The Hidden Blade

The Hidden Blade

14.05.2019

Sleep was quite mediocre. No exercise, barely ate, drank alcohol. My body was probably somewhat ungrateful today for the way I treated it. However, the meeting with Tom was quite interesting for me. He now lives in Japan, is married and researches AI security. Cool shit. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get my life together and get anything done. Yeah. So many people, so different paths in life, and mine is kind of insane. Maybe I should classify it based on how many times I’ve taken the knife in the last few months. Although: better not. The answer to that might unsettle me. Or depress me. Or both. Probably both. I have always pondered how to explain to bystanders what the appeal of the blade is. I was never one of those people who deliberately inflicted such injuries that left lasting marks on themselves. I didn’t want to be one of those people who were accused of just wanting attention. I did not want scars revealing that I was often not master of my own emotions. Nevertheless, there were always moments when I needed the blade to create an antidote to emotional despair. Because this is precisely what it represents for me and probably many others: a sort of counterweight creating a pain which can be controlled. A pain that numbs the emotional chaos for a short moment and distracts from one’s own thoughts, fears and demons. As soon as the tip of the blade touches the naked skin and the pressure on it increases, everything else fades into the background for a redeeming moment. This is the reason I have so often reached for the knife in the past whenever I saw no other way out. It is always easy for an outsider to condemn others for their actions, to insinuate that their subjective feelings of suffering have no meaning and could never justify such destructive behaviour. I have experienced so much emotional despair over the years. Not only my own, but other people’ s as well. A not inconsiderable number of them were also all too familiar with the use of a blade. With about 18 million people with mental illness in this country alone, it is hardly surprising that probably more people have already had closer acquaintance with a blade than one might generally assume. It is always easy to condemn those affected and dismiss them as too weak or incapable. However, it is easy to overlook the fact that these people consciously inflict injuries on themselves because their emotional pain is significantly worse. A pain with which they may have to struggle every day. For years. Those who are still alive in spite of all this, who have perhaps even somehow managed to maintain a halfway steady life, are probably many things, but definitely not weak. We often forget far too quickly that behind every decision a person makes there are countless factors that lead to it. From our limited observer’s perspective, it is impossible to recognize them all. Instead of judging, we should try to get a better understanding. It is easy to feel superior because you think that only those who are weak suffer. But superiority does not arise from stagnation within one’s own empathic cluelessness, but much more from recognizing how limited our self is in its perception. We need less ignorance, but much more the search for causes and insights. A credo that is applicable to every area of life without exception. Well. It took me a lot longer than usual to write these words. Because they mean so much to me. But also because a slightly altered version of them will end up on Facebook. I don’t know if this is right or wrong, but it feels like a sensible decision for me. Maybe someone will recognize oneself in it and can take a little vigour out of it. Maybe someone will understand that they are not as weak as they often feel. This is something I have to work on every day, too. At times with more, at others with less success, simply a constant process. But it is a necessary one. I’ve been through so much shit over the years and no matter what my head tries to tell me, I know I’m not a total failure.

An Old Friend

An Old Friend

13.05.2019

Somehow interesting what ten hours of sleep can do. I definitely feel fitter and mentally more stable than the last few days. I even finally managed to see the last two episodes of the current Game of Thrones season. They were somehow meh. The current season seems super hectic, the character development is boring and well, the fact that I let some time pass before watching the new episode already speaks volumes. But hey, in a few days the misery will be over and the season finale is coming. Let’s see what they came up with. Anyway. The much more interesting part today was an article about Cryonics anyway, the vitrification of people to revive them in some future. Exciting topic and definitely something that will also be considered by me. Today is the first time in a while that I’m writing this before I go to bed, which brings me a bit closer to the original title. I wasn’t very productive, but at least I’ve done a lot for my education, I’ll work out later, and tonight I’ll actually work on my book again and continue proofreading. All in all, actually not such a bad yield so far. Hm. Somehow I don’t have the words at this point to fill the remaining lines. Tomorrow I see Tom for the first time in probably over ten years or so. I went to school with him back then. He was one of the smartest people I ever met. I am very curious how he turned out. When you meet again after such a long time, it often seems strange. I think. After all, I don’t have a reference memory to orient myself on. I see most people who are part of my life at least once every one or two years. That’s actually not much, but it’s better than ten years or longer. The advantage in this situation is that I have no emotional connection with him, but only a weak memory of our school days together. Wouldn’t it be kind of ironic if this meeting tomorrow gave me some kind of opportunity to do some crazy shit that would throw my life off track again? But this time in a positive way? After all, you never know. Good, that sounds a lot like a reverie that could have been stolen from the very next bad movie, but on the other hand so many crazy things have happened to me in my life that I can’t completely rule it out. As so often I just have to wait and see the events that may come. I’m at a point in my life right now anyway where a little change can’t hurt. Whether it gets better remains to be seen, but the chances are not too bad. The less I do the same thing every day and thus remain trapped in a destructive routine, the more the probability shifts in my favor. The fact that I am now doing more to broaden my intellectual horizons is a good indicator that at least something is going on. Also, yesterday I managed to resist the temptation to drink alcohol, which, given my mental condition over the last few days and weeks, is quite a remarkable achievement. Therefore, the current goal is to maintain this direction and continue to work towards stabilizing this behavior and becoming the norm rather than its parasuicidal counterpart. Fun Fact: I was thinking about recharging my laptop earlier. I’ve just noticed that if I had actually connected the charger cable to the port provided for it, this project would have been much more likely to succeed than just placing the laptop next to it and forgetting what I originally wanted to do with it. Is this a first sign of age or just my normal disorientation towards everyday actions? If I remember correctly, I’ve always made such mistakes, so it’s nothing to worry about. After all. One point less to give me a headache.

