don't shout at me - not you, too.

It breaks my heart. It does.
Even if it's not your fault. Even if I did the same.
Don't push me away.

honey puffs

Flo caught a cold yesterday. He had a fever by the time I was getting ready to go. Weirdly enough, it was pretty funny. He is the craziest person when he's sick. He started changing the lyrics of children's songs and sang about me and his sister, then about sharks being eaten up by pandas. So much for the overall sanity of my surroundings.
As you see this is a fairly normal post for once. I feel okay for now so I might as well pull myself together and write in full and coherent sentences.
Actually all I wanted to say is that I'm so lucky to have found Flo. He accepts me, he doesn't shy away when he sees that there's something wrong with me, he endured it when I had an anger outbreak and held me until I stopped trying to beat the crap out of him, he stays by my side no matter how fucked up I am. He isn't afraid to stay. He doesn't care that I am far from perfect. He's just there for me, like an island of stability in my life, because God only knows how warped everything else is.
I've decided that the next time something happens, I'm going to seek medical help. Not just because I have to swallow my pride and finally admit that I can't do this alone, but for the sake of the people around me. It's a burden for them, too.

/P.

sunday song

Unproductive day of rest.
What to do, what to do.
Gay blow-jobs and boar killings.
Repetitive thoughts all day long, all night long.
Never trust a brothel owner who loves your wife.
150 shades of absolute nothingness.
Light at the end of the tunnel.
Dinner with the new 'family'.
His warmth.
His warmth.
Late night trip home.
Echo of his warmth.
Unplanned nap in the train.
Ellie.
Home bittersweet home.

/P.

jame lennister looks like prince charming in shrek

Not pregnant, why the assumptions.
Sole uno, only one, sun one, what's the meaning.
Bubbles.
Happy pills.
Bubbles.
Want his warmth.
He doesn't have any control over himself.
Because he doesn't have a father.
He doesn't listen to him, either.
Old train wagons.
Americanos bitching around.
Lies and excuses are left unseen.
Bitch king (prince) ftw.

/P.

( E.S.T. = electric shock therapy)

my head hurts

I'll let you in on a secret.
Well, it's not really a secret.
Or maybe it is.
Does it count as a secret when many people know?
I guess not.
It's not a secret then.
So I won't let you in on it, because you already know.
I'm losing my mind.

seduction

It's past seven.
Racist white vitamin chocolate.
Inner turmoil = snowstorm in a desert.
Re-read old messages.
He promised to write in the new year.
Chica, get your shit together.
Mental mentalist mentality.
Nikita chiquita banana.
Ellie Goulding - Lights (single version)
Mirror mirror on the wall.
Fuck you, Lana.
Baby don't fade away.
The higher the rise, the longer the fall.
One doesn't compare.
Paint it on the walls.
Where's the fire.
Don't know, but it's warm and pretty.
Confused.
Here, have a tissue.

/P.

sakura

Sleep, hope not to wake up.
Wake up.
You have no new messages.
Pain in the ass.
Coffee machine stalls.
A horse called Frou-Frou.
Warm milk gone cold.
Draw and hope it looks artistic.
Bubble tea.
Brother and friend.
Noodles all over the place.
You have no new messages.
Here with these imperfections.
Guilty little black sheep.

/P.

The Requiem

God save us everyone
Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns
For the sins of our hand, sins of our tongue
Sins of our father, the sins of our young

daddy don't you die on me

Body hurts.
Gravity is strong.
SPD people talking about stuff.
'Emotionally traumatised class'.
Mauvaise prémonition.
Grill fire in the hot zone.
Messed up texts.
They're so cute.
Cooler than boyfriend.
Empty but glad about it.
Ellie.

/P.

delirious

I wake up to a small hand caressing my hair. My first thought is that that's the way I usually put Ellie to sleep. I open my eyes, and sure enough, there she is, looking at me with big, green, awaiting eyes.
'Habby befday mommy!' She says and hugs me in that awkward manner each three-year-old has.
'Hey', I mumble into her hair. 'Was isch für ziit?'
'Time fow pancakes', she exclaims. I laugh.
'Okay honey. Time for pancakes.'
She pulls me into the kitchen while I try to organise my hair a bit while trying to keep in pace with her while stooping down while yawning.
The kitchen is bright, full of sunlight. There's a large plate of pancakes on the table and a little box tied in a red bow. F's leaning against the stove with a steaming cup of what smells like coffee in his hand. When I come in, he comes up to me, plants a kiss on my forehead and hands me the cup.
'Alles Gueti zum 30. Geburtstag, min Schatz', he murmurs.
'Köne mi jez ässe?' Ellie pipes up.
F reaches for the little box on the table. He takes out a silver bracelet and slides it onto my wrist.
'...Und zum 10. Johrestag.'
The sickle moon dangling from the chain glistens.
'Danke', I breathe.
'Mommy!' Ellie whines. She clings onto my pyjama pants, almost pulling them down.
F grabs her and spins her around like an airplane, while she starts squealing with delight.
I take a sip of my coffee. The sun is bright in the window frame. It's mid July. Life's good.

supernova

Wake up.
Grab a brush and put a little make up.
(System Of A Down reference)
Overslept.
History.
Get your absences right.
Arms burn.
Weird because you can write that.
New play director.
What to do.
Why police.
People crying.
Cry at home.
Say everything's okay.
Warm hug.

