Every time I try to give my mum something, I seem to fail miserably. It ends up with her not wanting it, insisting on NOT wanting to keep it. She doesn’t know what to do with what I give her, as if it’s not relevant for her to have it. It makes me want to throw everything away and wait till I make enough money to pay back my debt. After all, I know her and dad’s biggest fear is all related to finances. I don’t know what the deal is at the moment. I know what stresses her out, and I’d like to tell her it’s all in her head; everything will be OK. I feel it too, with all my other troubles on top of it.
And my problem is: That’s a little too much to handle. There’s this little Pandora of hers that I don’t dare to open, not to mention, ask about it. I don’t think I can handle it. She’s the most important person in the world to me, and I seem to know shit about her. She makes me feel what she feels. Yet, I’m not sure what she expects from me, but I know what I expect from myself.
I have this feeling something’s not right with my health. I have allergies that come and go; I never know when. Food allergy, hay fever, dog allergy, it can be anything. My lips are always blue. I get skin rashes and seem to have lost control over my dermatitis. It can’t be that cold in the middle of spring—I don’t know.
Autumn is my favourite season because I love the smell of leftover summer fading in the air. Spring is pleasant, but I can’t shake off the chilly breeze that winter has left behind.
Everything I touch turns to ice or slips away. I’m scared of buying flowers on Mother’s Day because I feel something will 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 dinner. But what if something will ruin our special surprise for her? That woman is unpredictable!
My new ID card has arrived. I looked at the expiry date, indicating 2020. If I am not wrong, I will be around 35 by then. I wonder how that freckled shitface will look 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 ageing twice as fast.
The more you know your surroundings, the more you realize how impossible it is to sort your head out. You exist in the same body. I still haven’t figured out whether I’m an egoist or an altruist. Apparently, you can’t be both. To put it this way: I’m a giving egoist, or you may also say a self-centred altruist. That’s 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. I know what you deserve; I give you what you deserve, but please don’t cry if I leave after doing my job.
As a WRITE-handed person, I do everything else with my left. Okay, I hold my chopsticks with my WRITE and move the mouse with my WRITE. However, I play badminton and cut fruits and salad with my left. And when cutting meat, playing tennis or bowling, I usually struggle – I don’t know which hand can do it better. Am I confused?
Sometimes I have no idea what I’m writing about; it just flows as it does. I’m not paying attention to punctuation and spelling tonight. What else is Microsoft Office is for? This is why I’m not much of a talker. I get paranoid in discussions, everything inside me goes crazy, and I don’t know which opinion to choose. Still, none of them are appropriate or expressible. I get devoured by people’s scary stares because I know they want to hear something. That’s when I get my blackouts.
Is it wrong to open that bottle that I never opened in Lübeck?
I wonder what my former self had asked for this life. I wonder whether I’ve paid all my dues.
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 calling out my name. One day he will recognize me first in public, and I will hear him call for me again.
I’m losing the plot here. That’s why I’m writing. I’m trying not to let my mind slip. I don’t talk, as talking leads me to the wrong path – a disaster path. If you are a man and get me to talk for six hours, you’ll be worth it. In the end, I will hope that you’re not already in love with someone, as this happens too often. I’m usually just a distraction or option B. Just tell me your marital status before we chat or tell me if you love someone. Tell me your star sign. So I know when not to have my hopes up.
I’m unhappy with my eating habit.
We all feel guilty; guilt propels our lives. But we finish our stories with an epiphany. Fiction gives you that satisfaction. If you’re a dirty realist, I don’t think we’ll get on. You’re ugly, and your breath stinks.
We all know nature is indeterministic. It’s random. And so are we. Tell your God to put his hand off me.
Before someone tells me he loves me, I have to love myself first, just for the sake of understanding myself. My anger outbreaks reflect the way I see myself, the way I treat myself, and therefore, I’m far from fixing my inadequacies.
We usually all know what’s good for us, but it’s not an easy route, so we pretend we see the beauty in what’s empty. What attracted me to nothingness is peace. I had a three-second recovery process, which was wonderful.
Why do people have to brag when they go voting? It’s an ordinary thing to do, like writing an exam where you express your opinion with references. Not voting is also a form of opinion – it indicates that you believe in something else. But you’re on your own. If you vote, you put your faith in others to do the job. Whatever you do, don’t just sit on your arse. It’ll your fault if the world remains the way it is.
Britain has turned more Conservative. Which country hasn’t? I don’t know whether I want to go back at all. I mean, I’m only in love with the English language, accent and how easy it is to connect with the Brits. Oh, and the independence that I had. The life of a graduate woman. I won’t ever forget this time.
We’re already at war with nature. We always have been, and we will lose.
Not even America will win. At least not only Germany will feel guilty about this war. Denmark produces the most litter in entire Europe. How embarrassing for a dot of a country.
An open bottle or not.
Why am I so rude?
I need a holiday in June. This time without the internet and phone. Without you.