Tragedy

Tragedy

12.05.2019

Only when you no longer care, you have nothing to lose. That’ s how it was with this Fightclub aphorism, which all the cool kids in the block used to whisper conspiratorially to each other. Or was it another? Doesn’t matter either. Like so many things. Quiz question: How can you tell that your mood is going downhill? Obviously because even the hobbies once pursued with pleasure don’t have the desired, satisfying effect. Very difficult question, I know. Without me no one would have known that. Never ever. Fuck, the music I’m listening to sucks. That’s better. There is a tragicomic aspect to it. For several weeks now I have been writing these pieces in a form as if I would share them with a larger audience at some point. But so far only one person has ever read these thousands of words. Your mother. Ha. Unexpected plot twist. Nobody expected that. Least of all me, when I started with this sentence, but my head perceived it in a very blunt way to be funny, so why not follow an impulse? The advantage of it, if the only person who knows these words is yourself, is that even the most idiotic thoughts can flow in and nobody asks strange questions. Speaking of questions. I was wondering earlier whether it might not be time to dive into fictional worlds more often. Not by consuming the thoughts of others, but by creating my own. I could go back to Sangea more often. This gloomy, dystopian and yet at the same time so wonderful world, which so far only comes to life in my head. I think of the characters I have started to develop so far, of their dreams and fears and where their journey might lead them. I don’t know what the whole story will look like yet, but character and world design have their own unique appeal, so I don’t have to at this point. But yes, maybe now is the time for me to come back more often. Since I don’t feel much of a thrill about playing games anyway (yes, I know it sounded quite different yesterday, so what), I can actually put the time I gained into the story of Sangea as well. We all have the same time frame at our disposal. Every day it’s the same 24 hours for all of us. Eight to ten hours of it usually go for healthy sleep, but that leaves us at least fourteen hours that we can use wisely. I just have an idea. What if, just for the fun of it, I were to develop a specific daily schedule? Starting with the morning routine, through meals, reading, sports, education, writing and everything else that goes with it. I could make a nice Excel spreadsheet and see what it looks like in the end. Maybe this will help me to get my messed up life under control somehow. After all, things can hardly get any worse than they are now. Well, that was a lie, it probably always gets worse, but the decisive point is that you should rather strive for the opposite direction anyway, right? Action is the antidote to despair. Fucking autocorrection by Word. Just had to correct the sentence manually, because the software can’t cope with my superior writing style. It will take quite a while until the age of machines will dawn and we will become their slaves devoid of will. Although this idea has its charm. If I don’t know that I am a slave, am I interested in this condition at all? Everyday philosophy in the middle of the night and the only one with whom I can talk about it is myself. What a very unfortunate situation. Probably many things would become easier. The more freedom I gain, the more confused I become. Perhaps an externally imposed, clearly structured plan would actually be beneficial to someone in my mental state. How do you get things actually done? Burn the boats. Only when there is no going back, when we have no choice but to go forward, only then can we find true greatness. Instagram I come. That all sounds so terribly flat and trivial. Is it me? Are my thoughts really not more mature than dull platitudes? Tragic. All-encompassing tragedy. In every respect. I had hoped for more from this life. Many others probably, too. Others are disappointed by me? Ask me. The person I have always disappointed the most is myself. Curtain falls. Shot. Dramatic exit. Darkness. Everything is silent. Thunderous applause. The tragedy of life as a stage play.