001 when I finished school in Germany.
Yes, I regret coming 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 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 no good for me career-wise. Being home is the reversal of everything I’d done in England.
I know it’s too late to worry about things like that. Regrets don’t work. I know it myself.
Sometimes I’m uncontrollably honest that I don’t notice I’m offensive. I almost wrote something very offensive, and I’m glad that I can shut up; otherwise, the world would go down.
But this is not the time. I’m not through yet. Some of my thoughts and attitudes are so heinous that I don’t want to share them, not even with my black book.
Oh, look who’s back.
Welcome head.
Welcome heart.
Have a fair fight.
