Oh you don’t want me, don’T want me. I will make you unhappy, make no mistake. And if you do want me, well I just feel sorry for you. I am sorry Alex, sorry Hiroki, sorry that you wanted me and that I … I just dont even care. Your love it is in vain. I was fooling us both, but you, well I really convinced you both. i knew though. I knew I wanted greg, knew I wanted gwen. Not you, I wanted them. And them? They don’t want me. I can’t blame them.

I dont know what to do when I dont have someone to like, haha also when I do. I act weird, I smile too much, I am not me. I dont like what i become, so desperate. But in some ways I am. I need to have hope, hope that I will meet someone I love. Cause ultimately that is what I want. A boyriend to love, to be with….god it is so important to me. But none of the men i like now will be that.

Not max, not work max anyway. he…oh i like him a lot. i really do, i want to kiss him, to touch him…want him so badly. but why would he want me? he would hook up with me, at least i am hot enough for most guys to want to do that, but more? no i am too crazy, too weird..too me. too proud, too ashamed, too embarrassed, too shameless…i need to work on myself more.

then i have paul, who keeps telling me he doesnt want anything serious, but he is more attached to me than he realizes. though he is 38, experienced enough to let me go quickly. greg broke me. i never hsould have let myself like him, start to love him…the haunting feeling of being in his bed with him, his beautiful eyes looking at me, such beautiful eyes. he was just curious, i was an experiment to him, while to me he was..my hope. my hope for a future. i let myself hope with him and it is the hope, the hope is what kills you. what is killing me.

I would have given so much to be in his arms again, I can’t believe I really thought that I would be one day. No, I never will be. Never will feel his touch, his arms around me, feel safe with him. Never again. Why did he choose her? What does she have that I don’? She is younger, purer, less complicated, more devoted..no not more devoted, but easier to be with, more comforable. Me`? What am I to him?At first I was a game, then I was a challenge, then I was…what was I to him? I dont understand him, but I still love him.

Max will never want me…like greg, he wants an easier girl, a proper lady, not me, who just hopes she doesnt fall to pieces like she is so so wont to do…

I moved to Berlin and I let go. Let myself rush into wine-filled nights in clubs, intoxicated to stumbling, excited by the aura, determined to love it. I threw away my earlier visions one by one for these nights, recovering from days, and expected myself to stay the same. But..I am not the same.

I lost something, some direction, some standards for myself. I, who spent weekends in the library, learned to spend the whole time drunk in clubs, kissing boys and running away then running back, unwilling to think about what it could do to me. What is has done to me.

I was a poet, a dreamer, a student. Now..I am still all of those things, but my energy, the best of my energy I spent dancing to electronic beats and expect it to somehow fullfil me. But it does not. I am not..has it begun? Have I begun to lose my drive?

Then again I only felt like my life began when I moved to Berlin, only ever felt alive here. Only ever felt happy here. Maybe there is no alternative and I am doing the best I can do.

In some ways I think I am doing my best, considering the anxiety and stress lying over me, my past trauma…but still, my desire to be accomplished has been…reduced. I tend to think this is worse rather than better. What am I without the will that drove me on and on to be the best? Exhausted? No, not at all. But…ahhh..misguided.

But what does it all mean?

Ahh the question, that question, the bane and beauty of my existence. What does it all mean?

It doesn’t mean, nothing means, meaning does not exist. It is a construct of the human pysche, ontologically speaking it is nothing.

It is so easy to use as an excuse though, oh none of this means anything, why bother with anything? This is too that, that is too this, and both are far too nothing. I don’T want to do that, to be a noer, to be pessimist…

There is only one thing for me to do – do the things that I can be proud of. And I do want to…

I am a heartbreaker and I know it, know it too well, sometimes I even delight in it, in the power it gives me over someone..I know I am awful, make no mistake. But that doesnt make it hurt less when someone I love turns their shoulder on me, not even wanting to look at me over their shoulder.

I am sure he has met someone else, hence his not replying, his evasiveness..he and I could never have worked. We were not right. But it still hurts.

I dreamed of us being together, holding hands, dancing, touching…I dreamed of us 100 times. I was devastated when he left, when I thought I lost him. Well, I did lose him. Maybe not then, but slowly, gradually, he is gone from my life.

