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The miracle of low self-esteem

You wonder why would anybody like me? Love me? Why would anybody have something to do with me? The true miracle is though, that you don’t see any value in yourself. You are an alien from a different planet whose gestures and words get misinterpreted all the time, sure, but does that change anything? So you are strange. Now what? It’s astonishing to reach the conclusion at this point that people don’t like you. Or care. If nature proves anything on a daily basis, it’s that the MO of the world is genuine disinterest. What makes you so special that you’re worth the hatred of all society? You have a face only a mother or a random person could love. Anybody. Everybody. You’re nothing special. That’s why you don’t need to have low self-esteem. Ironic isn’t it? You’re something special. Just like everybody else.

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Voluntary Captivity

And so I am punishing myself again. I am going into voluntary captivity again. A slave to your wishes. I anticipate your desires and make them my command. Your structure is my order. Humility and humiliation is my new life. I succumb to unspoken words and tremble at the thought that my empathy fails me. You are it. You are domination turned into love. You are neglect turned into comfort. You are the shadow that helps me in dark times. And I did that all by myself. Let me further rest my head on air for I am weary and it is the only thing that gives me back my strength and keeps me going on. I thank you for not noticing. I thank you for not caring. I thank you for being you. I thank you for being what I made you. Even though you don’t know.

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Cloned Genius

Whistling tunes that have been sung, saying things that everybody knows, having amazing ideas that are common knowledge - that’s you cloned genius! Working hard and tearing your soul apart, only to look back into the mirror of the world and see thousand faces exactly like you. A mockery of  individuality, a travesty of a pure thought. Yet you keep searching as if there’s something to be invented, as if there’s something to be found in a room where every place is inhabited by someone and by many ghosts of the past. A god with thousand identities, the hive mind reaches far and beyond. You think about an interesting insight while it thinks about telling a cruel joke. So the actual question is: Why do you strive? Why do you wanna be separated? Why is it shameful that you are not alone? Does a cloned body not provide any warmth? Are feelings less real only because they belong to a twin? And finally... what’s the reward?

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The sensitive murderer

There’s a murderer in town. He’s out for revenge and blood. His humanity guides him on the way to find his prey. His tormented soul, his empathy is his compass. And he’s here to stab you right in the heart. His last piece of emotion, his shell, his mask of a human being let’s him blend in. He has every right to hurt you because, you see, he was hurt as well. This pain gave him the insight into the fabric of the world. It is made of suffering. His mind is forming his pain into a blade and he will murder you with it. He feels what you are feeling or rather he used to but he’s numb and cold now. And his bitterness has turned into a philosophy. He invented the science of murder. Like so many have done before him and so many will in the future. He forms the rage, shapes it with logic until there’s only one reasonable way to go: destruction. He descends on his enemies and kills them with love, strangles them with compassion, lures them in with vulnerability. Though his sensitivity is only a shred of what it used to be. Just enough to make you think that he is on your side but it’s only a disguise looking to buy him the time to draw his knife as soon as you turn your back on him.