Its strange. My thoughts, my emotions, my feelings. They are a construct, I don’t even know,

The music I love listening to, into the books I enjoy sinking into, the poems i adore to fill with words and sentences are so versatile that they are all contradictory in themselves,

They are neither special, unique or profound. They are simply a manifestation of what I feel inside, how I think things, how I perceive my emotions.

They should not be praised or appreciated, otherwise you allow them infinity, you allow them to remain eternal,

Curiosity spreads through me. It makes things accessible, but above all understandable. It puts you in a position to see things from a different perspective,

I believe that when you are severely depressed and have a borderline personality disorder, perspective is the most important tool you have. It allows you to perceive the shape, every angle, every detail, to recognize how it differs from all the other shapes, details, angles,

So what is curiosity for me? It is the curiosity to be curious. You can't be curious if curiosity is unknown to you.

My head is like jungle,
rooted with feelings and emotions,
this rooted jungle of thoughts slows me down,
blocks my way to the beautiful thoughts and feelings,
where can i find the beauty for things in this chaos,
my compass is faulty, a compass without a signpost,
will I ever find a way out of this labyrinth,
Where is the flowering meadow in all of this,
When can I enter a new orbit,
An orbit filled with positives,
When will the sun shine again in my universe,
When will it all end.

Between euphoria and pain,


Somewhere between joy and helplessness,


Deciding between staying here and leaving,


thoughts between melancholy and inner peace,


Between being overwhelmed and dissociating,


Between a carousel of thoughts and inner emptiness,


Between ribs and supercut,


Being in between again and again...

The noises of coffee cups and sips,

The sound of talking and gestures,

the body impressions and emotions of the people are drawing into the room,

The smell of perfumes climbing up the nose,

The smell of fresh coffee fulfilling the room,

They both interacting as a duet,

People inhaling the letters and words of the books they reading,

They are capturing the songs they listen to,

People letting their ideas flow into their laptops,

This place is special and for me the peak of being a human,

The variety is the reason why we are human beings,

Everyone defines in their own way why they are human beings.

Daydreaming and Dissociating

Dissociation is a way of transcending one's own boundaries,

A feeling of weightlessness, of drifting in the viscosity of thoughts,

Daydreaming as a kind of state without space and time,

Lost in a Penrose triangle of emotions or feelings,

Nothing endures there, at the same time everything is there,

Like a library where the books only have empty pages,

A concert without music, without sounds, without lutes,

A meadow where no flowers grow or where flowers will never bloom,

A journey without a destination,

The body and mind reorganise, they change and adapt,

In essence, dissociating is a kind of daydreaming, only much less pleasant,

Daydreaming and dissociating fight for supremacy in me every day.