/P.

save me

Feel empty again.
Up and down - the higher, the lower.
Dragons incubate so long.
Clean up a drawer, it makes you feel positive.
Call, say you love.
Help forget.

/P.

Sleepyhead

Wake up.
Move over sleepily.
Wake up.
He's gone.
Wake up.
He's back.
Watch races.
Brush hair.
Put make-up on.
He's asleep.
Cuddle.
Get dressed.
Bus is warm.
Train is quiet.
Yoko Kanno mix.
Mother is surprised.
Would you like a week-end house.
Hungry.
Church.
Lara's place.
Nice food.
Smiles and laughter.
Losers singing on TV.
Forget time.
Icy streets.
Home in good mood.

/P.

icy palm-trees outside

Clean room.
Lola says hi.
Tram on time.
Loud music.
Groups of people.
Mayday Mayday.
Wait for teacher.
Absence book missing.
Loud voices.
Hedda is the man.
Forced surrogate mothers.
Learn geography.
Get injection.
Late for art class.
Johnny B.
New project.
Home again.
Get pretty.
Dance 'til feel alive.

/P.

creepy seagull cry

Unexpected challenge in the morning.
No hunger, no food.
Snow starts falling.
Drink dat vitamin drink.
Music discussion.
Boredom.
Draw a shoe and a dress.
Snow keeps falling.
Can't dance, then learn it.
Question game.
Stop answering.
Chest is going to implode any moment.

/P.

mechanical lullaby

I realize that my recent posts have been a bit disturbing.
I could have written about other things, like how my boyfriend loves me and how my mother is finally trying to discipline my brother, or that I'm lucky to have good friends who are always there for me.
But I didn't.
While there's a lot of good stuff happening around me, my mind remains the same. The shadows and monsters are all still there. So I choose to write about them. It gives me a sense of release, in a way. By writing about them I can get them out of my head for a while.

/P.

I used to want to be a cowboy.

Sometimes, it's daily things like getting into a fight with my brother. But then it escalates. We start saying things that aren't okay, even for brother-sister-bitchfight standards. I regret saying them afterwards, though I don't know whether he ever gives his own actions a second thought. What I do know is that he gets affected strongly by what people say to and about him. I say things to him that make me want to cry later on. And I say them fully aware of what impact they have on him. I deliberately hit him at his weakest points. Hard.

Sometimes, it's less frequent things like standing on a platform at the train station waiting for the S3. But then my mind goes wild. I start imagining me, jumping onto the tracks and just starting to walk, my earphones on and the music on full volume so when the train comes I won't hear a thing. I'd go out with a song, like in a film. I regret thinking of it immediately, I get chills down my spine for imagining such things. If I could, I'd erase those thoughts; 'un-think' them, so to speak. But I can't. And when the train finally arrives, I'm relieved that I can get in like a normal person and sit in a warm compartment and be alive.

Sometimes, it's rare things like sitting in class with nothing to do. But then I start thinking too far. I start wanting to curl up in a ball and explode, erasing everything in a giant blast of heat and destruction. The whole planet Earth wiped out, reduced to floating chunks of rock and soil. Eliminate mass destruction with universal destruction. Quick and efficient.

I'm petrified of my own thoughts and actions.
I'm afraid of thinking at all at times.
I'm scared of myself.

/P.

I'm scared of loving him too much.

Wake up on time.
Run to platform.
Read book.
Picked up with a kiss.
Cold outside, warm under the covers.
Four times.
Scratch marks.
Readjust make-up.
Get in car.
Feel lost and distanced.
Injured ankle.
3:0 against los burritos.
Take my girlfriend with you.
He likes to run over cats.
Striped shirt déjà vu.
Don't be so uptight about your brother.
Wonder if respected by him.
Wind made by passing train.
Sing silently walking home.
Mother takes time to open door.
Kiss mark still there.
Watch youtube films.
Text sounds of police car accident.
Try to fall asleep without dreaming.
No nightmares this time.

/P.

shadows on the hills

I haven't been at school this week.
Partly because I was sick with the flu, partly because I was physically incapable of leaving my room for two days. I would just start shaking all over and feel dizzy. So I stayed in my room, sitting on my bed, thinking about what a failure I am. It would die down in the evening and I'd go and drink some tap water, but that's it. I wasn't able to do anything.

