Pudding breakfast.

In the kitchen yet I could think better

When you are with someone
You have to deal with their whims
I have to pick up broken pieces so often
They should be my broken pieces

In the end, it’s all about validation, being needed, love, needing others, loving others, validating others.

In the evening I get weak, and it is strange because I go into my days off from work with so much hope and urge, and then, after two days, I realize how lonely I am, how I don’t know how to go on.

People do not know any common activity. Or the activity is merely: to work.

And then yet, there are the girls. Are there the girls who see me. Find me beautiful. Are most afraid. Are insane, have their problems. And I don’t want them neither. I want a society. I want to be in a pool with others. In a class, in a group, in an association. I want to be present in the midst of people. Within whom I can blossom. As such they can see me. And in their place I cease to languish.

But that I today did, now did, wanted for me something good, or burned deeply from within, beds my pain; calms it.

The German language is a gift. And even if Germany has spilled with firmest certainty all shine (it has fallen off irretrievably somewhere in the course of world time), this shine AND FIRST OF ALL THE LOVE is embedded in this language. Because that nobody never says. Only that the language rules over us as a system of power, holds all abominations and oppresion in itself. But not, that LOVE, everything therefore, is just as kept in it, contained in it. And that it also continues to have its effect as a SYSTEM OF BRINGING TOGETHER, as a power opportunity of the good, and perhaps, over the times, has done not too bad of a service for love.