The sun will set for you.

I’m sitting in front of that computer, scanning construcion plans for digitalizing my hometown. It’s a very boring work. Now after a week and some days at work, I can’t imagine to do that for three months. There must be some action.

And unfortunately I’ve my working place on the 2nd floor, and the sun, which shines today since 7 am, heats my office place. It’s muggy in here, and I’m happy, when I’ve to do a 5-minutes-job outside. Today, I’ll shut down my PC at work now. I’m happy, that more and more people find the way back to my blog. I’ll do my best to write something interesting. But, before I forget, I’ve to go.

No spare-time at all.

I’ve nearly forgotten to write here today. And that, although I’ve said, that I want to publish something every day. It’s hard, because of my job during the holidays, I’ve very few spare time. And because of the Eurpean Soccer Championship, about which I’m writing in my main blog every day, it’s hard to find something interesting to write here.

Now, listening to the Dashboard Confessional, I want to lie at the sea. Somewhere over the rainbow. On the other end of the world. But I’ve to lie here. In my bed, only darkness around me. Maybe I find something interesting to write about tomorrow. But I must admit, that every Tuesday and Thursday I come home at half past 6 pm after a long working day.

Some Kind of Darkness.

“You never told me something about that.”, I scream. You show me your bored face. “Why should I’ve told you something about it. It’s not your thing.”, you answer, while you ty not to look into my eyes. I’m scared. I’m fucking scared.

The darkness around us makes a scarifying ambience. The fog covers that area with the touch of a Silent Hill-game. I’m looking for some zombies, but there is no one. Just those two people, who don’t want to speak. The water crashes down the waterfall and your face seems to change every time I try to look into it.

It’s like the picture of Dorian Gray. Your face, slowly, shows every destruction, every bad thing, which has happened in your life. You aren’t that smart girl, I thought to know. You would have been scared, if you looked in a mirror. But you only stare at the floor. That dusty darkness. Your breath. Only the kiss of a stone on my heart. It hurts.

‘You should hold me’, I hear you. But you don’t say a word. Maybe, it was just one of your thoughts. But I can’t hold you, I’m afraid of touching you. I’m afraid of sitting next to you. You’ve changed. Even your smile seems dreadfuller than before.

It’s the last day of May. The sun has brightened the day but now. Everything has changed. No helpful word, no more laughter. I’m not really sure, if I want to see you again. I get up, look at you the last time, and then I go away.

Where should I go? Where should I leave my footsteps on. It’s a vicious circle. A catch-22. Every place I go, I hear your breathing and everytime I look at the stars, I remember that one day. When we lied on the street, watching the Great Wagon. I need to crash all of your things you’ve left. You don’t even talk to me, when you see me the next time. I don’t want to speak to you, anyway. But I’m afraid of our next meeting. Which will take place. I’m not quite sure whether I will shout at you all that damn things, you’ve done to me.

You’ve always told me, that I should tell you something about my feelings. I wasn’t able to. I didn’t want to tell you something, because you were the reason for most of my problems. Telling you something about my problems is like telling George W. Bush something about the Iraq war, isn’t it?

Weeks or months ago, I thought, we met too early. You were to young, to have a full-time relationship. But now, I know, that you’re just someone. Oh, damn. I don’t want to write it here. I hope, I’ll never see again. But I’m fucking quite sure, that we won’t.

Yeah, that’s nearly my very first English text here. It’s something that came to my mind, while sitting outside and listening to nice music. The darkness is real and the thoughts are fact. That shouldn’t be the problem. Isn’t it normal to be angry about someone, which you really like, and who is unwilling to put some energy into a friendship. I think, thats normal. But I’m looking for my very first e-mail for DSDS. By the way.

Reading. Laughing.

Some weeks ago, I bought a book. It’s in English and I must admit, that I really love it. It keeps me laughing for many pages. And therefore I want to introduce you in the world of André Schneider.

André Schneider is a German-born actor, musician, comedian, model and writer. I get in contact with him, because I love his German blog [Link 1], and it seems that he loves my German blog [Link 2] too. And so I tried to get all his books and films. “Deed Poll” is a great and shocking movie, with that wonderful André as Nathaniel. And then, I bought his two books “Die Sprache der Scherben” [like: The language of the sherds] and “Life Is A Sexually Transmitted Disease”. The first book is a short story (nearly 50 pages) about sexual abuse and suicidal wishes. It’s breathtaking. But LIASTD is totally different. This book is written in English. And it’s a funny and crazy book. With short stories and poems, and it has more than 200 pages. André writes such funny story e.g. about the history as a Vegas showgirl or something like that.

I read many pages on my way home in the train and I had to laugh so many times. It’s wonderful. To forget the world around you and follow André through all the metropolises. And because I really like his words, I would like make some ad.

So, buy it!

But hey, if you’re interested, here’s the link for Amazon.

Mirror.

The lake mirrors the trees. It’s dark, here at that place.

That lonely small lake. A place for many of my memories. Here, we, you and me, we spent so many wonderful days and nights. Here, we startet our relationship again, after that end, nobody really had wanted. Yesterday I sat there at that footbridge. The darkness walked around in a soften, silent move. I saw the sun went down. I saw the ducks swam away.

The mirror became darker and darker and everything, that’s mirrored at that lake, is something like my own memories. The memories become darker and darker. Since days it’s harder than ever to think about you. You made my live complete and you smashed all my hopes and dreams. The mirror distorted all my memories.

I sat there at that footbridge, and I waited. Waited for you. You only live metres away from that place. But I didn’t try to call you, I didn’t ring the bell. I wanted that place to be alone. Alone with my memories, with that darkness. Alone with me and the ghost of you. You were wonderful. In that mirror.

If that mirror could talk. What would it say. Wouldn’t it be nice, to hear all the stories of ourselves? Wouldn’t it be nice, if we spent some time here together. Wouldn’t it be nice, if we tried to be friends? But that mirror couldn’t talk. And down by the lake, I waited. Waited for something new.