Grotesque thoughts on December 10th 2009

For minutes I’ve been looking at this picture of a downward spiral. After a while, I got this feeling that the spiral was about to slap me hard in the face. It looks very scary, but I cannot help being curious. My mind is in a very dangerous state, where it is tempted to risk anything, anything that may cause thrill or excitement but may end badly. The interest is there, but it does not mean that I’m going to submit myself to anything in particular. I’ve missed out way too much which is why I’m being haunted by those temptations. I don’t remember having made a pact with the devil, but he seems to know what I want. This must be the reason why each night I look under my bed before I go to sleep. I know, I am not a four year old anymore, but currently, I am suffering from the fears of a four-year-old. It started this summer…you know the story. I always hated mind games played by people and now my own mind has started to play games with me. Sometimes I get the impression that I myself do not want to know anything about myself. Recently, I have been feeling this inner calmness which truly is scaring the hell out of me, because it’s so tense. The core of my body is ablaze and it has started to control my nerves. Often I close my eyes and I see the core, which is yellow, very bright yellow. I hate the colour yellow; therefore I don’t know why this colour is buried inside me at all. How do you call a person who is unable to get things done right and seems to be doing one mistake after the other? Give me one good word to describe that person. My performance at work is ragged. My boss describes me as stress-free, but she doesn’t know that I get panic attacks right at the till when serving people. I get trouble breathing, trouble thinking straight. Nervousness, hectic and social anxiety are the reasons, but I am working anyway. And people don’t notice a single thing on the outside. They think I am orange juice on the inside, but the truth is – the core of my body is grease fire. For years I’ve been wondering how to extinguish it. The hole is still deep, it is still dark. I need to learn to breathe; even babies can do it. Fatigue told me that it was going to suit itself. But I chose to carry on working anyway, even though I am neglecting my creativity, my novel(s) and my own personal peace of mind. It feels like having enabled the self destruct button. All the things I am just don’t match. No, I cannot elaborate. I cannot define paradox in relation to me as a human being. I am too neutral and too prejudiced at the same time, it’s horrendous. Despite my many misogynistic views, I stand by my own gender, but I also encourage men to stand up for themselves and to keep their pride, which is why certain women will hate me forever. (Taken women.) When these women feel threatened by me, I laugh. I am terrible like that. It’s just ridiculous. You are doomed to be free, so here you are for fuck’s sake… Give people room and privacy. No single minute should be wasted on jealousy or the fear that he or she might not love you anymore. In the worst case, you can always find something better to do. You want to choose to die like Hemingway, Woolf or Cobain? Whatever, but don’t do it at the wrong time and place and avoid dying like Socrates. Try some fun first before doing anything you’ll regret. Now you might say it’s terrible of me to talk like that, but I am pro-choice, so what do you want from me? I am not encouraging people to do anything. What I am saying is: Life is in your hands and so is death. That’s it. I’m wondering how many people are going to misunderstand me this time. Do you finally hate me now? I fucking hope so.

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