It’s just a quote # 3

“And your eyes…

The last days have been bad again. Someone shot the maple – neatly every single leaf. Why? Every year anew… the doubts are eating me up. They made me shut down the past days, way too much sleep, the whole day. Prone to tears, a lot of crying, no energy. M. is at his wits’ end. It’s autumn, the leaves are falling. I am reading about the crimes in Vietnam – Agent Orange. Defoliant. Here the foliage is falling on its own, it crimsons, the maple got shot. Ms L. says it is a phase of transition, I am in transition. I became sloppy, I forfeit my diligence and with it my doggedness. We have to take good care which metaphysics we choose. The things, and not least man, don’t have an “essence as such”, no ontology. And that’s why it is so damn important, that we realize, that the choice of human metaphysics, humans nature, is something deeply normative. For they know not what they do. The last days have been bad again. I feel like such a misfit, it’s almost unbearable. Suicide ideations obtrude again. I have such fear of the future. I think, if I just had not met M., things would have been over so much faster. But now there are more strings that bind me to this unloved life. The older I become the less brave I get, the more the possibility is dropping that I will actually do it at any point. But perhaps I should do it. Sometimes the all-embracing nonentity seems so much more attractive than this everlasting pain, as much as it may be scary. I don’t see how it should ever be possible for me to be a functioning part of this society. Let alone a part that could turn some things to the better here. Such a future seems to such an extant unattractive to me that I weigh the different ways to commit suicide. And the more I think about it the less it becomes clear that what I am longing for is death. I want to be free from those expectations and this pressure, the one from the outside but even more the one from the inside. Borderline in every sense, too much to life, too little to die, not here anymore but not there yet (in transition), too normal to be insane, too insane to be normal. Disrupted. Count to six and die.

And at the same time all those blows of fate around me, P.’s psychosis, in jail because of dealing with drugs. A.’s car crash that could have easily killed him. S.’ psychosis, he sais the secret police is tacking him, agents everywhere are after him. Seeks for shelter at our place, now he disappeared. The embarrassing desire it should finally hit me. Someone like me, who values life as little as me, would have deserved it many times. Instead others have to suffer and on the q.t. I wish to spend the rest of my life in a psych ward. Without expectations, without responsibility. Please just leave me alone, even L. formulates expectations, camouflaged as well-intentioned advice. I should go ahead and hold presentations for the local environmentalists about the things that I read. Share my knowledge, that’s what she could imagine for me. Why is everybody willing to imagine something for me? I should rethink whether to stay in philosophy, said the professors at the academy. They’d need good lecturers. I never asked about your opinion, goddamn. I have the angst M. could at some point leave me for my pessimism. My excessive doomsaying. And then there is something inside me that hopes for nothing more than that. So that I can finally perish in peace. I only see legs passing by me and they all look the same. Squeezed into skin-tight jeans they transition seamless into long, brown hair. The girls seem to consist of legs and hair only. And again, me here, the misfit. Those ones are lucky who don’t look squeezed. The blessed ones, of which there seem to be frustratingly many. I did something wrong. They are gonna chase me down in my dreams. I’d rather die than be fat, even Sylvia wrote. Esther gained ten kg in the psychiatric ward because of the electroshocks. I gained ten kg in the US because of sheer stupidity. And this is what I have to deal with now. Fuck. Those. Legs. And your eyes are slits in bags of fat and your eyes are pissholes in the snow. These girls drive me nuts. I need to go.”

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