Posts (page 2)
It will. I'm pretty sure of that.
How I'm able to ramble about shoes being the ultimate escape from myself?
I'm on drugs.
Today was the funeral of a good friend of my grandpa. 14 days ago he basically just fell over and was dead while shopping with his wife.The day before he had been for his annual heart-check. All good, all fine you go and shop with your wife.
It's funeral number twenty one since I was seven years old.The only funeral I didn't attend but would have mattered was that of my fathers.
Ever since I was about seven or eight I called my step-dad "father" and "daddy". With my actual father never really caring for me and my new-born litle sister calling her dad well, "dad", obviously there was nothing much else to expect from an eight year old than to call the man living with her mother under the roof her sister was born "daddy" , too.
My mother tells me that he sat down with me and had a talk with me about how - if i choose to call him dad - i couldn't just take it back whenever I would be angry at him. It was a all-or-nothing deal.
I'm twenty now and I have finally accepted that my father has never cared for me when I was little and that my father died when I was 13. My daddy commited suicide and left me.
My step-dad has always been dead, atleast as far as I can remember he has only been alive whenever he hit my mother or me.Or his daughter.I've never seen him much more alive than in those moments, maybe that's one of the reasons we never left him until now - the overwhelmingness of all that life exploding in his sheer agression against us simply darkened and dumbed us.
I've got a step-dad left now I can't love anymore cause he has misused, abused and lost all that love I used to have for him and I've got a dead father six feet under.
My best friend is seemingly vanishing out of my life without me being able to grasp her at all, Chris is going to be dead in a few weeks time, my mother is starting to go down by all the things he needs to face now that my step-dad has left, all my friends have blocked me out because I have let one of them down once in the time I've known her, my uncle has abandoned me because I earned money instead of attending his wedding and really? I just feel lost. So much. It's beyond where peep-toes and swallows can rescure my footprints in the sand.
I'm facing the floor, basically. My whole body is. It's pressed onto the stained, dirty grey rough idea of a rug my room is filled out with. Scratching against my cheek and the palms of my hands pressing against it. It does feel like I could get up but reality has it i won't.
Not in the near future anyway.
Chris has been hospitalized.Last friday he came over and hugged me and soothed me in sweet new tunes he wrote while being coked up. He's looking like a death, false image of himself two years ago.
He's not going to make it.
I stared at him all through the night, really. After a hysteric call at 2am because all this angst and fear of loss inside me overwhelmed me too much he came and rescued me.
He's brought me ( aka has ripped from somebody ) a little golden ring and gave it to me.
He's going to die.
His ashy eyes are all whidened up and slurred into his head and the way his hands stroke over his guitars has changed in a way I can't put into words. There's a certain agony tagged to his movements I don't understand or get at all and when he kisses me I can't feel his breath at all. It's like a rotten rest of him is sliding inside me instead of him actually being there.
It's not like he is still there anymore either, who am I kidding.
We lay onto the cold, rough grey carpet together just staring at each other after I had calmed and the weight of my body has never felt more like a pressure than that night I think. I wetted the spots next to my face like a giant mess.
I don't want him to die on me.
From the hidden private livejournal:
I haven't written in here for what feels like ages. Actually, I haven't
written generally at all for what feels like ages. It's more than like
it has been less than four weeks since I have put up with bringing
writings onto a paper. To me, it does feel like an eternity.
I've
been wondering if as a female writer you have to be one of those loud,
colorful people. One of those who stand out. As a writer it's more
likel you are generally not one of those who stand out. Unless all of
your life you have been the artsy type people know cause you're running
around with either a full load of ideas rolled out in piles of
bewritten papers underneath your arms or paint all over your weird but
still fashionable clothes. Of course if you do fit into this type
you're the guy who stands out for being artsy. But somehow this makes
you one of the masses already again. You're one of the types just like
everybody is.
I never walk around with a load of ideas neither on paper nor in my head. Writing isn't something I chose to do. I can't fucking help it which makes it so unbearable at times. There is peer pressure to write down staks of words in lightening speed pumping through my veins - and i can't... that's probably wrong.. My body phsycially refuses to word absolutely anything.
Last monday my
step-dad moved out. He left with all his stuff and just went. It was
the monday after my prom which he refused to go to. Which is why i
told him that he is no longer my father from this point on. I told him
I needed his support tonight. I reminded him that i do always support
him no matter what kind of bullshit he does. I told him that I needed
him. He simply refused.
