There’s always a way out.

There’s always a way out.

I’ve slept sixteen hours in a row but I haven’t touched food in almost two days. Alcohol fills me up quite a bit, and when I start drinking I do not stop until I collapse. “Collapse” is physical but also psychological. Usually I try to keep these ones for my own private sphere, but yesterday morning I’ve experieced a little “public fall”, let’s say. I’m just sorry to have given this public view to somebody else, mostly because people would obviously feel uncomfortable, not knowing how to react or what to say. To somebody who doesn’t really know me, I could be percieved as a cold, unsensitive person. When somebody gives me bad news, like somebody’s dead or somebody is sick, I’m not able to react. I keep silent but after that I’m not able to ask my friend how s/he’s doing because I’m terrified about hearing bad news. In my family, when something bad is going on, we don’t really talk about our emotions and feelings, we just do what we’ve gotta do. We would get the fucking funeral organized but we wouldn’t talk about the whole death behind it. That’s how we’re done. I absorb all of it, it’s like you tell me that and I feel like I’m living that as well, and I feel terribly bad, and I’m sorry I have to stop you while you’re telling it, because it’s your story and your life, I’m just listening to it, but I’m falling and I need a moment, because that’s being “too much” to hear for me. But then we know, because we do, alcohol is playing a good role in that, it’s being lube in the whole thing.

This is one of those good days I’d need to be in the country and work on something there, dad suggest me what. Physical work against reasonsless paranoia. There’s always a way out. I need to create so many things, I need to write, I need to read, I need to be alone, I need not to be alone, I need all I dont need. I don’t have a chance to get bored. Moreover I’m way too ambitious to get bored. Ambition is not always a good thing, makes you wanna get more than you actually need and makes you feel also unsatisfied, but also makes you run. In the last (many) months I’ve stopped running. I got to a point where I thought all makes no sense at all, so what’s the meaning of it? The other day I was sitting somewhere in the city, I looked around myself, where was I? Berlin, and I don’t really notice that, and I don’t really care about that. I’m so busy keeping myself busy to avoid feeling all the void.

Oh yes, my columng is out today, but I haven’t written about the punk guy, it’s always fun to hear other people personal shit, but today I’ve decided to not be a clown -> click here for the column

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