I used to voluntarily meet a more or less suicidal guy in order to cheer him up. Our meetings were arranged via a programme for psychiatric patients. We met regularly for about 3 years. At one point he said I had saved his life. We have kept in touch over the years. He’s doing better than back then, though still struggling. I can be more open about my own ‘burdens’.

Last week he wrote me: ‘Apart from your wife and your son there is no magic in your life.’

People I grew up with got to be very serious. So serious I would argue they are not really alive anymore. They used to have dreams. They don’t anymore. Where to spend next year’s two week holiday is not a dream.

Most people bore the hell out of me these days. Things used to be different. More vibrant. Less predictable. More fun. More laughing. More passion to be shared. Different worries. There was so much aliveness, so much hope, so much yearning and so many plans that I craved alcohol like mad cause it was the only thing to stabilize myself in that sea of dopamine and adrenaline.

Some time in 2007 or 2008 I still thought: hmm, what strange times to be alive. Sure, there are some nutcases out there, but all problems have been solved or are on the brink of being solved! This was when the mainstream media was still my go to source to stay up to date. My worries were about: how do I become famous? How do I get to have (even) better sex? And how do I make sure I never have to do anything I don’t feel like doing?

A thorn in my eye was the horrible situation of the Palestinians. I travelled there in 2008. The same year as the financial crisis. Then there was a three year stint working for a newspaper that turned out to be run by hardcore stalinists (yes, really). They were humorless messed up hypocrites, but at the same time the problems they reported on were also undeniably real! Wait a minute here! Things are a lot more fucked up than I realized!

Then Obama and other charismatisc phonies got unmasked as money-grubbing conservatives. On a personal level I had to conclude that almost all my friendships had been fake. I was just being used. When I stopped being fun to hang out with they moved on. As if I had never been there for them. The whole bubble burst.

Am still caught in that wave. I see things worsening. Even educated people are un-informed enough to think Biden-Harris is amazing news. Daily cringe moments assured.

All these people tend to live only for the next fleeting hedonistic kick.

The only person who makes a serious attempt to know me thinks humans have been fucked up by aliens coming to earth and inter-breeding with us.

His interests are a bit, ehm, out there.

So if that is the only person really trying to know me, then I guess I am…

an alien.