Rotkäppchen

I see them, you know? Their eyes staring at me like I am a curiosity in a museum. I feel sticky, the sweat on my hands that formed when I waited and waited for the right moment to knock is now slowly turning into sticky residue. My trousers feel way too short and I am made painfully aware of my limbs, the beaten up backpack, the holes in my clothes. I ask if he is the one I seek. "In the flesh",he responds. He urges me to speak louder. Tells me this is not his office hour, but I may join them anyways. Fuck. I have shown weakness and from there on it starts. The grins. There is two of them in this ancient office, and I came like a messenger from the future, smiled at benevolently. But his laugh is like a Hyena. I sense kindness in his eyes, yet also i see them looking down at me. I get nervous. Stumble over ky words.Apologise. Apologise. Apologise. I hate apologising. I hate thanking them from offering me a seat that I should have just been able to sit down in. Wide legged, screaming confidence. I ask more questions, he interrupts. Leads the conversation. Shares his own private jokes with the guy behind me. Tells me in this stench of superiority how he has never read study documents and does not plan to start doing so before his pension. I laugh with them. It must seem so close to him, his pension. Maybe as close as his grave. You are an advisor. Advise me. Do not guess. I hate them. They do not care. They laugh when I tell them my studies - laugh at the novelty of studying a degree that combines English and Philosophy. I thank him. He helped me after all and everything seems much easier after his clear outline of what I need to do. Which documents I need to send him. Yet, when I leave the room, I suggest he may want to change the information on his website. He tells me it is accurate, but I should have come earlier, that my criticism is null just in kind, laughing words. My quick excuse is regarded with a benevolent smile, his head bobbing up and down. I feel hate and embarrassment. I feel my cheeks rosy, expressing how I understand very well. I wish him a lovely weekend, close the door and whisper profanities at him. I flee. Push open the door until I stop on a flight of stairs unable to move, my breath fast, tears burning in my eyes as they mix with sunscreen. I storm into the next toilet I can find and disappear into panicked crying. I hate when people think they are better than me.

my father must have wanted to die. There is no other explaination. He either wanted to or did not care enough to live. Why did you leave me. Was I not enough? What did I do wring. Was I too much? Not enough? You put so much work into understanding me, maybe that is what killed you. And you left me all alone. Ypu all did. You were all to frightened. Angsthasen. Feiglinge. Ihr wart die Erwachsenen, warum musste ich als Kind da alleine durch. Warum war alles wichtiger als ich selbst. Warum wart ihr wütend auf mich, als ich damit nicht klar kam. Ich hätte euch gebraucht und ihr habt mich allein gelassen. Das ist nicht fair. Ich wäre jetzt so viel besser dran, wenn das nicht gewesen wäre. Ich hasse euch ein wenig dafür. Ich fühle mich, als wäre ich nicht genug und das ist nicht fair. es war nicht meine Schuld. warum habt ihr mir immer das gefühl gegeben es wäre meine Schuld? immer höre ich, wie schwierig ich war. Wie trotzig und aufmüpfig und traurig und wütend. ich hasse das. Ich gebe euch die schuld dafür, dass uch mich selbst so sehr hasse. Ich will ei ta j nur besser werden. Mich fühlen als sei ich genug. Ich verstehe nicht, warum das nicht funktioniert.

no rest the movement is constant antsy, i can almost see the little black dots running accross his skin . Red dots, red streaks a hand full of soon to be scars i wonder where hell put out the cigarette behind his ear. I miss you

Next to you there is a little space Like a pebble I pivot towards it Your ragged lines complement my smoothed gray There is no shine Next to you is little space I feel my bones jumbled, tight togther to avoid the touch. When the waves recede, I watch my sunlight float over you illuminate the inner mosaik, but you are dulled from the sea and only accept the heat it brings. I lay beside. Tiny in the mud that embraces me softly. around you I feel so lonely sometimes. I do everything for you and think of you in everything I do. You do not. You are selfishly autonomous and it makes me sick.

oh god.what have I done. they are gone the cigarettes that let cold smole hang innyour flat. you were so miserable. I wish I could hold you. in a room with anyone I ever met i would first look for you. You are right I made you into some devil in my brain gave you power you don't have. you were a stupid little boy amd I yoinr toy when I should have been your friend. You needed me. I wish I could hold you. I wish I knew how you were doing. I wish we could reconcile. I would leave everything I built to be with you and that is so fucking sick. I hate that. I would destroy my life. I am sick. I want to crumble. I don't want stability I wanna get high. Fuck you. I am laying in my lovers arms as I am writng this. I feel disgust. I feel so sad I feel loss. I want to go back and do it all again. I don't want this life.

so. today we talk about it I guess. Stumm wie ein Fisch Taub wie ein Ei. I pretend I don't see. It doesn't affect me. I am fine. I am okay. Why do I even need to talk about this? What even happened. Idk idk idk. Patterns which patterns did I have. i just wanted him to like me. I felt sorry for him. I saw myself in him those corners that i would hide from others. My violent thoughts. My cynicism. I did everything to make him like me and he always chose someone else. I made myself a commodity for people. Giving away nudes at the slightest sign of affection and treasuring my desperation as openness. I felt so cool. Liberated even. Whenever I felt unlovable I just picked some other guy to fuck me and break me in pieces. To treat me like a slab of meat. Maybe that is just what I tell myself tho. Maybe it is not like that. Maybe i just feel ashamed that I liked it and then constructrd the shame as refusal? I don't know. I don't know why and how and how and why it all happened. I know I am supposed to talk about it to be okay with it and to use it for identifying patterns. But idk. How do they still affect me? Do they? fear of intimacy. I still see him everywhere. Long for this type of interaction like some drug. I don't recognize myself from back then. I feel shattered. did our story even end? who would I be if he came back? Would I leave them for him?

I want to write my bachelor thesis about cloud atlas and post humanism

Weak and small. Competition is my fuel. One drop and the engine goes in rhythmic tak-tak-tak's Yet, it dies off when you abandon the clutch. I feel like dust on black metal boards amd curves hiding in the corners. Or I am the metal obacured by fine particles of skins and hair and dirt and sweat around me. I used to hide myself in them. Felt most obscured when we were naked, New bodies just like mine1. A fake intimacy of long shadows drawn from street lights outside I sit in this room that is not mine and feel miserable. Wenn der Krokus schon geblüht hat habe ich ihn verpasst.

I met a stranger on the bus No talking just gazes we shared as he hid behind stern light that fell through the foliage outside. We met through tired eyes. Had he been crying? Did he sleep enough? These questions were enkugh for my gaze to linger until he noticed. I blinked at him and smiled in an effort to convey: I know. I care. Things are hard and in that moment I felt like our lives connected for the tiniest tilt of a mouth corner. I wanted to go oger and offer care but this is not the connection for that. It is one small streak of light until we have to return to lives were it is rare to find in the eyes of strangers. Maybe I recognised his soul.

if he likes me takes me home. I don't know what to do. I wish I remembered how I felt about all of these things. I wish I did not just have all these pictures blurry from going over them over and over again.