entfall @ 2009-04-25T14: 07:00
I do not know what ever happened to me. Feel extremely uncomfortable in my skin, cold to me and I want to throw up, the red tiles or hew me with stuff.
am I probably just on a desperate search for some maintenance, but there is no, if I give it to me, can not itself, which to me from dehydrating reason simply will not succeed so well.
Since these are still abysmal phases complete (meaning) emptiness and weariness of life, which I afterwards so it never understand, and therefore no one can make them understand, but for that moment nothing seems clearer to me urgently and as this overwhelming Melancholy.
It 's also the same thing over and over again, I write and think and the same old stuff, the situations feel constantly obey the same sequence, the people appear in the same continuous refinements, the expectations and demands me and requirements for the same to a fulfilling life design continues throughout and still inspire in me every time a choking vomit on the mental and physical level.
Always this eternally recurring cycles and then I will get lost all hope that it still change at some point, that there are something else new, could exist even at all. All equally valid.
miserable monotony that is as viscous caustic poison through the veins of digging and drilling in heart and brain, apathetic listlessness and then sometimes I forget how much it rips inside, up to a moment of sudden quiet solitude, where I fail suddenly the nerves, drained and exhausted to the core, deep resignation and pain me like a wave roll over me and everything is just too exhausting still escapes me once again and all blankly is for me.
Especially after a bad night sleep, full of confused and overwhelmed dreams that make you curious with that inner and outer slides back into the trembling guard, then stares blankly at the ceiling and the reasons ü unreflected to get up, I love this state.
I can not even bring myself to capture the flood of images on canvas dreamed anything hinzustümpern on guitar or me finally closely about the Freudian idea of death or Destruktivitätstriebes (all of which I push for ages before me) - Although even that would be so very important to me.
Anyway, I must pull myself together (if I could only give me even a little heat this time.)
How has it formulated my favorite alcoholic goes: One should simply not only think about what you have now pleasure, whether you do it now, will if that will make fun, just have the brain empty, sit down and durchzieh'n the shit.
displacing push away, behold even if it's even more (not) works.
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