Tuesday, February 15, 2011

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However

It's strange. I do not know how I would feel me.
I stand before the exams, I would be nervous, at least make me think. Nothing.
I do not care. Total care. Whether I passed or not, totally irrelevant. This could be due to the facilitation of the intermediate examination. I do not know.
I'm happy, sometimes when I concentrate on what I have and had achieved.
If not, it seems like an emotionless bladder. Nothing matters.
Then again, do not grieve, to death, I find no description available for this area that could fit.
like a shadow. But not this kind of melodramatic emo-shade. Just a shadow. Cool and a little darker than the rest, nothing else. Like a faint echo from the inside.
Or I'm feeling at all. Like a robot. Get up, shower, get to eat. All without their own thoughts or feelings knotted it. Somehow I feel numb. And this is strange because it annoys me. But not seriously enough. Basically, it's just me again no matter.
Then again put my thoughts in the past and do not let go of what was. If that was now so bad that one would have to take refuge there.
I was in my grandma's house. That was such a situation. It was as if I would just go home, like thousands of times before, through the same door, in the same apartment. As if nothing had happened. And when I opened the door, it was just as suffocating. Or drown. As a blast of icy water, a work of art would have washed away easily. I opened the door and had the kitchen in the head, as I had left it the last time, with every tiny detail. The color of the curtain in the laundry room, the image of the calendar next to the microwave, the shelf with the André Rieu cassette that I recorded when I was 10, on the table, the door with the bell. Everything still there. But only in my head. Only the lamp remains. And still hanging in every corner of a memory, no matter where the eye wanders, everything has its own history, nothing has faded. That is then a kind of bitter sweet Pain because I here at home was because I was always happy here because it was all well and good. And then everything broke. This is now 8 years ago. Since I was 3 times in the apartment. It still hurts. But that was a living, healing pain. And all that brought the following years I just do not care. Like all the rest does not matter all phenomenal. I find the idea funny unpleasant that people move here that I do not know. This feels wrong because my family belongs to this house, because I also go into one of them. I would like to move, although the absolute nonsense would be. But other people, which was unnatural. And then I went home, back to Bremen. And it was somehow okay. What is
, Max, now I need a psychiatrist?

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