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Splish splash ... ...

"All is calm in this eternal sleep;. Here grief forgets to groan and love to weep"
[Alexander Pope]

I'm not a fan of this idea. I despise them, hate them, and yet I have them.
The minute win in the hand of pain, despair depresses you and you're incredibly angry without a real target of this anger, this idea loses all his ugliness.
I washed my hair and the water came down so fast, it generated this noisy, splashing noise ...
attracted As of siren song filled me the thought: Just lie down
submerge, drown.
addition to the burden that crushed me, would have counteracted the pressure of the oxygen deficiency more like a cloud. A cloud that makes me so easily float up.
The pain, when the lungs fill with water would be like a gentle caress, in addition to the sharp pain in my heart.
And then entered the darkness. Hot, numbing, soothing.
Unlike the darkness, the blind rushes me through sharp twists and leaves my mind no rest.
The pain is slowly and my soul is drowning in it.
I long for the final death.

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the snow fell lightly ...

"Who is lonely, who is good, because no one there to do him something."
[Wilhelm Busch]

This winter was really a pleasure for me! White and cold, as this season was supposed to be. A shame that some do not value this. In the hustle and bustle of our modern society we have forgotten the wonderful things to see. If one of the first got the idea to stop while he was stuck in traffic, and these superb view? How often does it happen before, already, that the world seems to be frozen, here in Germany too modern ...

I could not stand it that evening at home. He was at home and buy her mother and brother were. That would mean yes, we're both alone ... So I'm out in the snow. Ever notice how quiet the world is when it snows? One feels so isolated from the reality. How wrong I'm so aimless and have been watching the flakes, concentrated at nothing to think because everything is so depressing but at the moment, is a question solidified in my head:

Feels Snow is lonely?

There are people who love him, hate him. Some happy, others only sigh at the sight of horror. Snow can make happy or depressed. But no matter what impact it has on us humans, one thing is clear, snow does not matter in our lives.

He comes and goes without the people's wishes be respected. And we respect that no one will demand in the summer that it's snowing. And in the winter will not despair of his absence. Snow is independent of us. It takes care of any of these flakes if I have missed them terribly, over the summer? They fall and fall and at some point Just stop it. No one is any expectations in these flakes. No one it breaks your heart when they go. No one feels out of place when they come. Is the pure freedom?

But on the other hand, if no one is counting on you, no one expects anything from you, no one devotes his life to you, then you're all alone? Existierst you only these words to you? Do you feel lonely then?

we want complete independence and freedom or do we want to be loved, used?

Eventually everyone decides on their own.

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... biting thoughts

And what I do, but if it is? I would not underestimate my life, yet so many people might be happier if it were not for me.



Shall we count them once ` ?

- My mother, who just moved me because in a country that despises them.
- My godfather, who was killed by series of small accidents, which were all raised by me.
- My grandparents, who her daughter terribly miss
- the Father, redeemed without me long ago was this mother and family conditions
- M., the one without me would not have the heart broken
- another level, not without me would be hopelessly in love
- as could be perfectly happy in his relationship to them without fear
- a lot of people who see me as a friend and be disappointed, because I Take me insulating

it not be offended if I do go all out of the way and you do not integrate into my life. I learned that it is the best way.

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Winding thoughts ...

"[It was] God himself, who laid himself as a snake at the end of his day's work under the tree of knowledge: he recovered from it to be God ..
He had made everything too good ... The devil is merely the idleness of God to every seventh day ... "
(Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce homo)

Is it the fate of a man who always ready to act is morally right, according to its principles, that God would approve, of a wonderful day for the snake to be?
And you can go back? Or does the blood of the sin forever stick in my hands? Even if I try to wash clean, but be deceived my eyes, but I hardly look with your heart, my conscience, out, my hands turning red and the blood drowned me incessantly in my memories ...

I think at the moment is not near. I hide the hands from people who are near me. So I sat the last three days alone in the café every morning and made me think ... I felt free. Redeemed. But once I step back into a crowd I'm choking on their presence. They make me aware of the blood. With me I have made peace. I know who I am and I know my mistake. But people do not tuen. This distorted image they have of me, pressed me mercilessly gene ground. The image ... my own work I have created in six days. Too good ...

What follows after the seventh day?