The docs gave me meds and I wanted to be even number. Amphetamines, Antidepressents and Neuroleptics, finally the diva in me seemed to have died. I did the law and played the man, but in the end I stopped feeling my whole body. Years of extreme exhaustion made me collaps years later and still I ask: why so long? The docs said I was a healthy man, someting other men should aspire to be, but my mother raised me to be an object of her sexual desire. A slave I was, to serve every female predators needs until I couldnt take it anymore. The first time I felt freedom was when I read trans-literature (the anarchist and militant) kind and thats when I knew that I had to get out. I burned as many bridges as I could, left my old self and discovered creativity for the first time in over two decades. I could cry again, weep when the world got too much and it made me stronger. Still there was too much guilt in me and I chose to go back to giving to the wrong people. Those that not only bite off your arm, but eat your soul in the end. So the relapse began and I freaked, got pulled into armed struggle, fled and tried my luck with psychiatry. Big mistake. I was more than naive at first, still trusting every word hoping it would heal me from all my scars and make me human again. I didnt get that far, saw the suffering in the closed ward and dipped, twice until after the end of my hellish last relationship there was no other way to go. Six weeks looked up in the Depression ward and it was barely and improvement. Faux-Buddhism now called Positive-Psychology, shit your esotheric aunt has printed on her pillows as actual psychological advice. I couldnt do it anymore and was also going cold turkey from speed at the same time, but I pulled through. Somehow, but not without any programming. The broken mess, that I was at that point, was to start an education again, while moving in with a male predator as a flatmate. So I relapsed and to not give a shit about safe use was wonderful. I knew everything was going to crash and burn, but better sooner than later. The days went by, so fast I barely remember shit and I am glad. Fought for my right to keep my flat, since the predators dad was my landlord, but got fucked by the legal system as excpected. Got fired, took out all the loans I had and went into my subconscious through substances, felt it all, saw a lot and decided to flee to Athens. I made it there, but went cold turkey. Even though I stood my ground, staring down every riot-pig I saw, the pain started rushing outwards. Sleepless nights running kilometres through a strange, dirty, but beatiful city until I sat down and came to terms with it. Problem was that I hadnt booked a flight back and I was too scared of strangers to have a look out for any comrades, so I contacted my familiy and landed in the mess that I am just getting out of.

I wonder if I couldve made it in any of my attempts to escape Germany, or if that wasnt also just white privilege not willing to accrpt, that there aint no way out of suffering. But there is, there is so much freedom in this world, but it is subjectiv. For one in might be life long drug consumption, for others the warmth of one or more partner and so on and so forth. I still havent found that spot yet I guess. It mainly feels so strange to not be a servent anymore, to have free will. The many choices that are gone dont interest me, because they were planned through abuse and violence. I was to be molded and made straight. All I ever wanted was to be free of that, so there is a void paired with anxiety, happiness, but also deep pain for the suffering of myself and others. Nobody to talk to about all that shit, since they either dont understand or are still running from their past. I aint scared of running anymore, but I am keen on using my brain more often. It just feels weird. A lifetime on fast-forward, while nothing happened. I grew stronger, older and more mature, but still havent even seen a glimpse of what it means to be human.