I've developed a habit of making myself cups of tea, carrying them upstairs and then, after consumption, just leaving them there, with the teabag and everything, and instead of reusing the cups, I'll use a new one each time. I'm counting 3 on the shelf next to my bed (It's getting to be quite hard to fit another one in there) and 2 on the desk. About once a week, I'll muster up the courage to take them back downstairs, throw out the teabags and put the cups into the dishwasher, though often a slight residue of the bag remains. Last time, 2 of the bags had gone moldy. Things are getting out of hand.
When i feel around the top of my head, i always notice an embayment smack in the middle. It's probably nothing serious but I wonder if it's because i bonked my head once too often. Maybe I wear my headphones so much that my skull has started to reshape in accordance. Maybe my brain has lost copious amounts of mass after years spent laying around watching youtube videos, and my skullcap caved into the now empty space. I know that's nonsense but it keeps me up man
I love amusement parks, but there is always a kind of cheap and shitty quality to them. Rigged carnival games, vomiting kids, jaded employees, empty cans of beer, waiting in lines for hours with a bunch of other sweaty people eating all your home brought snacks, getting sugar rushs and heat stings. Today I've experienced the essence of this aspect: sitting on a dirty toilet in sweat soaked jeans struggling with constipation for 30 minutes while Peppa Pig music blares from the roof speakers.
Took the dog for a midnight walk yesterday. I went withought a light as it's just bright enough to see where you're going, but still dark enough for your ears and nose to take over, wich i love. The route I was taking depended on me walking along an out of order railroad track. As I drew near it, I began hearing voices coming from further down the track. I couldn't make out what they were saying, it's possible that they were speaaking in another language. It's a bit of an awkward scenario to just waltz through there at midnight with my badly behaved dog no doubt dragging me all over the place, but I had to press on to make my circle. I was curious, anyway. as I got closer, I began to make out the shilouettes of what seemed to be a matress, and two people sitting on opposite side of the track, one on the maybe-matress, both without lights like me. their voices only ebbed when I was right inbetween them. I broke the awkward silence by throwing out a quick "Moin", wich they firmly returned, and went on, after wich they immediately continued with their hearty laughs. Those guys were cool as hell, and I wish I could've sat down next to them.
I have had no idea where my phone is since yesterday. Today morning, while making/eating breakfast, I kept nervously pacing around instead of actually eating. It seems I've gotten so used to watching videos or listening to music during my morning routine that not having that background noise makes me deeply uncomfortable. I actually ended up dragging my laptop with its loading cable downstairs and awkwardly place it on the small dining room table behind my toast and tea to resume the fucking FRED retrospective that I was watching when I fell unconscious 7 hours earlier. I have found a new thing to hate about myself.
tired unorganised thoughts on summer: In contradiction to the ruling trends of internet weirdos, summer is my favorite season. It's a season where just existing is nice. You go outside, without having to put anything extra on, and can pretty much just lay down wherever, it's probably comfortably warm. you don't even have to go outside to enjoy summer; even if you spend all day cooped up inside, taking a quick look out the window will reveal refreshing beauty. Because in the summer, everything just looks super fucking pretty. And if the sun's not beaming don at top velocity, it's raining at nicely warm temperatures, and there's no better smell than summer rain. My evaluation of this season might change once i get into uni and actually have to work in the heat. As of right now, the only real annoying downside is trying to sleep. it's just too hot, you're definitely gonna sweat your ass off, and everytime you're close to falling asleep, some bitch insect starts buzzing directly next to your ear. It's just not a season for sleeping. Sun goes down at around 11:30, you begin to see the colors of sunrise at around 3 am, and the time inbetween is brighter than most winter days. Summer is a season for being awake and alive. When I was a kid, summer was also a season of depression. Without school to distract and the daily routine to structure me, my irrational fears (meteors hitting earth/the people i loved, being abducted by aliens, the invasion of a foreign species of squirrels or chipmunks or something that had been predicted by an animal magazine for children to happen around the time i turned 18 wich i thought would destroy the local ecosystem and leave us with nothing for some reason (might have misunderstood something there)) were free to run rampant, wich resulted in a painful awareness of how fleeting the moment was and how easily it could be destroyed by a meteorite/aliens/chipmunks. most of these memories are from when i was at around elementary school age, but there's one as recent as 2016. I remember walking along this litte pretty pathway besides the Rhein in Cologne with my family, when i noticed a thing they use to tell the water levels. The pathway was bustling with people, laughter and life, and I was forced to think about how in 50 or 100 years, it could very well be flooded, along with most of the city and many cities like it (climate change, one of my less irrational fears). Maybe humanity would have already knocked itself out or left the planet by that point, leaving this beautiful lively spot to rot unknown and undiscovered forever, all memories of it forgotten. And these types of things happen without clobal crises, catastrophes and sudden strokes of fate. All the time. Things are destined to rot and crumble, no matter how hard we try to preserve them, partially because we ourselves are destined to rot. This feeling of powerlessness against change lays at the center of all of my fears, as I now realize. Not that I dislike change in general. The cards are just rarely in my hands.
I just don't know what i'm gonna do with my life man. I'm too incompetent for even the most basic jobs. I managed to get fired from a job restacking drinks at a local supermarket after 2 months a few years back. I was unmotivated and tired, as I had usually just gotten out of school when my shift would begin. The way too short playlist of infuriating music they had on in the background drove me insane, and within that feverish state, this socially awkward wreck of a person was contractually obligated to smile and greet every customer they happened to come across. Needless to say I usually kept my eyes glued to the ground and scuffled through the store halls at a snails pace. Wich was really the main reason I got fired: my speed. I am a slow person. Not mentally, but in all other aspects of life. I oscillate between having absolutely no energy and being supercharged, though the bursts of hyperactivity are growing rarer and rarer. The "H" within my ADHD pass has slowly been withering away over the years, so now I'm just an absent minded loser. If no one were there to yell at me, I could lay around all day, stare at the wall and do absolutely nothing until i died of starvation. I don't know how I'm going to keep up with the world. But in a way, I don't even really want to. I would be ok with just living in the trash forever as an ignorant fool. I don't have very high expectations for my life. I'll just go to uni and hope I can get my shit together in time.
I must be so fucking repressed. I feel like if I allowed myself to dedicate to a thought or an opinion or a feeling, I'd constantly be either pissed or devestated. But I don't do it because i always think that I might worsen someones day, that my bullshit could maybe inconvenience them, and who am I to act like what I feel based on absolutely nothing has any merit? Truth is: Nobody knows what they're talking about. But instead of allowing myself to be wrong and make mistakes to learn from or dying on a hill or be the victim of other peoples ignorance, I just keep my ugly little mouth shut and take my pills despite them making me absolutely miserable and unenjoyable to be around. I let myself get dragged down to the niveau of everyone I talk to, never stand my ground, because I'm that scared of being wrong, or just not liked for who I am and what I think. Because being an actual person means facing the possibility of being a knobhead, of taking the wrong path, of having to change; but rebirth neccesitates death, and I'm so scared of death that I'd rather be a nothing, take no path and stay in the elevators and waiting rooms of life forever. Like i'd turn into a stone and attain immortality if i remained perfectly still. I won't. This kind of life style is absolutely worthless and even if it did work, what would it accomplish? What worth has life to a stone? Or a piece of fire wood? I need to become a real person. And maybe this little slice of gibberish on a deserted corner of the internet that no one looks at is just the right playground for me to try myself out as a human.