The fishbowl

Lately, I’m really terrible at writing. I just can’t. I’ve been out of internet for a little while at home. That doesn’t help much either. But when I sit and try to touch my keyboard, nothing comes. In my head I feel the soup of words spinning, but they stay there like they are in a fishbowl, you can stare at them and see them, but they can’t get out. That’s how it is.

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Fishbowl. I can’t even draw one, I know.

Life has been a bit empty somehow. I’m struggling with this emptiness, with this nothingness inside of me. Other people seem to experience this less – they don’t feel I’m empty, but for myself, I’m one big hollow fishbowl. You see right through it, because there is nothing. So there is nothing to understand.

I lost motivation at work (again, or maybe  I didn’t lose it-maybe it never went away). I just go to work and do what is necessary. I pay my bills. But it’s as hollow as it sounds.

My grandmother passed away. I can’t even say I feel sad about that. The past and history with all of that, created this superweird situation. No one really misses her, and that is superweird. Yet its superweird how things developed (or didn’t) through the years and all the things that happened created scars that never heal. It’s weird to talk bad about the dead, but at the same time, dead people can still influence. Good and bad. It’s so complicated that I don’t know how to feel about it, and trying to explain tires me so much it blocks every single word that wants to come out. Death is weird to me anyway. Sometimes you see it coming, but when it happens, it’s so , weird. Enough about that.

Lately I’m less comfortable in my studio. I live in a building with few other studios. Some neighbours are really noisy and a bit messy and that irritates me. And I miss an outside space. A seperate room. I can not even really welcome people, my house is small and it’s just (except the bathroom) one long space. I can’t hang things on the wall because the wall is so bad it falls off immediatly and when you bump it it immediatly has a scratch or a little hole. I don’t need a big house, but one seperate room would be so great. When you step into my house, you see everything- kitchen, my couch& bed in one (just two mattrasses that I fold every day).

I stopped going to Jiu Jitsu. I felt broken for a while, not able to go. Yet my motivation is nowhere to be found. I know it’s good for me, but I don’t progress, I am not so happy and funny as the others and I just don’t blend in. That is how I feel, and I still didn’t go. I haven’t practised for months now. And I don’t know what to do with it, but still being a member and paying doesn’t make sense, does it?

Love flew back to her home country. That means I’m home alone now. I’m happy she went to see her friends and family and that she is off.

Now I’m sitting here in this house, not sure what to do. It’s weekend, but I just sit, stare, wonder. I don’t act. There is no motivation in me to do anything. I don’t want to cook, eat, move, go anywhere, read, just nothing.

All I can be is the empty fishbowl.

 

The trap.

There is not really much to say about my life, nothing much happens. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe not.

This life just doesn’t make sense. I keep going to a job that makes me unhappy, and that provides just the necessary to live, but no future perspective.

What’s the point of going to work every day, coming home, being wrecked that the only things you manage is to cook, clean a bit and hang on the couch?

I look in the mirror. I see someone who is fat. I am not really fat fat, but fat enough to not be thin. Sometimes I see myself, and all I can think is, how could I be this way? Why can’t I manage to keep myself in a better condition? Why am I so fat? Look at yourself, look, there you see someone who does not have a good stamina. I look better when I’m more thin, my clothes fit nicer, etc. Yet why I keep failing to change my life?

I look around my house. It’s small, but has everything you need for a basic life.

I can’t be really positive about the future. I don’t really look forward to anything. I’m scared a bit, yeah, but I don’t let that be the reason not to do anything. Things just don’t make sense. I don’t feel a drive, a motivation, it’s just ‘doesn’t really matter, does it?”

My love is also a bit trapped. We can talk about it. That’s good. But it doesn’t change things.

Sometimes I dream of this life, in the mountains, away from this world, where speed and efficiency and money seem to rule. Where you need to be connected, all the time.

I just can’t – it drives me insane. It’s not me. What are we doing?

I really tried. Tried to be a part of this world – but I seem to fail. I’m useless, I can’t keep up with the pace and the things, I can’t do 100 times at the same time and work and buy a house and exercise and going out and doing all the things like groceries and fun things and enjoy and stuff. It’s too much, I just can’t. At my work, I don’t mean anything either. I’m just a number, and some part you can exchange without missing anything.

