Well then...

Too bad when I write in english. It means one thing: a boring confession, maybe a lament or a complain against the unfairness of life, of humanity, of the Universe, God and everything else. But somehow there is something I need, at least for today, at least for tonight. Because at this moment, there is no human being around me, there is no one I can rely on. And even if someone was here, I don't know I would be able to speak. Speaking is a difficult task. Speaking with the truth, the truth inside, the truth of my being. And what is that truth. I can't tell. It's even hard to write it. But I can resume it in some words: sadness, weariness, anger, fear. Rejection can be felt even through the internet and yet still hurts. Yet one find oneself worthless. And I fear that. People speaks to me and ask me "how are you". I don't want to say...I don't feel good. I don't want to bother. But I also need it. People annoy me...people hurt me...but yet I yearn human contact. What a paradox