I feel like I'm disappointing a lot of people with the whole repetition thing. Mostly my parents, particularly my father. And I'm ashamed of it. I have proven to be a failure and the way he talks to me now, the phrases and formulations and the tone of his voice - all of it is just dripping with disappointment and reproach. I don't really blame him for it. I could have done better. But I didn't. And I can't help thinking that I am a failure every time I set eyes on my current class, my old classmates, the school building, the teachers...
The thing is, I don't want to be a failure. I want to show that despite this incident, I am able to achieve something in life. That I'm not a good-for-nothing. Because, frankly, if I've come this far, I can go further.

But you see, here's the snag: I am sick and tired of everything. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Or just disappear. Just like that; vanish into thin air. Poof - and I am no more. I bet that would disappoint even more people. Whatever I do, it's disappointing. So wouldn't it be better if I stopped doing anything at all?

/P.

superman isn't real

Empty.
Synonyms: void, hollow, drained.

Need.
Synonyms: want, require, lack.

Affection.
Synonyms: love, fondness, warmth.

roses in winter

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
Now, before anyone starts discussing whether we have a soul or not, let me clarify: to me, the source of our emotions and thoughts, the thing that makes us unique and individual - basically the roots of our character, so to speak - is our soul. Others may call it heart or head, but it's all just a figure of speech since we don't exactly know how it works. So I just choose to speak of a soul.

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
We are fragile. No matter how strong we may appear on the outside, no matter how hard we try to stay upright and show that we're apparently unaffected, we are as fragile as a crystal droplet falling to the ground.
Sometimes, when we fall, we can stand up again almost immediately. It seems that we're not hurt at all. It feels like it, too. That's because the cracks are too small to notice. Then, after falling repeatedly, the cracks get larger, then pieces start breaking off, until we lie there, shattered, unable to get up anymore.
There are people who have shattered souls for most of their life. They're the ones that show no emotion whatsoever. Some of them have no souls to start with. That's makes them so strong. Because no matter how many times they fall, there's nothing there to break.
But there's also those who are ready to help and collect all the shards and glue them back together bit by bit. They help you get on your feet again. They give you warmth and hope. And though you can see the places where the shard were put together again, they only serve as proof that you were able to stand up, and that you have other souls that care for you.
Those that have no porcelain doll inside them can't ever experience that. And that's what makes them so inferior; despite their strength and persistence, their lives are lonely and meaningless.

Every human soul is like a living porcelain doll.
Play with it too roughly, and it breaks.
Don't risk hurting people. It's not like you'd like to experience that kind of pain yourself, right?

/P.

sorry for being cheesy before

I can't believe I have to go to school again tomorrow. It's like I can't even stop to catch my breath because life rushes on without waiting for me and then I have to sprint to catch up. And so we rush on - life up ahead, me barely holding up the pace and my energy lagging behind.
Everything seems to be going so fast these days.

/P.

my favourite kind of 13

We won.
Lots of kisses then.

I'm starting to think that it actually wouldn't be bad to have him by my side for the rest of my life. He loves me, he'd do anything for me... and I keep catching myself smiling when I think of him. I care for him a lot.
I can't say wether it's true love. Right now it's probably more a kind of mixture of love, dependency and egocentrism.
But I want to see him happy and I want to be a part of that happiness. I want to share the best moments of my life with him. I want him to be with me and feel his warmth and know that he's there for me.
You know, maybe it's true love after all. But who am I to judge what's true love and what's not? It's alway true - until it's not.
I wish for my love to last this time. Not just my love, but his love. I wish for things to work out. For us to remain 'us'.

/P.

blonde boobs on the train (he's not interested)

Slept over at F's today. The poor thing had to restrain himself because of my 'lady problem'.
Apparently I took over three thirds of the bed but I woke up pressed against the wall so I think it may have been the other way round for some time at least.
It was a weird feeling to wake up next to him. Pleasant, but weird.

We're going to Riehen for a match now - first match I'm gonna watch. If he loses, no more kisses. And if he smokes another cigarette, no more kisses either.
He won't stop if he doesn't have any consequences to fear.

pure heroin(e)

Ambiguous remarks. A specialty in this family, it seems.
Either it's the fear of being branded as 'the one who says bad things about the other one', or it's the wish to manipulate an opinion just enough to plant a thought that's beneficial only to one party. Which is basically the same thing, now that I think of it.
Ah, good old family.

I was sick the last few days, and I'm beginning to think that it's not a cold but my body compensating emotional stress. I happen to fall sick every time the father has had a chat with me (said chat usually consisting of the father presenting a monologue for up to four hours straight). And let's be honest; sometimes, loading too much information and sickening, saddening, upsetting facts into one's child's brain isn't the best parenting method. Especially if it's done for four hours straight.
And then it doesn't matter whether he's right or not, it's just not done.

/P.