i have never not been sad
i have always been more sensitive than anyone i know
at my best times i was only mildly depressed
worst times i chose to die

sometimes i feel like living


i like dirty things
broken things
worn down surfaces
minds and things at their breaking point

that’s what i relate to

but i hate suffering
seagulls with broken wings sadden me
women with tears in their eyes are my horror

i was happy once, for 5 years

out of 40 years, 5 have been good, and now i cling to those years and cry and cannot move on

i used to be a truck driver in my youth

i hated that job so much, i still see nightmares from it constantly, 15 years later

it wasn’t my own choice, i was manipulated and coerced into it, and i was weak and knew nothing and couldn’t stand up for myself at all: i just obeyed

for 5 years i barely slept (pro tip: if u already suffer from insomnia, do not become a truck driver)
my health got fucked and i haven’t been the same since. one evening in autumn of 2009 something in me snapped, like a cord from my brain to my body broke, i became dizzy and my legs went weak. no amount of checks in hospital and doctors office resulted in any explanation, it seems my mind broke i guess. after that my ability to work has been shit, i have no tolerance for stress and i get exhausted quickly — except when i have my manic episodes, praise the lord for those

im a history geek, not because i love history, but because history to me is the ultimate mindfuck

think about this metro station, how many millions, or tens or hundreds of millions of people have taken the metro from here? what happened to all of them, what was the combined weight of their emotions?

where did they all go, how were their lives? how many people have waited for the metro here, with love in their heart, going to meet someone, feeling more alive than ever?

i remember feeling like i was surfing underground, with my knees slightly bent, air rushing in from the open windows, the walls of the tunnel visible, the train swaying under my feet

This is one of the first pictures i took that i liked myself, but the few people i showed it kinda laughed or chuckled - which maybe means they liked it, but i saw in it the horrible pain and longing i felt so there was absolutely nothing fun about it.

life is empty and boring

there is no “us”, we are not in this together, there is no community without lies and mutual theater

fake happiness is everywhere

let’s admit the humankind is a failure: we are talking apes, nothing more

biological robots programmed to search for something that does not exist

for some reason, my whole life i have kept so many secrets, all of which were hurting me while i kept them. how stupid and weak

i was programmed like that: have a good time or at least convince others that your having a great time.

but i have always been in pain

great times yes, occasionally, mostly when deciding to die and not caring anymore.

mostly mental pain, anxiety, depression, fear, neurotic loops never ending

hiding my disgust

forcing myself to enjoy

what, empty conversations, meaningless sex, hard work to make others rich?

just be tough!

for what? so that i could keep working a bit longer?

“you’re a grown up man aren’t you”

no i’m not, what does that even mean? I should do as you say because you used and extremely obvious rhetoric tool?

I’m not a man. I’m a bitch.

You hear that, BIG OTHER?

I am depressed, dark, pessimistic, heavy minded, lazy, hedonistic fucking idiot and you can go fuck yourself

I once spent about 6 hours in Japan — isn’t that weird? That it’s possible?

Suddenly 17 years went by and im still not famous, liked, accepted, rich, masterful, or anything, just older and a bit more aware