When I thought they took BEGGIN' IS HELL from my private collection

Sometimes certain things in my studio disappear and never come back. Someone once told me that it was a good sign if such things happen; and I never knew for whom. Lately such events appear to be more frequent. I even thought someone took "Beggin' is Hell", but a few days later found it in a small box where I might have put it myself. However, certain things that may have value only for me sometimes do mysteriously disappear in my always locked studio.

When such events puzzle my mind, I'm usually angry about what is going on around me since such events always make me feel helpless and unwillingly controlled by anonymous, undefined others. But today I'm actually good if certain goods I created are simply fall into good hands--that don't have to be mine...

And not only things: I lately googled all my short-time ex-girlfriends and figured they all found beautiful lovers they probably want to spend the rest of their lives with; and that made me happier than I could imagine before googling them. Nevertheless, no one can expect me not to be angry when people take things from me as if that was something I had to accept in life since it always only means that what happens to my works is hardly ever self-determined. It hurts even more when I come to realize that I've lost far too many of my friends the same way; and today I mourn for the time I haven't spent with friends and loved ones and instead suffered loneliness for at least a decade--no exaggeration.

 

When it comes to my creations I actually can be good with a few losses cuz in the end it's just cheap arts stuff no one would have to give a fuck about. When it comes to hand-crafted jewelry you'd have to be happy when they take your stuff instead of someone else's shit. But I miss my old friends and up to this day I miss the fostering power of true love that once used to lend me wings, and I don't get back the time I could have spent with them. That is what I need to utter since the virtues and values that are important to me appear meaningless to almost everyone else. I sometimes really hate people. For a reason.

 

I momentarily feel change happen, but I'm not where I need to be yet; and for now it's just the yearning, the hope and the dream theater instead of the reality that would make life bearable. My thoughts are still suicidal each day. Most of the time trusting in others doesn't seem to be an option and it shouldn't be unless what I'm after happens in real life soon enough.

Michael