On my way back from the office today I was walking alone for the first time this week. The difference compared to when I was walking around with my male colleague was quite... interesting. Beyond the extensive looks I got from a few women, I had men staring at me intensively. Two even made pretty lewd remarks in German, basically amounting to that they found what they saw to be quite interesting.
I can't say it made me feel flattered or special. More like weirded out and disgusted. The clothes I am wearing today are for comfort, not for looks: skin-tight jeans and black top with the top part lace because it's awesome in summer time, accompanied by the slightly heeled sandals I bought recently. The way people responded to me I felt more like I was in some kind of freak show. Maybe that's what those two guys were referring to, though. I don't know. I don't think I'm attractive. Not that I care about such matters.
Inside this body lives a mind which wants to live freely and feel at ease. Something went wrong, though, as instead it feels trapped and hunted. There's only the constant awareness that I as a person am in no way relevant. Nobody truly cares about whether I feel happy or at ease. Maybe it's just because they do not understand and feel it. I do keep up this facade of a successful and relatively care-free person, but that's more because the alternative is to be a complete emotional wreck. At times this does come to the surface, though.
Right now I feel just incredibly sad. I won't end up living in Germany, but end up homeless if I don't commit suicide first. That's how my story is supposed to go. There is no such thing as a happy ending in reality. Those who are happy stay happy, those whose lives were ruined by others will toil among the ruins until they die or end their own existence. I was never meant to be happy. I wasn't happy as a child. I was miserable as a teenager. After that everything turned into an absolute hell.
I'm a mere cog in the ruthless machine of society. Easily ignored and forgotten. Easily replaced. Ergo no reason to worry about any discomfort I may experience while I strive to be a useful addition to society.
Part of me wishes reality was just that black and white. The few touches of kindness make life so much harder for me. When I get back to the Netherlands in two weeks time I'll have this gift waiting for me from a friend. It's a sweater with angel wings on the back. He bought it for me after I mentioned that I thought it was really cute. As I type this tears are streaming freely over my face. It's both very pleasant to realize that I'm not a total reject and that at least some people care about me, but at the same time it's the most horrible thing in the world.
How can I end my existence if I can not say farewell to life without some regrets left? Part of me longs for the feeling of complete peace when I took those pills a few years ago which should have ended my life. I fear I won't ever get it back.