Not a dream...

Another sleepless night. And only one Aspirin left. I've already had one, because of the terrible headache that has stolen my sleep. And it's still not giving it back...

Only one Aspirin left. Not enough to commit suicide. It's not like I culd really do it, but I've thought about it hundreds of times. Everytime I start thinking about my hard work and the poor results, about all the wrong I do because of my insatisfaction, about how the world would be a better world without me.

I feel like everybody has grown up and found a place, while I'm stuck in this phase full of doubt and unfullfilled wishes. J is the only person wose presence makes me feel save, like I was home; the only one whose words can make me smile and feel more confident; the only one who can make me forget. But he will go on and grow up someday. Where will I be when that happens. Will there be still a place for me in his world?

I'm still searching for my way. I'm afraid I made too many bad decisions. Isn't someone going to pick me up? I always fled into my dreams when reality tried to destroy me. But now, darkness has reached even the hidden Realm of my fantasy. Where am I? I just want to go home...

Awfull little people

It's been a long time since I felt so much hate for someone. It's the feeling that overcomes you when you know you're totally superior, but you can't do anything because society has made the other one stronger, older, bigger or richer than you. I always tried to avoid that kind of people. But sometimes even I have to fight a battle like that.
The only thing I can do now is wait, have patience and write a new post on my blog proving my English skills that way ;)
I hope you read this, motherf*****!!!!

That feeling...

It sometimes overcomes you. The strange feeling of deep sadness, disappointment and anger. And though you know that you have no right to be mad, you are.
You cry desperately, trying to find something you can break without missing it in a later moment, something that makes a heavy noise when it touches the floor, or the wall. You breathe heavily and shiver. You're getting cold. Your hands make strange movements in order to get something to grap and destroy.
When you look in the mirror you see the ugliest person you've ever seen. Your face is red and lightly swollen. The mirror reflects the picture of a selfish person, the selfish part of you. You feel you'd like to hit the mirror glass, but it wouldn't change things.
Suddenly, you feel sorry. You'd like to take back some of the bad things you said, would like to change what happened. And you hope you'll get the chance to make things right...

I'm sorry

We're human after all...

How could something like that happen? He was used to losing the fight against the enemy, but it had never been so hard to see how useless he was. Sure, he had lost lots of men in all the wars he had started. But the fight had never taken away one of his closer friends.

This time, everything was different. Something had gone wrong and the young soldier Avon had fallen down into the black hole of death. The only witness was the young red-head. When she brought the bad news, he first had thought that she had been the one who had killed tho warrior. But when he had seen the true sadness on her face he had known that she was as shocked as he was and that she could never throw a friend down into the abyss.

He looked to the wagon. There was that big bag with Avon's clothes and other possessions. They'd have to burn or bury them, but maybe there was still something inside they could use for the fight against the bl... He had returned to the topic that had stolen his sleep for the last twelve years, since his mother had been killed by the Black Net. Since he had seen how Net agents cut her throat, he was sure he would cut the throat of those who had done that.

He never really cared about those souls who had joined his teams, those who supported him in his fight against the Net. He never cried when one, or two, or hundreds of them died. But now, it was different. They were only six people, five after Avon's death. And he knew and loved everyone like a brother. Just like he had loved Irion, the daughter of the woman who had raised him after the death of his mother. Since that day, Irion had been like a sister for him. But she had been killed by the Black Net as well...

Suddenly he knew what to do. He looked to his temmates, took a deep breath and said with a loud, clear and decisive voice: "Guys, I never allowed someone to leave my team once they joined it. But facing the facts, I have to let you go... It's more: you must go".

Roots

I'm very thankful for all I've been given. I've learned a lot thanks to the journeys I have made. But when I see those who have grown up together, I still feel the strong desire to have some more connection to my roots.
I left my hometown and everyone who belonged to it when I was just a child. now I live in a completely different place. Here I'm a stranger. My body still discovers my real identity. No one here knew me when I was a child. I'd love to be more like them, but it's impossible. I can become a part of them, but never one of them. I can adat myself to their lifestyle, but I'll never share their roots.
On one hand, this makes me really sad. I don't belong to them, because I come from a different place, and I can't turn around and go back because I don't either belong to the place where I was born because I've been far away for so many years. It breaks my heart.
On the other hand. I couldn't have been luckier. I know many thing others don't know. I've seen places others will neves see. And while my past is wishing to feel the warm sun on its skin, I can really feel it.

Yes, I'm very thankful...

Baguette

I still remember those endless journeys through Europe, only to get from my hometown to the wished Holiday spot near the Spanish coast. We had to travel over, under or through another big country - too big for me.

This is how I learned to hate it. I hate almost everything related to it. I hate the language, the people, the food, the culture, their highways, gas-stations, their cars. I hate (Oh my God, I love you so much just because we're in) Paris, I hate Lyon and Lourdes. I hate their president and their f***ing Topmodel-like First Lady.

I hate the whole area. If the coutry didn't exist, Germany and Spain would be neighbournations. But it does exist. So, I guess I'll have to keep on living with it.

But one day, when my BatCat rules the world, we're gonna eliminate them all.

Destroy France!

We all know this feeling... It simply comes over you. Slowly... just to slit your wrist, to get into your veins and to follow them to your heart. This strange feeling... the need to kill.

It doesn't happen with he first person you see on a monday morning... It can't be anyone. (if you stop caring about who you want to kill, you could be considered dangerous and should call the ambulance immediately. The nice people are going to help you and soon the friendly men in white will appear. So, don't worry. Leave it to them.)

Usually, when we unconditionally want to see blood, this might happen with someone we really hate. When we start to analyse the differences between social groups and ages, we'll see that the objective of our hate and anger can vary. For a fourty year old man from a higher class, it could be the boss, his wife or his ex-wife. For a thirty year old woman, it's her husband and her mother-in-law. University students between 17 and 25, usually hate their parents... or their teachers.

And so, I saw him sitting on that table, just like I always do it (Chairs are often too low for me). In that moment I thought he could be something like a human. Of course, it was only a stupid idea; THAT couldn't really be a human being. I tried one more time to listen to his words, but with every past second it became more difficult. Would I be able to survive? When I already could hear the sweet sound of the bells of death, my mind floated away and saved my poor soul. I closed my eyes...


When I opened them, I only saw total emptiness. There was no light fountain in that place, but I could see everything, even though the not existing walls were black...
I started to run, but it felt like I couldn't move. I began to panic and tried to stretch my arms and legs to reach anything - but it was useless. Then... he appeared.

He was wearing the same clothing as a few minutes before in the classroom. Without thinking about it, I got closer. I didn't even notice that I was able to move again. He didn't seem to see me. I called his name, but he didn't react. Then I saw the big table behind me. On it, I found lots of weapons like guns, knifes and other blades, and different types of poison. I took a knife and imagined how it could feel to slit his throat. But I forgot that soon. It would be too fast and it wouldn't hurt him enough. So I took a bigger knife and started to cut his toes... one by one.
But his only reaction was that awful, ugly smile on his face.

I was torturing him and he was still smiling? After seeing that, I hated him even more. I took the knife and cut a clear line from his mouth down to his chin, on the right side of his face. Then, I did the same thing on the other side. Great! Now, he wasn't smiling anymore. But I wanted to see tears. I pushed the knife through his skin right under the eye. Immediately, red tears started to run down his cheeks. I was happy... I had created ART.