It just gets me from time to time.

And it’s just making me sad, like really sad sometimes, like now.

 

The trainaccident.

Like usual after work, I take the train home. Yesterday I was happy to be off a bit earlier since I didn’t feel so great, and I took the train home. Yet this trainride, which usually takes 20 minutes, took 2,5 hours almost.

I was in a train that hit a person. The person did not survive. I don’t know if it was suicide or an accident, but I know the railwaycrossing is a ‘closed’ one; with those bars. And they were down.

Suddenly the train started to brake – but against these things I guess you can’t stop in time. There was a hit, and a lot of other sounds. It was obvious we hit something; and
I saw things flying from under the train. Things like a black small wheel, a brown big thing which looked like some kind of pillow, lots of stones (from the railwaytrack), other iron bars and some more little parts (which were maybe parts of a human body- I’m not sure it went all so fast).

The train stopped. Moments of silence. The traindriver giving the message, with a trembled voice: we just hit a person. We’re going to see if we can give first aid.

But first aid with a hit like that, I guess the chance of survival isn’t much. All I could think of is that whoever was under the train, had no chance of survival. And that I later learned, was the truth.

After standing on the railway in the middle of nowhere for a long time, with a lot of firemen, police and other people who ‘clean it up’, we were escorted out of the train to a bus that came to pick us up. We had to walk along the track into the direction of the actual hit. I didn’t want to look- I didn’t want to see anything more than I already saw. I guess I was afraid to see things, I mean, it was still a real person, and his or her life just ended in one or two seconds, and I was a witness of that. I heard, I felt, and I know. That’s such a strange thing to know. Boom, a life away in a flash. Just gone, poof, just like that.

I feel sorry. Sorry for that person. Sorry for the relatives, friends, beloved ones. Sorry for the traindriver, who saw way more then I did. Sorry for the people who saw it.

It’s maybe cruel to say, but I did wonder before how it’s like when things like this happen. I never really wanted to found out, these are not the things you would like to witness.But now I know anyway. The way it goes, the sounds, the feelings. The sensations. I had cold chills on my back while walking to the bus.

I stayed home from work today, I called in sick. I just said I couldn’t work, that I was sick.

It’s true that I was sick yesterday evening and during the night, now I’m not really sick sick and I slept, the whole thing didn’t keep me from sleeping. I don’t seem to feel particularly bad or something. But I was just not capable of going to work this morning.

Now I feel guilty I stayed at home. I’m able to work – but, also knowing that I would have a difficult day and I might have come back sick today if I would have gone.
Now I took care of myself right before getting real sick; but it makes me feel guilty. And I know how that doesn’t make sense. I feel weak, like I’m a person with a weak immune system, with lower energy levels, who calls in sick too quickly. In this world, it doesn’t seem to be about wellbeing. Yet I don’t really get why I know I should not feel guilty, I still do.

I seem to always have to be able to operate. And a moment like the train accident just makes me think: is it really worth it? Is it so bad to have to stop for a moment?

Sometimes the world stops for someone, and yet it just continues like nothing happens around. I don’t get where my head goes, and maybe the story doesn’t make sense.

 

Living what life?

Imagine. But it’s a truth.

I have a day job.A changing amount of hours every week. Nothing steady, nothing fancy.   Permanent contracts out of the question . It’s not the question if you have to leave or not:  the question is when.

It’s not a special job: everyone could do it I guess, there is no special degree needed for it, though when they make selections, they kind of pretend it that way.

Despite that the colleagues are nice, I guess the job is not making me happy at all. I keep telling myself that it could be worse, and seriously, this is not the worst job I had. In fact it’s the best, as you speak in friendliness and payment. But that, is not everything.

And however I make enough to support myself, it will not, or never,  make me rich. It will not help me to buy a house or something. It will just help me to pay the bills, and lead a moderate life in terms of – yeah, in terms of what exactly?

Work became something I don’t look forward to anymore. It became dull, unrewarding, and the days become longer, though in minutes they didn’t expand at all. I feel like a robot, a part of a system that isn’t really a good one, but, that’s something you should’t care or question about; it just makes things more complicated for yourself.

there are a lot of indications that this isn’t the job that makes me happy.It gets harder in time. I get headaches, I’m tired, and I care less, I lost my motivation. I try to do things right, but it’s never right anyway and hard working doesn’t get you anywhere. It’s not even notices. Maybe I would really like to find a job in my field of interest, but I don’t really know what my field of interest is. Often people say that is bullshit, but I’m really not sure myself.