Did I love him, did I really love him? I started to, I would have, I could have, as they say, it could have been. But it was never to be, never to be. How foolish was I to think it would ever be something?

I guess I am really hurt, he didnt have the courtesy to tell me…I guess from his perspective, what would he have said? What could he have told me? Same with Timo, what should I tell him – go away I dont want you?

I am truly a terrible person, greg was lucky to get away. Any smart man would realize what a mess I am and just stay away…

I feel dumb. I feel like I could never write a good enough thesis proposal. We all saw the failure that was my masters thesis. I am pretty sure they just gave me a passing grade to keep my from annoying them. How could I ever write a doctoral proposal good enough? I am too disorganized, too scattered, too…ugh too me sometimes.

Oh god and dont even get me started on Prof. S’s rejection. It took him what, ten minutes to tell me coldly, flat out no, from me, you will get nothing. It was cold, it was cruel. He was drawing the boundary that I..once tried to tear down. But really now, he hurt me so much. So much. It is like being stabbed, strangled. I thought he at least respected me as a student but no, not even that.

I meant so much nothing to him, while to me, he kept me alive. The man kept me alive, gave me hope, held me on nights when I was all alone and could not breathe. He was all I could hold onto. I almost died when I seperated from him and now…he dismisses me with a wave of the hand in annoyance, as though how dare you think I would write that for you now?

Then of course there is greg, not replying to me, rejecting me too. Basically, could it get any worse? Stress about moving, about my application, and TWO rejections in a week from men, one the man I was most in life with out of any man in my life, and the other the most recent man I loved.

The only bright spot right now is that I am very fit, thing enough where my chest bones are visible when I move my arms again..sadly that is all I have on which to cling.

Thank goodness I have time in the morning to work out as much as I want. Otherwise I might go off the edge. I am sitting at work now, but typing into a word doc so it looks like I am doing work. Why bother with that though when our company is going down? We all know it. They will just put me onto another project. But I dont want to stay here!

I want to study again, to study literature again, but I just feel like I am not capable of writing the thesis. I havent felt this stupid in…well in ages. It is like I dont know where to begin with what I am doing, dont know who to ask… I need help. I wish someone would help me with something.

I want to go to my boss and ask him again if he approves of me working less hours. I want it so badly but I hate the idea of disappointing him, of having him thought me more than he found me to be, and then having to face the reality of what I am. So I sit here and pretend to work while I type a blog. It means so much to me but I am so trivial to him. Here I am not doing what I love, what I want to do…I am just passing time.

It is so abashing that I cannot walk up to him and say what I want. Sometimes I will walk up to anyone and say anything, but sometimes, I just do not have the strength at all. I am so…so timid sometimes. Like don’t hurt me, see how sweet and gentle I am? But that gets you no where, others resent your timidness for they see it in themselves, and then they want to hurt you the way someone hurt them. Inside, most people will want to.

Me, I can usually cry. The tears just love to slip out of my eyes, to burn my cheeks, to give my despair some freedom instead of leaving it trapped in me. And I do trap my feelings within, I know I do.

My anxiety, I think it comes from me holding something in. I am still hiding from something that happened, something in me scares me and I don’t want to know it. Of course the time I took all those drugs and had a panic attack has something to do with it, but even before that I would sometimes suffer anxiety. Thank goodness I was only 21 then, I would have surely had a heart attack.

At home I felt so safe, so comforted, like I was surrounded by people who wanted to care and protect me. Here I have my friends, my job, and both are something, but what I am missing is something else. Greg gave me that when he was here. I still miss him so much. I keep thinking, only this and this much longer, but one should not live that way, now should they? I don’t want to live my life waiting for time to pass hoping, some guy first returns to Berlin and second wants to be with me when he does.

It is hard to let him go though, when I do not understand him. I am afraid he is…so delicate and so afraid himself that he holds back, withdraws, pulls back. He is dreadfully sensetive. So I end up putting myself out there, ignoring his immaturity, ignoring how improbable it is, and trying. Hahaha well I guess I don’t give up, now do I? But what if I should? Am I hanging on too long?

Problem is, to let him go I need another person to want. I am terribly weak and must have a man to love at all costs, he just has to be somewhat mysterious and I will spend hours imagining what he could be thinking. I will do all his thinking for him, all the work, I just need him to be there and be a certain way. Is that not kind of pathetic?