It does hurt when your best friend takes the
pleasures of british public transport and whacky ryanair flights
including a 12 hours travel to be there at your graduation and your own
father feels getting dressed and sitting down in a hall is too much to
ask for.
It is one thing to realized that your parents are just people. It's a bit of a different thing to realize you've lost your dad being 3 years old when he and your mother divorced and have never gotten a decent compensation for it.
The truth really is that I never have had a father. A proper one.
Yesterday we had the cops over after he tried to take all his things out which would have meant our phone and internet connection cut off which my mum pays for.Five hours prior to that incident she had told him via phone that he can come over saturday first thing with as many people he'd like and take whatever is his while she's here and that he could spend the afternoon with his son if he'd like to - which he did.
He's
been inside the appartment four times by then always picking a little
here and a little there up whenever my mum was off at work. Which left
me alone with him inside the appartment. Smart me locked herself inside
her room while he spent about 20 minutes or so in the flat and left
then to fuck knows where.He didn't say a single word to me and I was
trying to hide my anxiousness with blaring the radio and singing along.
I don't even know why i'm writing all this down.
Saturday
was my uncles wedding which I missed because I was earning 60 bucks
babysitting two kids and the father of them turned up three hours
late.Therefore my uncle has told my family that this is like my
step-dad not coming to my prom.
Which made me cry for approximately
three hours. Afterwards I called my grams and spent the sunday with her
going out for dinner out of town in a lovely restaurant and watching
stupid telly wallowing in my own shitness.
I cried for as long
because one this sentence made me realize that my mum and grams are
right about him, he can be a right bastard when it comes down to
things. It's not like i haven't been there for him. The evening before
I got my graduation papers I was babysitting his little ones while he
was off seing Genesis.In order to do that i had an hour long talk with
my driving teacher in order to swap my last theory class to somehow
make the night work. I missed the last night of clubbing with my
friends which we've been planning a month ahead.
I was being well of a cunt to the little ones that night no kidding.
My
uncle dropped another line that hurt me even more saying he'd have paid
the 60 bucks to have me there. Fun thing is i've been mentioning him
donating something to my driving lessons for the past four months now
with not even getting a response. For my graduation I did not get zero
cash either. Not even a card. He did leave early and let my grams and
mom pay for his drinks aswell.
It's turning my stomache around making me sick these days.
I've
been chatting with this guy I hooked up with that saturday night of my
prom for a while now.I'm going to tell him that he's not going to get
it. I've realized how much I long for somebody to take care of me. It's
always been me who took care. It's been with the ex-girlfriend like
that simply due to her being so skinny and tiny I always felt much more
like the woman in the relationship. And with that I took care of her
rather than the other way round. With Chris i've burdened me with a
drug addict to take care of and Stefan couldn't even tie his fucking
shoes.
I'm so sick of it.
I've got simply nobody to talk to
anymore either with Holls being where she is in life right now. There's
no deep talking sessions during the nights anymore and that just adds
to the losses i've had to take in the past few weeks. It's just all too
much and I can't be bothered with another person in my life to take
care of. I can't.
I'm broken down.I really am. I'm close to giving in cutting again and all I want is to hide underneath my blanket and let life pass by. I hide in books currently but that won't last for very long.
I'm done.I really am. I don't wanna lose anymore. I'm sick of losses. I'm sick of losing. I want something to stick. This isn't funny or snotty or entertaining or inspiring or anything else. I'm not extraordinary and I don't stand out. If i don't bring good things to paper i'm still me. I still write. That's all there is to. That's all there really is to me.
This is what youth smells like for me.
I'm only 20, don't get me wrong, i'm young and all that sweet sweet stuff but hearing that song just brought me back eight years.
Sitting in the parks drinking cheap, cheap red whine while my friends were smoking pot. That's the soundtrack to that time of my life. Not exactly that song, of course but it's so incredible to hear that vibe of music again. It feels like things are coming back together with all the breaking-ups and endings I'm currently going through.
There is something so defining from when I started this whole growing up decade coming back. They haven't been active for a couple of years and the summer I'm graduating their new video is airing on MTV somewhere between two and three in the morning.
It's surreal, very much. They're not even coming back with a new record, it's just a popping up for the 10year anniversary of the band.It's like a "it's all gonna come back one day."
