Sunday already.

Another weekend that I have no idea where did it go...

Goth...What an absolute shitpile of a week. Not once did I get to finish work in time to go to that one shop that only opens from 2-6pm (and of course doen't open on weekends)
There was a LOT of pressure on me this week due to some bitch deadlines and I kinda woke up with a bad mood kalready...I didn't really want to talk if not necessary but my co-worker tried to do small talk all the time in the lab... He doesn't get the headpones hint. At some point I just pretended to not hear him and I kinda feel bad for doing that...
I'm just glad it's friday.. Finally time to shut the dors and dissociate...

oh... weekend at last!
There's nothing better than sitting on your 'balcony' (more like an escape staircase) with a hot cup of tea in your hand and enjoying the cold late fall air.
And today I'm lucky that the party mile where I live is suspiciously quiet at the moment.

After such an exhausting week, it just feels soooo good

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And just like that, the weekend is over.
Time to struggle at work and drink insane amounts of coffee to overcome anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. :D :D :D

Hellou!

My soul really needed this long weekend for myself...
I was mentally burning out in the shadow of a high functioning facade for 2 months. I needed a break from life and from functioning perfectly. A small vacation without any obligations or an agenda. Just me alone and my art. And the luxury to decide on on a whim, what I feel like doing. No places to be at certain times, no schedule, no peole to meet... Just time passing by at my own pace....
I know its odd, but spending time alone is actually the most relaxing for me. Going on vacations/traveling is just stressing me out.

Have you ever had that nagging sensation that you're out of place among the wrong people? Lately, I've struggled to find any opportunities at the place where I live. It feels like months have gone by with only empty promises from work, leaving me burnt out and unable to enjoy even the simplest pleasures.

I can't shake this profound loneliness I've experienced for weeks, and it's perplexing since I’m in a relationship. It's odd when you are being told that they are here for you and to try to respond to this as often as possible on the same level, even when your social battery is depleted, yet still feel so utterly isolated. The depths of my depression have made it hard to get out of bed for days, with tears flowing freely.

Am I misguided in my expectations of what a relationship should be? When I realize that a house is on fire, for example, and I hear some calls for help, I try to rescue this person from it if possible and don’t avoid it because it might be too “hot.” I believe in stepping into the flames to support those I love, to hold their hand as we navigate the chaos together. Yet, here I am, feeling like I’m trapped in my own burning house while my partner stands outside, unsure whether to come in or watch from a distance.

I’m left feeling so conflicted… I love my partner deeply, yet I also feel profoundly abandoned and overlooked. I want to believe that love can withstand these moments of despair, that we can face life’s struggles as a team. But the distance created by unspoken words and unmet expectations feels like an insurmountable wall between us.

I often wonder if I’m asking for too much—if my desire for connection is unreasonable in a world that often seems too chaotic to handle. Shouldn't a partner be a safe haven, a source of comfort during the storm? Or am I just searching for validation in all the wrong places?

The fear of losing that connection, of being vulnerable and showing my true self, holds me back. There are days I crave honesty, but what if that honesty exposes too much? What if it reveals the depths of my struggles, and in response, all I receive is pity instead of understanding?

I spent what felt like the whole day today in the park in my town, which also includes a small, partially abandoned cemetery.

This place makes me thoughtful because of its structure: on one side, children play innocently on a playground, while young couples stroll nearby, their hands intertwined. Yet, just beyond them lies a retirement home, where the building gazes longingly at the cemetery—a silent reflection of mortality.

In between, smaller, older, crumbling statues stand sentinel, guardians of forgotten stories, their weathered faces etched with the sorrows and joys of those who have come before. Complementing these fading relics, scaffolding is being erected for new architecture, a juxtaposition of the old and the new, of decay and renewal.

As I walk through this park, a question quickly arises: what does it truly mean to live? We are born, we grow, we learn, we love, and inevitably, we pass away. But do we fade into nothingness, or do we leave a trace behind in our borrowed time? Perhaps a whisper lingers in the hearts of those we touch, a thread woven into the very fabric of the universe, connecting moments that seem so fleeting.

Is it not a privilege to love and be loved, to create ripples in the fabric of time with our joy and our sorrow? In this park, where the clang of swing sets mingles with the soft rustle of leaves, I feel both connected and isolated—a thread in the grand tapestry of life and death, pulled taut yet ethereal.

Beneath the laughter and love lies an unspoken truth: we are all temporary. Yet, is it not the beauty of our transience that makes moments so precious, illuminated against the backdrop of eternity? The whispers of those who have come before dance in the air, and I wonder, perhaps they are not so far removed; they linger with us in our laughter, our tears, and in the very act of living.

I realize that while our bodies may return to dust, our spirits, woven into the lives and hearts of others, may transcend even death, echoing in the stories told under starlit nights and cradled within the whispers of time.

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WTF?!
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