As well I always feel like I’m not qualified enough or there is too much asked in a profile which I’m not. Also this game of who’s the best candidate, and all this fancy stuff, isn’t my thing. Sometimes I wonder about going back to study, but it’s unsure how I could afford that or support myself. And if I could make it, with my mental struggles. I guess I have motivation issues. It’s not that I don’t want, I’m not sure exactly what it is. It just makes things complicated. I also wonder if the degree or certificate would help anyway- I don’t think so). It would be just lost money. But what am I working towards to? To keep working like this and supporting myself to rent a house and buy food and keep that going for 20 or 30 years?
I passed the point where all the questions and thoughts keep me from sleeping. It became normal part of my life. Where simply a year ago these things would keep me up , they became a part of me – they don’t keep me from sleeping, but just continue during my sleep.

I wish I could explain how I feel. But the truth is: I’m not sure myself.

All I know is that I struggle to find my words, to find my feelings, to find the change.

All I know is that what you are reading, are just words to you, but it’s blood of my soul.

And all the words that I can’t find, are frustrating me that I can’t get them out.

That I can’t find the step to change. That I can’t do things different.

that I don’t know what I feel. That I dont know what i want.

That I just can’t make things better for myself.

What am I living?

My fortune is freedom

No one yelling, no one trying to make the most profits without being honest,
No pushing and screaming, no mean words,
No rushing and the fight to always be the best and on top.
No rat race, no fighting about a place, or a right to exist,
No war just to have your own little space, warmth, food, and such.

I wish it wasn’t this way, but it seems to get just more and more,
So I run away sometimes, to a place where those things don’t want to be.

There is just silence, the stories of nature and the rain.
The sun and the moon and the stars
Animals, plants, easy and rough terrain.

There, I find peace in myself, and peace with the world.
It’s still not easy, but I won’t regret
You see, that is my world that is hidden from the rest,
The one that keeps me sane.

I just wish, that that was the world I would live in

Every single day.

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I forgot how it was

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Shifting sands, there I was, on the beach.
Standing alone, straight up in the wind.
The big endless sea, threatening these waves in my direction
But I won’t
step aside.

As the sun used to rise
And as the moon used to be around here
As the dark is becoming day
And the light dissapear

It’s the perfect place to be
I just forgot how
it feels.

 

Something I don’t like to talk about

As the title says, I’m going to write about something I don’t like to talk – or write – about.

I don’t know exactly why, but somehow this subject is a bit sensitive for me.

When I was born, I was born as a woman. I’m still a woman. I’m okay with being a woman. Maybe, or very likely, I’m not the stereotype or standard version, but that doesn’t make me something else. Fine so far.

And, just to be clear about how I feel: I don’t feel the need or desire to be a man or something else. I’m fine with the way things are. I don’t feel the need or desire to have a different body. Yes, I have a relationship with another woman, but I don’t see myself as a lesbian or homosexual. I just see mutual love, respect, understanding of the soul. I don’t see relationships as in physical desire, I don’t even particularly like sex, that’s another ‘issue’ but more about that later. I always try to understand how this works for others, because if you believe the media and some common ‘street’ talk, the first thing people do is look and they feel attraction by the physical, often. Not always, but this is what it seems to me , what is the most common way it happens. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Somehow I also notice that most people feel the need to classify man or woman, or how one should look like. I guess you could probably call me more like the androgyne type. I’m none of both and yet both. I have female things in my body and male things in my body – okay everyone has, one more than the other. It doesn’t really matter, and yet it does. This is so full of contrasts.

So. I have more a male body shape, broad shoulders, big and strong, nothing curvy, fluent or however you call those shapes. And (eeks) I have to pull out some hair from my chin and belly, dark black thick hairs. They always come back. My shoe size is too big to buy woman shoes and the shape of my body doesn’t fit in the clothes they make for women. Women’s jeans are halfway my backside so you see half of the underpants, and shirts are always too short that it looks like you wear a shirt bikinistyle. As well, in blouses, shirts, sweaters and so every, my shoulders never fit in. That’s why I often end up buying men’s clothes or unisex or sports gear. I don’t like high heals and I don’t like dresses, so I don’t feel the need to fit in them or buy them. Even if I wanted to – it would not be possible with my body shape.