It's a glimpse of something good, a rough arrangement of sparkling shades I can't grab or steal but have to breath in. Smell of weed and sour whine is flooding my mouth again, cramping my loungs and the sweet smell of canabis lingering on my body and the air is invading my senses.It's red liquor mingling with cheap soda cause you can't drink that cheap stuff on it's own. I've learned that the quick way.
People usually snicker if i hand out music-is-my-religion-speaks but things like these are what is keeping me up.If i have nothing else i still have the music.
I've never been the girl who liked what everybody else liked. I've never gotten to understand what church would give anybody but i've always had a very good sense of what God means to people. I understand it cause i've got my own belief to stick to. It's not so much about owning records or knowing who influenced who or creating it on my own but whatever happend in my life at any time there is a soundtrack to it I didn't chose but that happend on it's own - naturally. I've got faith in it and it supports and backs me up.It's not like I chose it either, always been there and always be there. Wether it's smooth german old school hip hop or the clash.
What do you absolutely refuse to eat?
I've started to grow back into myself.
Walking down the street yesterday after my last theory driving lesson I realized how much I am like I was about a year or two ago. Secretly i'm trying to hide it away and tuck it under by thinking it's just natural because hey, I'm going to be out of school soon. But the truth is I'm starting to close down again.
I don't talk to people anymore and all i am towards most of my friends is being aggravated and the straight opposite of humble. I don't appreciate them and because of all this future scaryness stuck in my heart I become manipulative and greedy, too.
I envy Biancas shopping sprees and that Eva&Ev are both out for a festival this weekend which I didn't have enough cash for. Lots. It's eating me up entirely making me feel even more rotten than I already do.
The way I've found myself slightly okay with me druing the past year has somehow vanished. I don't talk anymore.With plainly nobody. Whatever it is inside me making me feel so lost and helpless nobody knows about it - and neither do i. Talking has solved it for me apparently, now somehow everybody I used to share my inner self with has gone and dropped off into spheres I can't reach.
I am already scared of the weekend ahead because nobody is going to have time to spend it with me ( Bianca and Carina are studying for her oral exams on monday and everybody else is off to the festival ) to keep my thoughts off the books I can't find of which each is around 25 bucks I shall have to pay if I don't have them till monday.
Things like this make me crumble on the floor. Right now all i seek to be is really sick, depressed and dirty. Cause that's exactly how I feel. I didn't think not working in the kindergarden would do me so much damage either. If there is nothing to do ( and there isn't cause I can't be arsed to even get up most of the time ) all I think about is how much time I could spend with the little ones doing something significant rather than avoiding my thoughts.
Lately I have started to systemize my doings in working steps. For instance making myself a drink is 14 working steps.I categorize them in my head under "amount of effort" and other things and chose to do or not do them due to their worthyness.
Because I do them over and over and over inside my head I get so exhausted by doing just that instead of the actual movement I lose the energy to the actual thing.
It's sick, isn't it?
The easiest things like getting up ( 9 working steps ) become massive, huge, unclimbable mountains by this. It's not that they actually are. Who would say that getting up is a hard thing to do?.. I mean unless you've got to do something unpleasent afterwards. But to me, the act itself is undoable.
So yes, I'm back deep deep inside myself and I seem to hate it here even more than I used to do. Even the shame about my depression is back. Currently I'm considering wether or not to post this because people may find it boring. It's just that most of the times life isn't full of one night stands and advices for people or important things to discuss. A lot of times it's just me stuck in my room trying to keep on breathing. Cause breathing takes 4 working steps and that's a lot.
I'm so sick of people leaving me behind it's disgusting. Franzi's dog had to be put down on monday and we've talked about how she's getting in touch with death currently but in a very sensitive and soft kind of way.
Afterwards I wrote a 10 page piece about the deaths I have experienced since I was about three or four plus all the emotionally and physically sick people sticking around I fear of dying on me.
Ten pages.
It's not like I rambled even. It's 10 pages full of dead people.
Hi,
I'm a good person.
I have volunteered at a kindergarden for over six months atleast once a week until last week. I donate blood, have an organ donaters thingy ( they can totally rip me apart.I'm not even one of those weirdos wanting to keep their eyes! ) and I visit my grams atleast every second week. I help her out with buying supplies, carry her water bottles, do her garden work and scrub her back ( how many „eeewww, really??!“'s that info has gotten by now? ).No, she's not paying me anything for me coming over, neither do I expect money off her for it.
I'm going to work with kids probably for the rest of my life. The „big goal“ is to become a varified youth psychologist and help those rumbling fuckers out.
