Um, so I wrote this poem on April 28th. Written in 2005 between 9:45 p.m. and 10 p.m. 5 p.m. and nothing changed, or very very little, that's why it is somewhat bad. But it offers a great insight into my life and thinking:

An evening like any other

Music is playing in the background
I lie in bed,
sit,
should actually sleep,
but too many thoughts are buzzing in my head.

I want to write it down
she wants to sort it out,
but there are too many of them.
School, sports, appointments ... love
Everything is buzzing around in my head
so many problems
to which I don't know a solution.

I'm sad - and angry at the same time.
But - to whom?
My parents? Teacher? People I meet on the street?
No, I know exactly:
I am to blame for my suffering.
Wanna hurt my body
but I am afraid.
What should I do?

I can only list a few of my thoughts here
you should be able to absorb them,
in order to be able to organize them - later, when it is too late.What should I do?

Find new friends quickly on the internet,
but in normal life?
What should I do?

I'm in love
he knows it,
I do not want,
he does not want to.
Why was love invented?
Just to torment people?
Now it's happened the second time
I'm in love
want to be with him and also not,
want to touch him and don't want to,
don't want to love him - or do you?
It's so terrible to be in this predicament.
Half a year ago we were friends
now he's so much more to me
but - not me for him.
What should I do?

I've tried several times
but love cannot be suppressed
she torments me
I'm being teased
and yet doesn't want to love him at all.
My parents say,
I would be too young to love
but I ask myself:
Can you be too young for something like that?
If you can't control it
you can't be too young for that, can you?
Love is a torture
only there to torment peoplefor anything else, I don't know them.
I've shed so many tears because of love
all for free.
They just made the impression on me even bigger
that I don't belong here - not in this world.

I almost died once
was my own fault.
Once again I had eaten up something and got into trouble.
In the evening I sat in bed and choked myself.
My head got hot - but I enjoyed it.
Ha - yes, I'm crazy, whoever thinks that, I agree,
Yes everything,
what went wrong up to now was my own fault -
or love
this torture that eats my heart, mutilates my soul,
and moved my hand to write.
But it is still a torture.

Music is playing in the background
the CD is almost over,
I lie in bed,
sit,
should actually sleep,
yet I write down my thoughts.
In a moment I'll turn off the light
close the book
and try to sleep
but too many thoughts are buzzing in my head.An evening like any other.