Some part of me really thinks it is, but does not know how to live any other way.

Austin and I were friends, quasi-friends, long-distance friends, for some time now, and we both wanted to hang out in person. I needed a break from my family, desperately needed a break, hence I went to see him at his uni. My mother kindly volunteered to drive me. She is not one of the people on my list of those who have annoyed me.

I arrived and we talked, he asked me to read his thesis. I always fear people will think I am dumb, an intellectual fraud if you will, so I was so afraid I would make a fool of myself. Not because I am a fool, but because I worry so much he will think I am that I cannot think straight. Sigh. I majored in philosophy like he does now, but recently I studied only literature so my thought process was not acclimated to that kind of interpretation recently.

It was besides, Nietzsche who really connected us in the first place. Anyway at first I could not make great comments, eh in the end I understood his thesis accurately but I don’t know the subject enough to make great comments…

At one point I looked up at him and said, “I feel like you are testing me.” He replied curtly, “I am.” I lowered my head and made my ashamed smile, the one that seems to charm people that I make involuntarily while aware of its effect, and read more and finally said what I thought. Then we talked about our pasts, he brought up vodka from downstairs.

Naturally I had been drinking wine, had some with me, but he did not know that. So we drank vodka together from a red cup, sipping it, while I sucked on cough drops. We both share traumatic pasts, I know the person who abused him but did not realize what was happeneing, while he knew the person who abused me but did not realize it was happening…I guess we bonded.

We talked about struggling to find the meaning of life, struggling to understand, why, why, why is this happening? What did i do wrong? We both found no answers, but found solisce in Nietzsche and his quote, “the thought of suicide is a powerful comfort, it gets one through many a sleepless night.” Then I suggested we dance.

He was nervous to dance around me at first, but I spend 20 hours a week dancing at parties so I was fine and told him, to relax him, I am not watching you, do whatever you want. Then he did relax. I dance at parties because I like to move, I scarcely notice other people.

Then he got into his bed, I had already declined an invitation, when I decided to move from out of the chair and sit on the end of it. So I did. Immediately he rose to get more vodka. Good decision I am certain. We talked and at some point he kissed me. He leaned back onto the bed and waved me to him. I said no, come back here. So he did, then he laid down again. So I moved over to him, but told him I did not move fast.

We kissed awhile, and I let his hands stray across my stomach after pulling my top up a bit. I don’t work so hard to keep it flat for it to go unnoticed of course ;p Then it moved up to my bra and did its best to get underneath. Of course my dress and bra were tight, so he settled for pulling the sides of my dress down to free my breasts, which were his main focus. Of course I did not mind. We kissed awhile, he kissed them awhile, quite a while, and then I said it was time for me to leave.

He did not walk me to the bus as he had to get ready for something, which took points away from him and made him seem lazy, but I did not mind and I left fairly drunk and fairly happy. Physically we are attracted to one another, intellectually we are, emotionally we have a great understanding of one another but…of course there is a but.  He of course lives in the US (perhaps that is why he proposed we get married three times), I live in Germany, he does not know where he is going in life while I crave security in a man, at least more than he has, I still love Greg…

My thing is still power, I need some kind of power in a man and as much as I like him and think he will have it one day, he does not now. Neither does Greg though and i love him…. then maybe I just don’t love him. In any case, I did love kissing him.

First it was Holly trying to spend the whole time I was with her watching TV. I overcame my anxiety traveling, was happy to be with her…but failed to really connect. I found she did not laugh enough and was always trying to escape into the tv. I like to live my own life, I only watch TV when I am so messed up from partying I NEED to forget I exist. Normally, I don’t want to.

Now Meghan…she laughs more but she harps on about everything. Everything is a problem, nothing is flippant, nothing can just be funny, it all has to be “not okay” or “a serious issue.” And what is worse, she cannot let anything go. I get upset with her about something and she says of course it comes from my issues, just as everything comes from someone ELSE’S issues, never from hers. I appreciate her trying to understand things, but when you are unable to see yourself, you really cannot help others by aggressively telling them what they SHOULD do and projecting your feelings onto them.