When I was about eleven years old my brother ( who is nine as of today ) called me „mommy“ cause my mother was never around but working and therefore I was the one he refered to as his mum.I clean the apartment and do the laundry every second saturday. The dish washer is my best friend and I have never done drugs because my mother said I shouldn't.
I won't get tattoed either until i've moved out because simply, my mother asked me to do this and I respect her too much to hurt her with something like this. No, it doesn't feel like she is holding me back from my life either to me. At last she brought me the whole life thing so it's kind of hypocrite to assume she's holding me back from it, isn't it... kinda.the bitch!
I never not buy tickets for the trains and tubes because i think it's the wrong thing to do.I recycle like us bloody europeans do ( except the british, they're the dirty slacker whores of europe ).
I have been listed as a bone marrow donater and I take care of a cat who got abused by his owners.I don't kill spiders even though they freak the shit out of me. Instead I hysterically put on gloves and arm myself with a hugeass beer glass to keep as much distance between the spider and I in order to catch it and put it savely into the backyard.cheers!
There's plenty more but I'm not neccessarily intending on pouring it all onto you, although wouldn't that be a nice purpose for an entry! „How splendid of a person am I, really?!“
Thing is: I've had sex. I've had sex with a random bloke I met in a night club after a frustrating set of songs being
played and an awful, awful date. Yes, you are right, I'm the slut who came with one boy and left with the other one!
I went home with him, we did naughtyfull things, I got dressed again and drove home eight in the morning.No, I don't neccessarily remember his name.. or his looks... or anything else. Neither do I care.
As i got home I took a shower, slept and the following day I got the morning-after-pill which I paid 17 bucks for. No, I don't care if the guy used protection or not. There's things more uncommon that 20 year olds getting pregnant surprisingly. I won't be one of them.
More fun shit? It seems that the whole first paragraph I wrote down gets fucking eliminated once I speak out any of the above information to another member of the female race.
It seems, more so, that my body will get sucked off the planet earth and shall be absorbed into a dimension far far from all good people with boyfriends-for-three-years. It shall be a land of people like me: The unwanted, „the rotten sex people“ ( this, shall be, in fact, our name.LP is coming out soon.) .
I'm a good person, ladies and gents and no, having random sex with random blokes is not changing this tiny little aspect of my personality. It's not making me less of a proper grand daughter to my grams and it's not making the laundry I do filthier either! Surprise! Even you can have dirty, naughty sex and it won't affect your housewife abilities either!
And yes, you can calm down: it will not turn you into a dirty whore either! People will not come up to you and ask you for your „price“ and yes, you can still wear your regular clothes. Red latex and spiff little nurse costumes are not a must if you have had a one night stand!
The past 48 hours I have gotten the most rude and disgraceful comments off the most dumb people ever.It seems I have shagged the pope AND used birth control while doing it.And even though, that yes, I must say what a lovely idea, i might just do that next weekend, there is still something dodgy about all these people. ( this is completely sounding like I've printed and sold my random sex to strangers...I didn't. That's the sunday plan...)
It's a funny world we live in...whooops, sorry. The world you guys are living in.. i'm going to be sucked to lala-lucious-filth-land soon.
Graduation,
graduation. The following are the comments people wrote about me and
will be printed in the graduation paper / yearbook at my site.
Irina Eschenbach
"Coffeeeeee!!!"
a sweety
sometimes moody, but it's Ina, you know!
chest piercing
always knows what to say
D-cups!
sweet
Hello-Kitty-crazyness!
she's been genetically dealed evil and we still love her!
Ina's biggest enemy is the Roiboos tea and all the hippies of the world
Tocotronic-hole
owns one match of clothes
Hello Kitty
breaks taboos
Rebel
grumpy
Always wanted to invite her for tea!
Thanks for the talk while driving back from berlin
bitchy, sometimes
peer-pressure-vegetarian
loves to let people driver her around
Mrs. Google
„Buffy is so close to reality“
loves the readheads
never says anything friendlyvery negative attitude towards lifeonly acts social
twin sister of Lorelai Gilmore
Hello Kitty-Fan
raises 5 octave(s?) with her voice
egoisticnever has her stuff with her
likes to brag
Miss pink Betty Boo
Lorelai Gilmore
The striked through ones i made them take out because I know they came off Janine and Isabel and honest, If i never say anything friendly to you it might just be an indicator for summat other than me being a bitch.Just a suggestion though!
They're nicer than i expected and a lot more respectful than i expected them, aswell.
