I’m so fucking into “contemporary psychedelic rock”, you have no idea. I love the atmospheres, I’m tired of being a fighter, I am a silent fuck off’er, can you say that in English? I don’t believe in anything and I don’t believe in anybody anymore. It’s all bullshit, that’s why I don’t really have to care about social conventions or such shit, today I wanna wear red lipstick, tomorrow I wanna wear high heels, next week I wanna wear a man suit, I can fucking do that. I guess I’m doing good, also if I always have this sour taste in my mouth, it’s not because of the booze, it’s because “I wished it could have gone differently”. I admit I’ve known precious people, at times there was that “what is this?” moment with somebody and I’ve been thinking rationally then, like “hey, this could work out, smart, good, pretty one!”. I never feel anything. I only think about what I want to feel. This is terrible. Only a couple of times I’ve done something because I really FELT LIKE, I usually do it because I think it’s good thing to do/rational thing/whateverworksthingtodo. It was not like this when I still lived in Rome, afterwards I became way more hard to deal with, apparently I’m just more “relaxed” and “open” or something similar, I guess. I am not. I shut the doors. There’s no way to come in, I try to have a look out there, but the more I go outside, the more I get naked, the more I fly high, the more I’m shut into my precious and private empire of shit. I discovered loneliness in a different way. I like to stay alone, I like to go out alone. I’m an easy talker, na klar, but it’s usually people coming to me. People think I am sad. This is my face, sorry Leute. So they would sit and ask what’s wrong and I should enjoy life. Months ago I kissed this woman, eine echte Berlinerin, she would have turn seventy years old anytime soon. All around us was pretty hardcore, kids.
I just wanted to say that when last Sunday night P. told me I probably wanted something I couldn’t have, and the night was still begininnig for the both of us, well, I feel relieved. I do like you and I do like the idea of it. There’s some rock’n’roll fanciness about it. And I truly appreciated the sweetness, back then. I felt good a few days ago, I didn’t have the “weight” of making things work anymore, which is something I have assigned to myself, as I’ve said before.
Now I want to provoke myself, I want to embarrass myself, I need strong emotions. This morning my weight was 59 kilos. I never went any higher than 66, but lately I can barely reach 60 kilos. As I get a bath my hips burn, my legs burn, my left arm burn. I’m doing way better than ten days ago, but I do scratch myself, again after so many years. And it looks bad, when it’s over I still have a huge dark spot where before I had little bloody holes. I don’t understand.
I have big plans, like always, like all it’s been written during my adolescence. Only one thing would really terrify me now: leaving Berlin. I can’t imagine that. I do cannot.