Sometimes I look back on the flow of conversations in my texts, and I am astonished to find that my side of the conversation is significantly larger than theirs. What a sad indicator of who really needs whom in each friendship.
Es macht nix was mit uns oder sonst ihnen passiert, ich werd ihm nie vergeben, denn er hat sie mir geraubt. Hass trag ich selten, aber er sitzt heiß in meinem Herzen, denn er hat meinen Sonnenschein von mir gestohlen, und jetzt lieg ich hier im Dunkeln weinend. Das Glück ist von mir weit entfernt, wenn es für mich noch geben werde.
The “We” Before “I”
I am not a lost soul looking for redemption,
I am not a saint searching for sin.
I carry my weight with my feet and thighs
But I acknowledge my position in the world:
Not a singular entity like a star,
Shining onwards beautiful rays that beam brightly
But must travel lightyears before reaching others of its kind.
I am rather a ship of a fleet.
I raise my own sails, hold my own crew,
My ability to float and move forward is my responsibility alone.
My position is important and I hold on tightly,
But I am defined by my band of boats
For without me they’re missing a necessary piece of the whole;
For without them I am but a meaningless arrangement of dust.
So we sail onwards, each man carrying his own rags.
Though our crews are different, we sail the same flag.
These strawberries look
But I won’t eat them.
I sit with an empty pen at 2:30 in the morning,
Feeling empty, reinterpreting my past
And believing always that the terrible things that happened
In my life are all my fault, and mine alone.
But I sit and listen on my phone to a song
Written in a music style I’ve never liked before
Saying “There’s seven billion forty-seven million people
And I have the audacity to think I matter.”*
Do I matter? My world view is shaken by this idea.
It’s shallow, it’s ignorant, it’s self-centered,
It’s … … … … … … … … Comforting.
As if all it would take is a little push
To get me out of this pothole that my tires are trapped in.
Sure, it’s only temporary on this undoubtedly
Broken, tattered, and lacerated road,
But even in the temporariness comes a chance,
An open window, an interval of time dedicated
To giving myself a second chance at the inner peace
That I’ve been denying myself for two whole years.
*(“Tiny Glowing Screens Pt 2” by George Watsky)
Strong, heavy, polite, kind;
Truthful, delightful, always on time.
Successful, busy, loving and caring,
True to the One and not always staring.
Fuck that shit, I ain’t got time,
I won’t waste my life to be the perfect guy.
Don’t want to be nice, don’t want to be stern,
I just want to be me on my own terms.
I pray that I never repeat you.
I hope I can forget you.
Too much sin just to survive
After half a year or so of so much pain.
Too much alcohol, internet, lies.
All these things leave a permanent stain.
New Year, spent filled with rage,
Felt replaced, threw my phone at the wall.
January till August was a reliving phase.
Sometimes I didn’t believe in myself at all.