I don’t need anyone – I don’t need dependance. I don’t need a home – I don’t have only one family. I neglect the concept of need. Therefore I am resistant – stubborn- when it comes to desires. I get yours. Your urge of creating relations. To feel connected, to be part of this madness, not to feel insane, not to feel like it drives you crazy, crazy like I am alone, everyone is, I am wrong, I hate all of it, the acquisition and inquisition, the errors and effortless tries, the love which is a set up, the politics, staged and a shit show, sex and other lies. All of it. The planes bringing you to the beach. Your job providing you opportunities and the money, THE money, fuck right money, what a great thing to have and to sacrifice yourself for. Luxury. Of course you want a part of, a dime slice at least, just for fun, fun, you need it, you need some fun, what else for money is. And you are born into this malicious operation, you deserve it, my friend. You yes you who can read and understand the perspective – well you don’t. Your reward, the worlds pleasure. Take it all. Take take take. Imagine there is the greatest sale ever called life and you would be the only one left with bare hands. What a cruel disaster. All others would have something and you not one single thing, only yourself, your life, your materialized life, prized and stored on a dust bowing shelf.I don’t want to mean something to anyone. I believe we are not meant to be meaningful. Meaning is based on values and values create meanings and meaning in its repetition – o how good we are in that – meaninglessness. Potentially we would care more if we don’t mean something to others or everything to ourselves. Self absorbance. A monster men installed. And most of us feel pretty pretty with it. Being here and only once a lifetime wandering on this planet justifies you, your needs first. Imagine back in the days tribes organized based on a Facebook like their survival. What a social impact that would have made on evolution. Christ and the other idiots piss in their solidarity racks for a laugh hanging on the cross doing pull-ups. – How important you think important is? How important are you? I never felt so disconnected and free in my lifetime, because I am replaceable, we all are, accept it, move on.

Me living in an ideal my world and not my world being dictated by idealism…

… save cash again to sit in 2 years time in my own studio, where I create what I want, what I need because I need. Where I can be me, without people asking me who I want to be. Where I can create my own values, my own present with no future, because it doesn’t fucking matter. And I am not talking about services to be clear on that – or if you better got some more cash on you. I am tired of wasting my talent – yes I got and I admit – for people who don’t get what it takes to be where I am. I hate you greedy capitalists. Yes we all are, we all have the color of money on our hands, dirty as fuck. But you think on top of that you deserve more just because. Fuck off. I serve you with all my sovereign contempt. I never wanted to work for you. Never. I only did and do because I had to learn to play the game to be able to manipulate. Unfortunately I realized the dice was loaded from the beginning.

… I need time. The next part of the road has to be tough otherwise it will be the wrong road. I want to be stronger, better. For myself and for other people around me. For this I need to rescue my nasty commitment for work and transform into another addiction to set me free. At the same time I need to break with other addictions, basically my whole habit of addiction. Alcohol. Weed. Love and self denial. Self denial first of all. Stop sacrificing myself for people who don’t need me or you want me but I don’t need them. Especially when it comes to creating. 

… I need brain chow. A lot more. Not love. Not your illusions. Not your dreams and visions or your self-esteem. Not knowledge necessarily. Fuck off with your assumption, believes and attempts to poke through the big question of why we are here and behave like someone would care, except us, the person next to you to impress and depress me. Not interested. People who think visual and feel downright. The rest I will need you to stay in your own eclipse.

… I need the next years to cure myself, my heart. To cut me loose from everything which is you. And this doesn’t mean you don’t mean to me the world, because you are the world I know, but it is not what I need, a world. This world made me for half a lifetime sick. I only have memories of pain and deep despair. The rise and fall of my parents. My sister, my dear fellow in misery. My friends dragging me drunk and bleeding back home. Me dragging myself trough ever mud hole I can find to punish myself for being and not being different. Not saving the world. Not changing anything. Not being Superman. Not being pure. Not being good. Not being free from good and bad. – how much I still hate to be human. This never ending anger inside of me. Don’t you feel it?! Don’t you feel anything is wrong here, it started wrong and will cross the finishing line in a loud fulmination. We kill – I say intentionally not murder – every day far beyond a natural survival strategy. Though there is nothing than nature, even us acting permanently against doesn’t make us less part of all what is. We just can’t accept that all what is not only us. How I hate our arrogance. And we even invented the concept of it. 

… and I need much much more time for myself. Alone. Solo. Me and all of it at once.

… and I am feeling pity for my father. For this great chef who never had the knives to stand up and challenge his greatness, always trapped in money as the solution for existence. I am sorry you were born in the wrong part of the world. Imagine you were born in a poor country and the only way you would have think of is up because there is no down. You would have made yourself great. I know. Because you have one of the greatest and purest hearts I never touched. But I know it is there.

… mother, I still cry.

… I am not writing this because I am turning 40 tomorrow. I write this because if I don’t change I will not be here for my forty-one. 

… I can not take the responsibility of a family. I am not grown up, I don’t feel I have something to give or to look up to. 

… I feel like I have to leave for a while to do my duty, to serve myself, my privilege of being, and being able to be better.