I've been noticing how much my emotional life depends not only on the way my friends, treat me and feel for me and on how they are but how it sometimes even controls my emotional state.
Things have been vague about Holly coming over for graduation for example which has been essentialy draining me - not because it wouldn't be fine aswell if she couldn't make it ( I'd totally die without her here that day!No kid! ) but because of the vagueness of the situation.
Same thing with other people in my life right now aswell. Vagueness is something i can't really stand. It's too this-and-that, too not here and not there and it is certainly way too less of a realstatement for me.
It's like candy without sugar in it.
I like things defined, decision making isn't what i aim for in general. I'd rather make a really stupid decision only in order to atleast have made one. Atleast to have something to work with.
Trying to make the right decision always feels like wasting time to me for some reason. Cause in the ened i won't know if it was the right one until i've made it anyway. So why wait.
I mean there is nothing against letting things flow the way they do - that's what i do most of the times anyway cause i'm just plainly too lazy and scared to go for things.
But all the thinking people put into decisions is just something i don't get.
Generally you do know what you want, most of the times it's already there and you are well aware of what you are going to do.
Still, waisting time with contemplation and wondering is letting time pass.
Most of the times i really don't get that. I mean i do, but sometimes i just wonder if people really believe a decision will become more right or wrong or whatever it was intended to be once they have put more thought, more money, more time or even cat aids in it.
Show us a self-portrait.
and you hurt me a lotYou are punk and I am not
I wanna be yours, would like to be this
Cousin told me he'd been wearing a punk
what he meant was a hawk
all over his tongue
I'm nothing much more than a
four line poem
spilled on your cold heart kitchen floor
It's silly and true
It's everything you do...
My life right now is filled with vanity. It's quite ridiculous how much I can fill up my life with it but I do.
Ever since last week I've felt utterly hollow inside. It's not been dawning on me until today somewhen but it is what has happend. I didn't even cry. Close to it, but i didn't allow myself. I had brought ice cream for the little ones as a goodbye-gift and they had created this lovely, lovely book with fingerprints and pictures and songs we have sung for the time I was working in there - It's been seven months. They sung a crooked little version of a farewell song alltogether and asked me cute and random-as-fuck questions about what i'll be doing now after I won't come see them anymore.
I feel hollow inside.
It's like breaking off with your one love. You wonder how you was able to live without her or him inside your life. I don't neccessarily know how I was able to live without those little fuckers running around bragging and whining about not wanting to eat their broccoli.
Besides that i've been broke like hell for the past half year there has not been one disadvantage to taking this job. Lack of sleep, I guess, too but that's well allright.
My patterns have changed since I started back then. It's the little things, really. For instance I don't sleep through the day on weekends anymore. It's somehow like I just can't anymore. There is stuff to do and things to sort and people to meet and decisions to make.
I don't bail out of things as much anymore. Working with kids isn't like the usual job you have. There is somebody counting on you who won't understand that an appointment at the hairdressers or a cold is more important than showing up on time to paint doodles on walls and put them to sleep.
When I was working as a waitress in the night clubs every night from nine till 4 in the morning I'd never care about bailing out. Ten minutes before work I'd call in and pretend to be sick and just stay in bed. Screw those people with their silly drinks and costumes, really. They don't need me.
Thing with kids is, they do need you.
There was one or two times I couldn't do thursday so I'd go in on friday instead.
Imagine six kids running over you yelling exitedly about why on earth you wasn't there the day before and how disappointed they were.
It doesn't matter you being there now ( although it does once they figure out that yes, you can do the same stuff on fridays as on thursdays ) but it's allll the effing way about how they were waiting for you the day before.
Not a fun feeling.
Not until you realize that you can do the same stuff on fridays as on thursdays.
Weird thing is that I don't want kids for myself. I spose i'll end up with one or two one day but in general it's not something on my plate or lifeplan - at all.
I don't even neccessarily like them much either. Honest, not at all most of the times. Slimey little cry-heads are just not what i like to stick around me. Now I've come to realize though that this might just be due to the negative association I have towards people in general.
Lesson is, I miss them. Lesson number two is : I'm fucking scared I'll end up as a kindergarden lady or summat awkward like that. Because to be honest, it's quite the most humble and hero-esque job one could have.
What's that secret dream job you've always believed you'd be good at, but never gone for?
Submitted by wedgeh.
I never never never never never never never want to be able to answer that question.ever.ever.ever.
