Ghosts Of The Past


Technically, I do write these pieces in the morning. Just on a VERY early morning. It’s probably mainly a question of perspective. Independent of that, I have a clear plan for tonight. Aha, now it is night after all? Sssh! I want to continue talking to myself in peace. Ahem. Anyway, today I will put more emphasis on getting enough sleep. For some unknown reason ( well, I drank too much and didn’t feel really good in general) this was hardly possible during the last days. So it’s high time for that to change. It’s also really annoying. Alicia will stop by later. That will be good, I think. Haven’t seen each other for several months. A lot has happened since then. I move along a steady downward spiral towards the abyss and lack the adequate abilities to stop this process. Sooner or later, it will happen. After all: My Dota skills have improved rapidly. If this continues, there will be sufficient time for a professional career. Joke. It would be cool, but it’s also kind of pretty hard unrealistic. On the other hand, the distraction of gambling probably saved me from completely losing it. The fact that many hours a day my complete focus is external made it possible for me to keep my presence of mind and not to go crazy every day. Lifehack: When the mind is busy with other tasks, it lacks the capacity to remember why it should feel like shit. Aren’t I simply incomprehensibly wise? Heavy shit. Someone like me should urgently write a book and share his own ingenuity with others. Oh, wait…damn. Foolish. This pseudoarrogance, offensively displayed, somehow doesn’t work as well as it used to. Well, back then everything was somehow easier. I was the arrogant prick, who didn’t care about anything and who made it through life anyway. Now I’m just confused. Disoriented on an ocean of nothing. By the way, I was right. I posted this as a statement on Facebook and collected a few likes. People are so predictable. I don’t even really blame them. After all, it’s exactly what you expect – as humans. But there are simply no surprises. The interaction with most people has become so boring. Unexpected or extreme things hardly happen anymore. But wasn’t that what I always wanted? A bit more stability and normality? Oh, I don’t know either. Everything has become so terribly complicated. A part of me misses these extremes very much. The feelings that always went along with it. I got to know and love Alicia under these circumstances. I think I never told her that so clearly, but considering that after all these years and fucked-up episodes I didn’t split on her, there should be more than enough proof. Some things don’t need spoken words for their self-evidentiality. Another instagram quote. I get pretty good at developing such phrases. Maybe I should just become a professional copywriter for Instagram? I’ll be the keyword provider for all those super blatant influencers, while I’ll always subtly incorporate a meta-level that only three percent of followers might notice. But it would be worth it. Sounds fun, actually. I should write it on my big What-The-Fuck-Am-I-Doing-With-My-Life list. Right at the top. Or almost. Somewhere at least. After all, I’ve recorded it here now, so the idea as such is unlikely to disappear so quickly. That’s also quite nice somehow. Natalia hasn’t contacted me yet. Either she has a lot on her mind again or I really blew it before anything great happened at all. Under these circumstances it’s probably better that way. I don’t think it would be fair to put all my issues on her conscience. On the other hand, it would be tragicomic if she would actually get in touch and we arrange a meeting. Then I would have to somehow find out how best to limit the damage or whether it is necessary at all. Maybe she is also characterized by an overwhelming resilience that simply shakes off the emotional ballast. That would be enormously enviable. A question for reflection while sleeping: Am I even able to have a reasonably stable relationship with a neurotypical person?

You are a decent human being. Behave accordingly.

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