In The Moonlight

Sie reden über den neuen Freund einer Freundin, über aktuelle Beziehungen und Hochzeitspläne. Ich sitze dabei und gebe vor, zuzuhören. Sie fragen mich nicht nach meiner Meinung, was mir ganz recht ist. Als ich einen Moment alleine mit A. bin, meint sie, ob ich denn etwas gegen heiraten hätte, weil ich doch nicht gläubig bin. Erst bin ich überrascht dass sie meine Präsenz anerkennt, dann sage ich ich bin nicht negativ eingestellt gegenüber Heirat, doch für's Heiraten bräuchte man eine Beziehung. Sie nickt, die anderen kommen wieder. C. erzählt davon, wie ein Typ aus unserer Schulzeit ihr immer wieder schreibt, während sie doch eigentlich nichts von ihm will. Oder vielleicht auch doch. Whatever. I gebe weiterhin vor, zuzuhören. Als sich zum Kochen alle in die Küche verziehen, bleibe ich ein paar Minuten zurück, um mich für eine weitere Runde Beziehungstratsch zu stählen. Nun geht es um eine gute Freundin von A. , die in einer Beziheung mit einem Arschloch ist. Alle stimmen A. zu, als sie sagt den Typen würde sie in die Wüste schicken. Ich nicke, doch ich denke, mir wäre selbst der Schmerz einer schlechten Beziehung lieber als gar keine Beziehung. So wie es Three Days Grace einmal treffend ausdrückten "Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all". Nach einem Abend voller Oberflächlichkeiten sitze ich wieder zu Hause und denke nach. Das sollte ich mir abgewöhnen, denke ich. Jedesmal, wenn ich zu viel nachdenke, fühle ich mich danach beschissener als davor. Dieses Mal denke ich darüber nach, ob ich vielleicht einfach nicht fähig zu Liebe bin. Sozial verkrüppelt. Emotional gescheitert. Was, wenn ich wirklich nicht fähig bin, mich zu verlieben? Wäre das nicht vielleicht sogar gut, wenn ich darüber nachdenke, dass mich doch sowieso keiner haben will?
Ich muss mir das wirklich abgewöhnen, denke ich, als sich meine Augen langsam befeuchten. Hmm. Vielleicht mal an meinen Songs weiterschreiben, denke ich. "Alone in the Dark" wähle ich aus. Wunderbar. Nach einigen Zeilen fühle ich mich noch beschissener. Sollte mir Musik nicht eigentlich helfen? Ich klappe mein Songbuch zu und starre meinen Bildschirm an. Vielleicht einfach schlafen gehen.

It's official now. The World Hates Me.
Having an exhausting day at work with all the new products coming in and stuff, if was glad when it was over at midnight. I walk around the corner and it takes a few seconds for my brain to register whats wrong with the picture I see.
Where's my bike, dude?
Where's my fucking bike?
On closer look I find my lock cut through, dangling on the bike rack. Actual bike nowhere to be seen.
Like... what the fuck?
Calling my grams (I knew she would still be awake) and asking her if she could check if my mom's still awake (fat chance, yeah...) Answer's no, as expected.
So I walk home the 1,3 miles (appr 2 km). At 0:15am.
I couldn't help but laugh at the whole situation.
I still don't know what excactly struck me as funny about all this...
My father's gonna be mad.
Hell, I am mad.
I guess. If it wouldn't be so funny.

There's times it's better, and there's times it's worse.
Reading or watching any sort of Romance usually makes it worse. She's still young but she fells like she has the sadness of a lifetime accumulated.
Do you know the german novel "Bitterschokolade" (dark chocolate)? It's about this overweight girl, Eva, with no self confidence, who thinks she will never be truly loved because she's ugly. Then this guy turns up, and with a couple of arguments she suddenly believes him that she is worth being loved. Just like that.
When she read the book she got really angry about the authors solution. If the feelings of the protagonist Eva were anywhere near hers, it wouldn't be that easy to teach that girl that it was indeed possible for her to be loved.
It would take more than a little petty talk. Words...
Words are not enough to make her love herself again, when every look in the mirror makes her hate herself even more. She's trying hard to only see her good sides, but all she can come up with is "nice eyes". Then she looks closer, seeing that one eye is somewhat lower than the other. "People won't notice" she says out loud, "But I know" whispers a sad voice inside her.
She knows there's people with deformed faces or whatnot, who have it way worse than her. Knowing that, hating herself for her looks only makes her detest herself even more, for how could a human being be so self-centered?

She's gazing to the stars for help, but as usual, there's no answer to be found there. Her heart is aching. What hurts the most is that she doesn't even know what makes her feel so goddamn sad and empty.
Is it because of her mother, who likes money better than her own daughter..? No, she's convinced that she forgave her mother a while ago, and she knows that she will be leaving for university soon anyway. Then is it because she found herself in the situation of realizing that her friends are getting closer to each other, while she is slipping more and more out of the picture..? Is it because she doesn't feel alive? Is it because she feels alone, even when she's with other people? Or is it because she can't stand the way her friends are talking about their bodies, like they have it bad, while sitting right next to her?
She doesn't understand. Nobody understands, and nobody can lend her a hand in figuring it out. She listens to her friends and the only thing she notices is how shallow their words are. How they laugh about matters that shake her deep in her heart, and then don't seem to notice how she retreats in her thoughts. They don't notice, or do they just not care? Her chest is filled with aching and her head can't figure out why. She thinks about cutting herself again, because the pain of the cuts can cover up the pain in her heart. But it's summer and she doesn't want anybody to know... She's too rational to fall back into the old patterns of cutting her arms. It's too obvious and unpractical. People usually don't pay attention as she learned the first time round, but the risk of being found out is too high.
But what else is left? Spending money and eating stuff makes her feel better, but only for so long until she regrets buying something she doesn't really need, or regrets the pounds that make her even more... unpretty. That only makes her detest herself even more for being too weak. There seems to be no way out but to endure, like she always did.
But why? Why is she feeling this way? There's thousands and thousands of people who got it worse and she has no reason to feel this way.
So why?
If she only knew why.

Mein Blog hat jetzt einen neuen Titel.
"The Making of Moonstone" war einfach nicht mehr passend, da ich kaum über mein Buchprojekt geschrieben habe =D

I'm scarred for life.
I was young and dumb and needed the money made a mistake.
Because since that dreadful day, whenever somebody says "We're in this together!", be it either in a book, a movie or a TV-show, my head goes: "We're all in this together/ And it shows/ When we stand/ Hand in hand/ Make our dreams come true"

I mean, yeah, I often have those days where everything ppl say is a trigger for a song in my head to start, but this.... it always does the trick. Always.
So, like I said, scarred for life.
Screw Highschool Musical.