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Inspirations. Relationships.

One thing always following me is the question why people are the way they are. I can tell you: I've been thinking lots and lots about this... And I never actually got it. Relationships are weird. People and everything always change and grow because of themselves and their circumstances. Some people don't get along with each other. Some people just dislike each other. Most of the people have prejudices. Nearly everyone, you just can't switch it off. It's always "Love one another like yourself" what if I don't love myself? You see, that's the problem, It's complicated. Feelings are, and people. And life itself.

 I am 16 years old. What do I know? What? Not much, I guess. I didn't study anything and my only teacher is life. So how can I say that I know much? Maybe THIS is actually the reason for reinvention. Think about it.

24.8.09 00:34


Night thoughts

I didn't write this one into my diary. I'd like to live in an english-speaking country. I'm the exception of exception.

 You can see my claim in different views. On one side beeing an exception is negative and expresses some kind of minority, on the other side it can be missunderstood as expression of arrogance. But it isn't that way. It's not always how it seems. It brings joy but also pain. It means that you can't get along with most of the people 'cause you're too special for them. This is not supposed to be understood as arrogant, I have to mark that. On the other side it's always exceptions who are abled to tell story by story. Creative people. Working on cars is also an expression of creativity. Every kind of job can be seen that way, it simply depends on your view.

In that view, every person is an exception. Some people don't need to be rich and succesful, they're happy with beeing salesmen in the Super Market. Beeing a salesman in the Supermarket is not worse than beeing a world-known artist or musician. It's not even worse than beeing a bank robber.

I don't like it when people force themselves to evaluate everything, this can be their car or even their hair cut.

It is really not easy to get along with all the people, but it's hardest to accept ewveryone the way he is. Human's were not meant to be that way. This a genetic issue. The ideal world, as the world "ideal" already expresses, is an utopy. And we now that, even if we allthough try to make it perfect. Some say "the try counts"... I think it's only the try we actually have.

In every age or generation society always tries and tried to form people, putting them in the drawer. But, acting that way, people put themselves in the drawer. Society ist mejority. It's "normality". I allow me to say that "normality" doesn't exist. It really doesn't. 

But people are too simply to understand themselves. So keep on playing dumb.

Goodbye, Goodnight, For Good.


17.6.09 22:52


Why do we live? Why do we die? Lonelyness, High houses, suicide, smooth wind.

There's this girl, seeing shadows, day after day, cruelty. And she cries and cries and bleeds. She makes her world more desperate because every try to be happy gets her more and more into darkness. The worst thing is, that it has always been that way and she doesn't know why, but she knows best that It'll never be better, for that she tried it to frequently.

Sometimes you see her one the street, but noone cares for her, her hair is long and black and she's almost completely white. She's crying. She's always crying. No matter how much her friends are right there by her side, she's sad. There was not one single moment in her life when she was not abled to cry. She doesn't know "happiness". Night's her home, where she terms her existence. A life of frustration and misery,  even if she has the best possible parents, who love her, a wonderful, warm home, wonderful, dear friends, happiness always keeps the disctance. Everything she knows is sadness. She never laughed, not even as a child.

 No she's standing on the bridge. Still so sad. She climbs on top, hoping desperately. She looks down and a bright happy smiles appears one her face. This is salvation. But then a hand grabs her, it's her boyfriend. He takes her by the hand and cries and cries, like her. She's so sorry about causing such pain. No they're with her and she wishes even more to die. She can't kill herself, 'cause she doesn't want to cause sadness knowing that this world will cry for her. Life sence if missing, because she knows too well about herself. She has more than she ever wanted, and there's no one in this world to understand her. Everybody tries, but they're all on the wrong way. The more you want it, the less you'll get it. She's small and so beatyful. Gorgeos.

Now she sits there in the padded room for many years. Her hair is meters long, desperation is printed on her face. You can read it from the lines of her vains. she has to get along with heraphys, visiiting friends and her boyfriend visiting. Everything else she has is lonelyness and the memory of the one happy moment in her life so many years ago. She can't die, and everyone sees the pain, and everyone tries to HELP, but the only cure for her is death. It's realeasement, salvation of her destiny. You can't escape you destiny, it's made by your requierements and influences. Dying. She imagines beeing just not there anymore.Thinks of the night on the bridge again, many, many years ago tears flowting down her vains. She thought so much and still didn't find the reason why she can't be happy, cause she's the one, the heartless one, the one without a soul. Simply pain and desperation reveal beeing still alive to her.

