I just saw what Taira meant when she wrote that the last date confused her. Numbers are smoke and mirrors. I’m writing more. Finally. Took me long enough. Still not on my main manuscript, but that’s okay. I feel how with every day that passes, my head half-consciously continues to work on it and fixes details. I know that when the time has come and I am actively working on it again, I will be able to fix many of the flaws and the end product will be a better one. At least I hope so. Perfectionism is both a curse and a blessing. Whenever I write scenes in the story around Sangea and reread them for a few hours, I notice little things. Here an unnecessary repetition of words, a filler word that didn’t have to be. There a somewhat clumsy wording. Then again the question whether the dialogues read comprehensibly. Do I provide the characters with enough structure, so that they actually have their own profile later on? I don’t want to slide into boring stereotypes. Of course traits exist, but people are so much more complex than their first impression would suggest. Fictional characters should be as well. I hope I succeed in the end and that the ten people who read the final product are not completely bored. Somehow this is all crazy. The whole last weeks. When I was younger, I often imagined what it would be like to lie in the grass under the stars on a summer night and philosophize with another person about the adversities of being. I think with Taira I could do that pretty well. Isn’t it crazy that you unexpectedly meet people who have an incredibly strong influence on your life in a very short time? Or is it just me? When she describes to me the difficulties she had in the past with her friends, because she occasionally has to take care of herself and therefore withdraws a bit, I can’t help but be incredibly grateful for my circle of friends. I have never had any problems in this regard. But I can well imagine how painful it is when friendships are broken or put under great strain. One of the many reasons why I want to spare her this experience with me. I know from myself only too well how important it can be for the structuring of one’s own thoughts to talk to someone about the chaos in one’ s head. If I can be that anchor point for her, then I am all right with it. After all, she has endured enough chaos from me during the past weeks. Although it was all quite harmless. I am a little worried about what will happen if I get to a point again which seems destructive, especially to myself and others. I don’t know how much I can ask of her. There were times when Maya regularly called the police and self-help hotlines in the city to check whether I was still alive. I would like to spare Taira such experiences. I don’t think it will happen again anyway. Somehow my head has become more permanent. I just don’t know what that means in the end. It’s been a long time since I had suicidal tendencies. Suicidal tendencies. Nice euphemism for sitting on a bridge at night with an inner desire to fall. Anyway. Several years ago, in fact. But you never know. Meanwhile, there are so many people in my life whom my disappearance would probably fuck up a lot. I’m alive because other people don’t want me to die. What an absurd situation. Is it weird to think about suicide when you don’t feel the need to do it right now? Shine on, you crazy diamond. Should see Revolver again. I think I know by now why I consider this film so brilliant. The fight against your own ego. The pride, the arrogance. All my life I have been thrown in every conceivable direction by the extremes of my self-perception. Maybe it’s time to confront that more consciously. Maybe this is the cure for my perfectionism. We are afraid to love because we do not know the answer. Mental leap. Reality flash. No idea where my head is going this time. Or do I? Maybe I unconsciously know more than I realize. Yeah, how could I? It is unconscious, after all. Or is it? Man errs as long as he strives. Fuck Goethe. He was right, though. The only thing that changes is the realization of how far-reaching our error is. We live in a world we do not understand, but are too proud to admit just that. It would be so easy. There are so many things we do not understand. But we always want to become super sophisticated, so that the rest of humanity doesn’t get a bad picture of us. I often don’t even understand myself, so how can I expect the world to be any different?