No one becomes happy, no one finds love. Because it does not exist.

Life is a different one when you are in charge alone.

Without dependence, love loses its pull.
Necessity makes it vast.

This feeling of insecurity and lostness was bred into me and it will probably never completely go away.

We want to be special, don’t we?
We want to be better, more beautiful, etc., don’t we?

Parents help the child to have confidence in themselves and to form their own personality.

With this beginning, the person then approaches like-minded people, forms groups and hopefully a fruitful life.

There is nothing worse than really showing yourself and being punished for it.

It snows and snows, and doesn’t stop.

I feel that when you hurt Esther, it releases love in her. I didn’t do it on purpose. But I guess it is like that.

My feet are starting to walk.

I am talking about my parents’ abuse, not my father’s abuse, because my mother is equally involved in it.

The fact that she let it happen, enabled it and kept it alive, didn’t oppose it and didn’t take my objections seriously then or now, hurts me far more than my father’s doings.

With my father, I knew what I was up against. But I had faith in my mother.

Abuse is not something that happened, but something that happens.

The after-talk waves red flags.

No one can help me

No one will

Liking too many things (and people) wears you out.

You don’t really like these things.

You only open yourself up to them because there is nothing else.

Don’t tell people you love them and you feel better.

It is interesting to see how at the source is the same problem that always produces new solutions, all of which do not help, but are beautiful on their own.

Delicate attempts to walk on the ice of the partriarchy.

At the heart is my mother. In my father I no longer had faith. The bond was too weak. But the breaking away from her, the disappointment in her, hit and hits me much more.

Losing her, or seeing my trust in her shattered, cancels all my will to live. All of my security.

Maybe I don’t need to do and be anything in this life. All I need is my child love. A child love that I never had.

But my language also gets clogged up, tired, if it has no people to which it is directed.

Everything is pain and no way out is there

and yet it comes

It hurts in my eye, it is inflamed. My childhood lies in it and rubs.

I am so hurt by what I wrote to Esther. But we are not getting anywhere. No apology, no words can change it.

There is a human language beyond words.

I think there is an opportunity for white Germans to start over. At the bottom.

Today I told another Lieferando driver who smugly asked about my university degree and age: You shouldn’t judge people based on their age or education. It will make your life much happier.

And yet that’s exactly what my parents did over so many years.

Delivery service is a job that only happens in in-between and non-places.

If you have a problematic partner, it means you don’t want to focus on yourself.

Tomorrow I will be alone again.

Relationship love is weak.

Love is real only in its potential; it is real as a promise.

Unfortunately, confirming all prejudices, I deliver a dystopia of our interpersonal relationships.

But it is not meant to herald a life in shadows, but to free us from never-ending loops of negative attempts at relationships.

Love is a zero-sum game

If someone loves me

I have minus love

That is why the father love is so vast.

Because it also defines the daughter’s strength in the world.

Sometimes I think how many reasons for joy there would be about me. A joy that does not reach me.

I miss my family. Not the family I was born into. But the family I never had.

Many people have no backup, are falling.

But how, after millennia of Gods, do we want to live without them now?

We can plug into a capitalistic society

The origin of love is fundamentally hardship. A hardship of one’s own life that looks to another one.

It is not about the union with another person. It is about looking away. We feel the strongest love with people who make this looking away possible.

There is no person I can talk to. There is no person who is there. I am completely without connection, without a net.

And then I call Esther, and she always answers – thank God or not – and with her I have at least some resemblance of family. Of familiarity, of being heard.

But then she keeps me on distance and it just kills me. What kind of relationship is that? It’s ultimately very alienating and takes all hope away from me.

There is only one thing that really makes you strong and full, and that is vegetables.

How can I feel vitality if I don’t nurture anyone.

Being beautiful to please others
Being beautiful to create something

To make the world persist

It is sad that our society forces us to start from scratch. That it does not like to share its wealth.

A family is a mesh of veins through which people flow and spirit.

If my writings are a family, then then they are not about me. The weave consists of me, and others, but it becomes personless.

People write and read to become aware of something, to prove it, that they actually already knew and preserved before, without the writings.

As long as you expect something, you don’t get it.

You are happy to hear from me.
You are interested in me.
You listen to me.

I dropped out of my family, or I wanted to, out of my culture.

Unlike the table tennis Germans, I have a perspective distant of white class.

My loneliness is not only my failure, but my goal in equal measure.

Loneliness also as a response to an unlivable culture.

I am not willing to argue with people. I want to leave them, and I have been leaving them for years.

I will always fall back on my loneliness if a place may not livable enough.

The other in people is that which is denied because of loneliness and oppression.

And be my pointing all error, it was I.

E. makes me a cold person. I am not cold enough for her. Even speaking normally is already too close for her.

It’s hard for me to be the gentle person I used to be.