In the padded room she found a new friend: Insanity. And even if insanity can't fix her, at least it's abled to daze.

"If i just could kill myself without any utilities." Nails... NAILS! So she stops using nail scissors and lets the years pass. 

The she sharpens her nails by teeth. 

The secound smile.

One stich goes to the trought.

One stich goes to the temple.


12.6.09 22:04

The same old stories

A young musician needs to be quite good to get real big today. Beeing undergroung is way not enough. Doing something you doesn't make you succesful. You really think I have the view. I tell you: I don't have it at all. I just say: I wanna walk my way. I look up to a few famous people. They're so unreachable. They make me look small and my existence senseless. I'd like to be on tour. I'd find it really cool if just one HOPLESS-SETUP SONG'd be written by me. Cay, I know you don't want this. Willi, I know you like NOISE ROCK. You all know how HARDCORE I am!!! I'm listening to Nirvana. Sometimes I listen to Nirvana. I like cheese toast. I guess I ate wisdom with spoons, I tell you: Guys, she's not good for me. I'd like to be dumb.... I'm dumb.... It's always how it seems and nothing ever changes. I've got an ash tray. Fundamentalist christs rule!!! I'm Adolf Hitler... I like Hip-Hop and Free Jazz...
This is modernity. It's history, modernity. Bloc Party. And a flash of inspiration. Rain kids, who talk like the people from earlier days und listen to music, which connects today's progress with yesterday's progess. A bit wishfully, lightning. A brainstorm that lightens your brain and your eyes flash up. And than you become a warewolf once again everything else around you disappearing. The source is inspiration. Awakening. He kept himself such a long time in the dark, and just ONE thought from ancient time had to be combined with toda's ideas, to explode and let something completely new ascend from the heat of thoughts burning up. Writing. Fresh air. Rough drafts. This is the true, untamed, untamable Me sleeping inside of several ones. The Artist, the mad psycho. Some ones never let him out. Youre completely yourself, a lightning flashs trough you, you're electrisized. An Idea. Thoughts circulating. Sparling insanity eyes. There's just the concept and you love it. You just have to allow it, and the words will come on their own and line by line will fill with an unbelievable speed. SEE MY CREATION. THIS IS ME.
12.6.09 21:33

Epic first entry

You heared many sad stories? I bet I can tell you one of the best.

There's this, sitting on his bench once again. He sits there every day, waiting for the bus, listening to "First Day Of My Life" but he doesn't get in, no, he's just waiting for the one he calles "Sunshine" for so many months. Sunshine passes out, leaving not one single look at this boy, standing there until he walks along. 

By that time the boy disappears saying "sorry" wishing he'd always sit and wait because he can't wait one more single day, everyday. It's sunshine. 

Randomly, he saw him at the bus that day he specially had to get in the bus. And he's still waiting. Nobody can him him back from seeing sunshine five days a week. This one thing you miss, 'cause you never get what you want because you always want what you ain't got. You'll never get what you want because you want it.


I wish I could draw, then I'd draw the most beatiful pictures. I'm just a turtle who'll always stay on ground. I'd never fly, because I find it unnessecary, 'cause I'm feeling too free to get free.

Icebird, may your wings heal, and yes, one day, you'll fly into infinity, into nothing, leaving seas of tears behind, which you
never guessed. I have to let you fly, then you're free and nothing, nothing keeps you and you'll fly and fly into infinity, into Nirvana, say hello to freedom. Yes, heart's burning. I don't want to be no turtle, I guess I'm too heavy to fly, so please let me dream. I will cry when you're free, because you'll fly, you gorgeos bird will fly away from me and I'm gonna stand here and cry.

I'm even crying about the thought.

And when you're released I'll still look in the sky and hope that you'll come back from your journey one day.

It's love. Just love. Fly. Please Fly.


12.6.09 15:03

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