Friday, August 23


I could possibly be the loneliest person on the planet. Don't get me wrong, people are contacting me all the time, but they are all new, nobody I know, strangers. Who wants to see me naked, fuck me or worse. But that's all they want. Just to make sure. I just want to fuck you, would you agree to that? No. I need an emotionally sustainable relationship. But that's not going to happen. Why? Well, because every time I get to know someone, friend or lover, it's all great in the beginning, the first weeks or sometimes months even, but then all of sudden everything changes. They give me the silent treatment, slam the door in my face, kill my cat, steal from me, rape me, spit on me, talk shit about me or something worse. Either google decided that was the right thing for them to do, or someone who discovered our new friendship called them up and convinced them it was the right thing to do.
If I from the beginning tell them about that horrible story they will get suspicious and start treating me like shit right away or pretend to be my friend so they can find out how they can really hurt me. What really happened back then nobody cares about, the truth has become so distorted by now and as you may well know a lie finally becomes the truth if enough people believe in it. So I have decided to give up. I'm not going to make any effort to make new friends or find some loving partner. Because I can't put myself in a vulnerable position like that again and it's basically impossible for me to trust anyone for that matter. If you have been let down so many times, it doesn't matter that you want to trust, you just can't. It's the same with profession. I can be the greatest artist, writer, researcher, dancer, singer, musician, actress or whatever, just because I am who I am I will never be successful. I will never be allowed to be seen in the fine salons. A dove had crashed into my window and lied dead on my balcony with a puddle of blood around its head. I though about taking a picture, because it was beautiful even in death, but I thought it would have been tasteless. Instead I took out my plastic gloves and wrapped it in household paper and put it in a plastic bag. I will take it out to the garbage room tomorrow. That dove is me, trying to get inside, but just dying all the time. I've been crying since about five in the afternoon until now. Tears are still coming, but not as much. Tampon inserted. Not that anybody fucking cares.

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