But those things, can make you a target. Not that I ever really was, but I do notice it in slightly hidden things. Somehow people do not dare to say it to me, but I bet they think so much more. Or maybe talk behind my back – I guess I will never really know. I remember not long ago, when at work there was a meeting about the future at work, and we had to work in groups with people. You had to describe the people in your group based on a little story you told (a story about something that you carry with you). I talked about my pocketknife, that I carry it to cut fruits at work, but that it’s also important gear in outdoor world.I had it for everything but agressive meanings: for me it’s not a weapon at all. It could, but that’s not how I see it. All of the people described me with things as the eager to know or to learn, being prepared.  One guy, who I don’t know so well, described me as ‘boyish’. That’s all that came to his mind. I saw everyone looking at me from the corners of my eye. I didn’t really know what to say or how to react. All I did was look at him and say: if that is what you think about me, then that is what you think. And so the day went on. But I still felt uncomfortable and it made me think. Yes, I wear men’s clothes, I don’t paint my nails and don’t wear make-up and such, but because I’m more neutral, does that make me boyish?

I admit that I am very happy with internetshopping. I don’t like to go in a store and get clothes in the men’s department. It makes me feel ashamed. You get weird faces. Questions.

And still the answer is: No, I don’t want to be a man, I’m a woman. (Just because it has to have a name, but yeah, I prefer to just call myself a human being).

Why do we seperate men and women clothes? Can’t we just wear what fits good and what we like? Why do there have to be different devided sections in stores, or words that label something as ‘men’ or female’?

I never understood why there is this ‘difference’ in sexes. Like why it should matter if someone is a man or a woman, or whatever in between or out. I don’t really see the ‘difference’ between men and women. Everyone is a person to me. I see people in persons. Yeah, of course, I classify too – male/female/something else. But I don’t understand this load of the word, to classify, or to……I’m sorry, I can’t really express myself well here (maybe that’s my lack of English). I just hope you get what I mean to say here.

I don’t even understand why there is a seperate toilet for men and women. I mean come on, in the end what comes out is the same. Then there are these stories about that its dangerous to put them together, because of sexual harrassment and such. But is this really, really happening when you have unisex toilets? Bad people are in every section of the human race. Isn’t this something we try to keep up with media images and stuff like that? Somehow I can’t see or understand this, because I see us all of the same kind. So if you have a different opinion about it, please feel free to share – even if I don’t agree, I’m interested to hear yours about this.Isn’t it just something we tend to keep alive because we are afraid or whatever? I really don’t get it.

And with that other related stuff; sex. A lot of advertisements and things are so focussed on looking beautiful (as in sexy) or sex minded. If you have to believe media and advertisements and series, a lot of guys are out for sex. Are men really that sex-minded? Is it really that all they think about, and that is what drives their lives? Is that why they are ‘dangerous’ and we have to seperate men and women? This part is so difficult to understand for me because I don’t see or feel things this way.

So, back to something that is not the point, I am a human being.
I’m born as a woman, and somehow I always struggle with myself and my appearance. I’m not particularly looking good, female, or sexy, or something else. I’m just me, I guess. I don’t know how to describe myself.

I am probably difficult in relationships – I had very less. And I never cared much about the physical thing, about sex. I could easily live without it. I care more about love in a different way. It’s not that I’m cold, sometimes I like to hug, and cuddle. But I can’t see why sex is so important in a relationship, simply because I don’t feel it. This is a point that I’m afraid makes me maybe weird or what frustrates my partner. I’m in a relationship now , but somehow I feel like I miss something and I can’t give my love what she might need.I know sex is important for her. And that’s something I can rarely ‘give’. I don’t even know if I could call myself asexual. Because I had sex, so I’m not sure if that counts. I just try to understand the world around me in these things, but I can’t really get hold of it.

Maybe it should not matter, but yet, somehow it bothers me. And it bothers me that I can’t exactly express myself the way I want, but I hope you get the meaning of the post. I guess it goes from one thing to another, and it’s not really coherent, but it’s related for me.

With saying that, I appreciate you took the time to read all of this.