No escape from your thoughts

No escape from your thoughts. They haunt you and taunt you and kick you while you’re down. Underthoughts are the worst, sneaky ones you don’t even know you have. They wait while you sleep to you wake with a raw gnawing pain in your chest before you remember why. Hahahaha! Take that you fucker!
I think too much, always have. Think about the thoughts, wonder where they come from. Then I think about thinking about the thoughts and what I did to deserve them. Nothing. Everything. I think too much.
It’s dangerous territory, I know. Maybe I’m going mad. Everybody’s mad in some form or other. It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself after a few knocks and I need to snap out of it.
It’s the last day of summer. For the first time I’ve brought my laptop to a café and I’m sitting writing in the sun. Beckett used to sit in cafés, I think. I’ve decided to write a book. Not right away but sometime, some day in the future when I’m good enough.
For I’m not good enough yet. One good thing I can say about that love story is that it made me want to be a better person. I signed up for a German grammar course at the VHS, faced up to certain weaknesses, sought improvement.
There’s no bitterness or anger, just a parasitic sadness immune to rational thought. Some things just cannot be explained and so it is with love. It’s hard to believe it can be destroyed so quickly, in one week or less. She wrote to me Monday to say she’d fallen in love with someone. Ja, I replied, I thought it was me. I wished her good luck and hoped that she’d find happiness and keep it. Then I spelled Tschüss wrong. Fuck it, nothing’s perfect, it fits.
I started reading the Murakami book she recommended to me yesterday. It’s great. I’ll always be grateful to her for that. She introduced me to good music too and shamed me into giving blood. I’ll get a donor card. They’ll throw away the liver but they can use the rest. It’s not all bad. It’s so easy to laugh, it’s so easy to hate, it takes guts to be gentle and kind…
Writing helps, words, forcing thoughts to work for their keep. Fuck you thoughts! Where are you running to now?
I’ll write, I’ll learn, I’ll love (the young fella saved me Monday), I’ll run. The marathon’s in just over a week. I screwed up my knee last Friday but I’m running anyway. I’m lucky I have two. Many of the people I’m running for don’t have any. Donations have dried up but hopefully they’ll pick up again when people see me running with a broken heart and banjaxed knee.
There’s no escape from your thoughts. You can only replace them with other thoughts. In the silence you don’t know. You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on.


  1. Hang in there, sir. Good luck with the marathon!

  2. Im sorry your going through this. I've been there. It sucks. You're a good person with a kind heart. You deserve happiness and it will come.

  3. Good for you! A book. Trying to snap 'out of it' is easier said than done. It's so hard, I know, trying to keep going when all the while those thoughts come back to haunt you, to slap you in the face, to punch you in the heart, to bring you right back down to place you would never willingly visit. And then you have to keep revisiting that dark place, time and time again. Running will help, too. Had to giggle at you spelling Tschüß incorrectly. All the same, still shitty, eh. What a shitter. Good Luck.

  4. I hope you feel better soon. I'm sure the horizon will brighten up with a little time. Love the blog and enjoy checking in on your life in Berlin. Best, David

  5. Is there any way to submit writings to you? Your words really get to me.


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