Maybe it is because my life in Germany is so different, so much more exciting, so much more fun. No one here has any fun, and slowly, I feel them sucking the hapiness out of me. I came here laughing at everything, myself, my life, my fun, now..no one here laughs.

This is why I will never come back to America to live here – my family has slowly but surely been sucking my happiness out of me ever since my return almost a week ago. I worked hard to cultivate it in Germany, goodness knows I already cannot wait to go back.

Also Greg and I were texting all day yesterday but today he barely writes me back. I should not have gotten my hopes up I guess..

We all sat in the classroom, we were discussing one of my all-time favourite novels, Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time, and I read every part we had to read for class at least twice through, so that I would be surprised by no questions. I was considered one of the best students in the class, in large part because of my devotion to it.

He stood in front of the class, pacing back and forth as usual, the colours of winter outside brightening the windows, but chilling us all under the sun’s cold, bright rays. He paced slowly, thoughtfully, choosing his words carefully, pausing to give effect when necessary. Playing the part of professor became him so naturally, so easily. He was a brilliant professor.

I was looking at him with adoration in my eyes, I could not have looked at him any other way. His back was turned though. Suddenly he stopped walking once he had reached the wall, right next to the bright window, and turned around. As he did, his eyes flashed up to mine, faster than shadows could dance.

My heart stopped in my chest and while my thoughts and breathe dissipated.

His eyes did not look at me, they bore into me. Everything in my head went white as I stared into his light blue eyes, which were wide open. Everything was white and I saw nothing. But I felt, I felt him inside of me. Not in my body, in my mind. I could hide nothing from him, I was naked to him, I was completely vulnerable. Essentially, my prof. looked into my eyes and I saw a flash of light.

And then I had a vision. Between him and I, there was a cord, a rope, going from my, private place, to his, where he stood at the front of the room. We were bound together, tied together. Suddenly the vision was gone and it was all black. For a moment it was all black.

Then my eyes returned to normal again and he was still standing across the room, still looking into my eyes, but he had walked closer. In his eyes, I saw alarm. Something had happened. I looked away, and felt my heart pounding and my hands shaking.

“What did my teacher just do to me?” I asked myself. I began writing it on my paper, to distract myself from my fear – that I would faint. I told myself hold on, for I feared I would lose my grip, would faint…so I wrote it over and over to distract myself from my shaking.

Then the next thing I knew he was walking behind our desks, he made a loop to the back to hand back papers, and he was walking up to my desk from behind. To see what I was writing? I thought it was possible, but then of course I would have wanted him to care enough to do that, so I cannot be sure.

I was elated, terrified, barely holding on. He then stood again in the front and although I sat in the second row, close to him with no one in front of me, I dared not raise my eyes. Did not trust myself.

Then, he asked a question. Usually he would ask something then call out the name of the person supposed to answer it.I heard my name. No! I thought. No! Please not now! I had not heard the question, but the words were in my head, so I repeated them back to him s-l-o-w-l-y, ‘What was Pechorin thinking when he made the remark…’ He repeated the question and saw me at a loss for words.

I could barely grasp anything he was saying, my mind was unable to think. He then did something that seemed to me terribly kind, he began speaking about one aspect of it for about 3 seconds to give me time to collect my thoughts. I did, albeit pitifully. I was incapable of concentrating, so I did my best but…he kept digging though. I was praying for him to stop, but he just kept asking more questions about my answers, before relenting.

Why did he do that? He is a smart man, of course he saw on my face something had happened whether he knew what or why. He must have panicked, so he brought me into engagement, distracting me, normalizing me but…I was gone.

When class ended I practically ran outside. The rest of class I had not dared to raise my eyes to him again, I was struggling to keep calm, trying to understand, still asking myself, “what did my teacher just do to me?”

Of course I have no answer. I don’t think he meant to do anything, I think that the power of his gaze, and he has a gaze that looks through you, combined with my agitated state of longing for him, produced some kind of weird effect on me, leading me to have this..vision I had. I was afraid to look into his eyes the next three classes, terrified it would happen again.

But it was after this that I believed myself really in love with him, as though he had bore through me, touched something in me, without intending to, and tied me to him. This was 3.5 years ago and I am certainly no longer in love with him, but what I felt for him..I will never never forget that.