A place for a


A letter from his daughter

Paul got a letter from his daughter. He hesitated to read it. He put it away for a long time until he brought up the courage to open it. It said:


Hi daddy,

I had this voice in my head all my life. A voice that was telling me that I am a miserable piece of shit. That I don’t deserve love, don’t deserve pleasure, don’t deserve a fulfilling sex life.

Once the voice appeared in my dreams. It was the devil. A horrifying black cloud of terror. In that dream, I tried to fight him. Was it a him? Or was it an it? I tried to fight it, but my limbs were frozen. I could not move, as much as I tried. It ridiculed me and said You are mine. I whimpered and kept repeating to myself, No, no, no, oh please, god, no! Reality was disintegrating.

I woke up shaken and out of my mind. I pushed it all away, it could not be. I forced myself to forget about it.

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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 4: Alternatives

For me personally, going on a rampage is not a real option at the moment. I just do not want to die. And I want to eventually fuck all these problems in the ass and then get some. But anyway, what are some alternatives to starting to run around killing people?

Your background and preferences may be completely different to mine. I do not know. Frankly, I have not considered it. Maybe you read my first article and think I am a loser who can tell you nothing. Well, I can understand that. No offense taken.

Anyway, here are some ideas for alternative ways to deal with the rage. If that is your motivation. Which I assume, because – as mentioned in the first part – this is not an article for psychopaths who do it for fun. Which I can intellectually understand, but it is not who I am. If that is who you are, my thoughts are meaningless to you.

Some of the following tips are based on my own experiences, others are based on hearsay and speculation.

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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 1: My story

I wrote quite a lot about stuff I am no expert in. I began my blog as a copycat of others. But that is okay, I am finding my voice. Today I want to write about something that I can really relate to. About a question that you can ask nobody because you would meet only shame and rejection.

Should you go on a rampage?

And yet it is a profound personal decision that many before you asked. But they could not ask, could they? So they had only themselves to talk to, only the confines of their own mind to reach a silent answer.

Society does not understand your rage and finds superficial answers that satisfy the symbolic mind: Video games, pornography. Ted Bundy even makes fun of that unsophisticated reasoning by using it as an explanation for his own behavior. Very funny to watch.

Of course, Ted Bundy was a psychopath – from my limited knowledge – and his words can mean little to you. A person who does not feel shame or guilt can hardly understand what you are going through.

On the other hand, if you are a psychopath, this article is not for you. I can only superficially relate to you then and thus offer no usable advice.

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Switch off empathy

Look at the breast! Look at the breast! No, I don’t give a fuck if you think it’s funny! Do you think I’m joking, you fucking idiot?

My Muay Thai trainer never fails to remind everybody to never look into your opponent’s eyes. His reason is simple: You don’t want to know who your enemy is, how his day went, whether he’s happy, what his name is. You want to hurt him.

When I started training, I didn’t understand it. Back then, I was angry at the world and everybody seemed to be my enemy, especially other men. I wanted to beat people, I wanted to be hurt and I went there full of anger.

A part of the reason for training martial arts was to be among masculine men and learn to be like them. I wanted to be part of the group and was convinced that the only way was to be the best – in my current physical condition, that’s as far from the truth as can be. Always angry, I loved my first sparring and craved more. I had enemies and I was fighting them. I did want to look in their eyes and frighten them.

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The man who watched his father die

Growing up without a father was … not really hard. I didn’t know any better. It was only when I dared to look back and see what could’ve been that I felt a deep regret. Yet being a victim can make you blind towards others’ struggle, friend or enemy. I want to share with you a story of a man I met on my journey to Peru and whom I respect and love despite the fact that I do not know him very well.

Sash Jorden is an actor from Hollywood and a classic straight American guy. When I asked him if he was interested in contributing, he was as kind as to share a very personal story about his father’s death in his early 20s.

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Intolerable pain will make you a tolerable person


I have lost my appetite. The reward of however tasty food does not justify the pain of opening my mouth. That’s okay. The pulsating and sometimes cutting sensation in my ear lets me sense my heart beats. They sound like distant waves on a beach; a pulsating hiss behind my teeth.

On a somewhat official scale from zero to 10, I define my pain as a 7 or 8. 7 is called “Very Intense”, while 8 is called “Utterly Horrible”. Fucking funny names, eh? They make me laugh. It’s a somewhat uncanny laugh, like that from a movie psychopath; my neighbors have been hearing that a lot lately since I got tired of crying.

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How to respond warmly with authenticity

I mentioned that I am a narcissist. That means that I am obsessed with the image other people have of me. When I say obsessed, I mean like with a drug. You can abstain from a drug for a long time and be happy; for me, that means to be alone or act in a way that will alienate people quickly. But if I am exposed to the drug, it’s hard to think clearly about it, especially if I haven’t had it in a long time.

For me, that is to get some form of admiration – or rather, being identified with a self-image I like; ironically, even being called an asshole can function that way.

How can I overcome that in order to be authentic and warmly answer an email?

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I am a covert narcissist

When you type “narcissist” into Google, you don’t find accounts of compassion towards people who live in hell. You find articles on how to expose, destroy and get away from these people. And that’s okay, I don’t want to whine. The stigma is hard for me to tolerate and if you can’t understand that, you probably aren’t a narcissist. Huh, lucky you. A place where the traits of narcissism are rewarded and appreciated is much more preferable, for instance the sphere of the arts.

The stigma is justified, though, since the traits of a narcissist really are hard to tolerate and even more because a narcissist doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him. I often crave to be in a girls embrace to fill a sense of emptiness, but that’s not a wish for intimacy; it’s anything but. Intimacy exposes, but the motivation of the narcissist is to cover up. In this example, the imagined reward of love is the knowledge that I am lovable, I am a man, and a superiority compared to everyone who is not.

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