no name fitting

What have I been thinking. Getting all riled up to write and then when I begin, it all flowing away. Clearly a lack of inspiration. Lots and lots has and will have changed.

I figure my father is a major character in the play that is my life. I also figure that he has been the one who defines my life. If he does something, I try to do it the other way. My father has been living my life for me. That might just sound right. I don’t like my father. After a period of hope for him, I kinda just left that one time when he got angry at my mother while being angry at me, saying all kinds of stuff my mother thinks should not be repeated. I figure it was about him being very very lonely.

I am someone… who knows what being lonely in a crowd of people is and how it affects you. I’ve lived most of my life that way. And I think I’d prefer death over going through that again. Hat period, in hindsight, was the most unhappy period. Which led up to December 2009. Where I was at the point of killing myself. Afraid of being alone at new years eve. Go sit in the basement cry drink a bottle of whiskey or some other drink containing lots of alcohol smoke and take a load of painkillers. I don’t have the guts to hang or cut myself, so I’ll just take the horribleness of choking to death in your own puke for granted.

I have no sympathy for my father. When I stood on the edge of suicide because of loneliness. I have a feeling I know what he is going through but I don’t feel sympathy. And the following pathetic reason may explain why. It has come to the point where I just want distance from him. No love and no hate to give just get away and let me have the time to figure out how I really feel about you.

The moment you’re truly mature is the moment you start living on your own. Which is a thought an idea a notion I wholly disagree with. Because what do you –learn- when you go live on your own. Responsibility. You’re going to die of hunger and thirst if you don’t feed yourself and if you don’t pay your water bills. You’re gonna smell if you don’t do laundry and clean your house. And get diseases. But something I have learned from other people is that they – change – when they start living on their own.

Good and wrong exist and what I’m doing is clearly right. Good and wrong is a concept I’ve touched before in vain attempt of maybe convincing they don’t exist. Only to now realize they do. Because they’re an idea. A concept. Just like fairness, beauty and equality are concepts that “exist”. Not as something you can measure or see. But something you feel. You cannot see them, yet they are there, being.

For the longest time, I guess, you were far ahead of me. And at some point you must’ve stopped, paused, to let others catch up to you or to take a breather. And then you never left that even when other long passed you and were yelling and telling you to come join them.

When I look at my father’s family, I see people who are not really disconnected. They all have the idea family should be close to each other. Though his siblings and parents don’t seem to be that at all. They all treat each other pretty harshly, I guess. I think his parents, my grandparents, might have been nazi collaborators in WW2 or something, because one thing which really stands out is how they never told anything about their life. Though I never really asked. And I guess nobody ever did. His family is full of silence. My father has about 5 or so stories about maybe the first 18 years of his life until he went to college and he stars in none of him. He isn’t even a side character in any of them. I think he used to be the black sheep at home and picked on and isolated throughout his school career. And then about his time in university he has only boasting and flaunting of his physical strength as he was a rower.

My father has effectively never told me anything about himself. About how he feels and how he thinks. The “discussions” I’ve had with you, the latest one I can recall is a very very short one about democracy of autocracy or anything and how I thought that people can live their lives regardless, all you had to say “if we don’t live in a democracy a lot of people will be unhappy” and you said it repeatedly. I was 19 at the time. And my point wasn’t stupid. Or unelaborated. You have your beliefs and your beliefs are “right” you will force your righteousness upon others because you have the power of those who are right.

I figure you want to be a good citizen. You want to obey the law, go vote every election, follow the unwritten rules of our society. That everybody should work for the benefit of our society. And that in and of itself is not a bad aspiration. I believe it was Socrates who first wrote that a good citizen and a good person are two things completely independent of each other.

A good person in my opinion, a mature person. Has the courage to open himself to others and the power to understand.

And those are exactly the things you’ve never learned. Never done. And the things I am only now beginning to learn. Most of my life has been a waste. I was picked on in primary school, I was picked on and isolated in middle school and just isolated in high school. And in university the same isolation continued. In hindsight… I’ve been wondering for a while now if it wasn’t my own social incapability. If it wasn’t – me – who isolated himself. And the older I grow, the more I think that that is the case. I think I can now say that because I’ve come to be at peace with what happened during those years. How I called a boy’s mom a bitch just to sound cool and getting it blown into a scandal. God that was embarrassing. Reminds me how teachers will try to drill you into the ground “to make you learn from your mistakes” instead of understanding and truly learning from your mistakes. One other time, I threw a piece of wood high upwards into the air, randomly. And it hit a kid who was like 20 metres away in the head. And everyone ganged up on me. I can’t remember how I got out of that situation.

Last time he got angry. I had a talk with him. He kept going on and on about how he thought I knew him and that he would have done that immediately and not put it into the basement, that he meant something with that. And how I could have been so stupid and how it cost him a lot of money. And he repeated that for like half an hour. And the I said I know that it’s not about that because you’re lonely. To which he replied yes! I am lonely. Nobody ever talks to me.

One thing I’ve noticed in my father is how he can’t have a real conversation with anyone. He rather holds a monologue. Or is listening to one. Nobody ever talks to me. Instead of talks with me. Peculiar peculiar. I myself have noticed that I can’t converse well, either. Only through stuff like MSN. My voice sounds unnatural. My mind goes blank and I can’t think properly.

Looking back on my life, 20 years long now. I have the feeling I’ve wasted most of it. The earliest memory I have is of when I was 3 or so, when my mother put me on my stool on the bicycle to bring me to the daycare centre. An image. The one after that is me sitting on some big sewage tubing on my school playground after school, as an upper class boy takes my bag and starts throwing it between him and his much older sister.

One thing I have realized is that what I am most frightened of is being alone on new year’s eve. Even now, that thought terrifies me. I can’t stand going out, very crowded places. Can’t talk to people. And completely understand everyone who isn’t going out likely is celebrating it with their parents. While my family is dead. For the past three or so years my father has opted to go to some old “friends” of his alone, my mother has a man she wants to celebrate it with, my brother always tags along with some other people and my sister goes out. No student association to celebrate it with. So who am I to turn to?

The last year has been a major change for me. Still, I am not really any less alone than before. You could say I’ve learned to be somewhat happy with it. But the end year holidays are a harsh time for people don’t belong.

I have only one or two good memories. One is a picture. In my memory. I’m sitting at the McDonalds in Eindhoven, on the second floor all the way in the corner at the back. I’m, 15 or so. The girl who went there with me and who sits across the table stretches out and views the street from the window. I see the side of her face in the most beautiful lighting and it just looks that much more beautiful. I should’ve kissed her back then.

Regarding her, I can say she was truly the first one I really loved. I fell in love with her when I was 14 I guess. She sat behind me in class for a good part of a year. And I guess in some ways she was like a mother figure to me. (because my mother has not really been a mother figure for most of my life) I’ve loved her until then. Met her for the last time I some months ago and immediately fell in love with her again. Unfortunately I’m a social retard and destroyed almost every opportunity to really talk with her. Instead of against her or she against me.

I once told a guy to hang himself when his father had committed suicide out of the blue. Retard me even took a moment to think if that was so smart, but then for some reason decided to say it. I deserve to die for that. And due to that I have for a long time thought I’m completely fatalistic. As soon as I get something good going, something in me causes me to completely destroy it again.

Some day you will find a better place to stay. You’ll never need to feel this way again.