April 1st, 2015
“Yep, I’m fucking crazy. That’s all there is to it.
Why fear losing my sanity if there was never any chance of really having it? I was always a crazy person, I will always be a crazy person, and that’s just it. I cannot reach for something that once was, because it has never been.”
It’s an inescapable fact of living in Berlin.
One or two days a month, you feel completely crazy.
As if all of the grief and fear that faces Germany just landed on your shoulders.
And sits there, for a day or two, or sometimes three, while you desperately do whatever it is that you do to cope.
“Don’t fear making the wrong decisions, you’re fucking crazy, it doesn’t matter, the pressure is off. There’s no point in doubting anything, doubt implies that there is some kind of other you, inside, that has the capability of seeing things from all angles, that has the ability to transcend your programming not only as a human, but as this specific human. Fuck it, I’m completely insane, I have no bearings on anything, I’m a spinning tornado of overpowered marijuana-fed brains filled with more self-importance and charm than I know what to do with. I’m fucked-up, tangled, at the mercy of whatever and whoever comes my way. I’m already a fucking disaster, so what is there to fear?”
We were overdue.
The last three weird-Berlin days hit with a vengeance.
The weather has been psychotic.
The storm was so bad it even had a name, Storm Niklas.
Not quite a hurricane, but at least something deemed strong enough to need a moniker.
Winds, day and night, so strong they rattled INSIDE my flat. Rain, snow, hail, freezing rain, black clouds, bitter wet cold, not to mention brief periods of warmth, sunshine, spring, all in a demented wrestling match for the last three whole days and nights.
“Do I not have the right to exist?
Am I not worth getting to know?
Is my way less valid than anyone else’s?”
Broken branches everywhere.
Travel in chaos.
Dead, and dismembered (!!) pigeon corpses littering the sidewalks.