Shortly before my thirty-ninth birthday, I was overcome by such a paradoxical, unfounded fear, that I wish, to go crazy. I didn't mean to be moronic, But if I was mad enough, I might be able to, meinen Körper nicht mehr zu spüren. Mein Körper war mit meinem Gehirn über eine Schnittsstelle, called awareness, connected, the worst for me all the time, the most alarming processes. The fear was indistinguishable from a physical reflex, but I was aware of it, which is why I was able to increase it mentally many times over. I wanted to run out of my body, because physically I was definitely not strong enough for such an excess. However, leaking was not an option, because I've always feared death more than life.
Eight weeks later after this state was automated, a violent rumble at the door shook me to the core. The lust overcame me immediately, Shoot my consciousness away. I was in someone else's bed, in a strange place, but I was still trapped in my body. The room temperature was about twelve degrees, which is why I put the collar on my old sheepskin coat (who still belonged to Wim) hit high and me in addition like a sausage in the much too short, had wrapped a strange smelling blanket. I saw through a tiny air gap in my layers of warmth, how nurse Hackl stormed across the room and with a loud "Tagwacht!“In front of my neighbor's bed, the Dübendorfer, put up. In that moment, in which the Dübendorfer's Hackl tore the ceiling off his body, I jumped up, scurried into the men's bathroom and tried to throw up. But as hard as I tried, to get something out of my body; nothing came. This nausea strangled me for weeks. She has always been a diligent companion in my life, doch nun reichten bereits Gefühle und blosse Gedanken, to induce a choke. My body seemed to be in such controlled tension, that I was shaking all the time, while at the same time I had to be very careful, I didn't break down from weakness. This combination of a maximum of nervous excitement with maximum physical weakness, actually has it all. I definitely felt like a sheet, which is constantly torn from two sides. That I am physically in life (and therefore also psychologically) couldn't take anything anymore, was strange by the way. Actually, almost nothing had happened in my life for a long time! My last big event was the purchase of a large bed for my thirty-fifth and an oak desk, four weeks after moving to the two-room apartment on Hildanusstrasse.
After I had sucked in one last deep breath from the toilet bowl stained brown by the urine stone, I heaved myself up against the military green toilet walls and crept back into bed. I hastily pulled the wool tights up to my armpits, Wrapped me in Wim's sheepskin again and slipped my head under the pillow, trembling to one side. Although I never slept without earplugs, The noises in the department constantly punched tiny stitches in my skin, just like that, as if my pores were spread all over my body like thousands of tiny ears. Across from me in our six-bed room, Scholp lay in a comatose waking state for twenty-four hours. Her snoring and grunting was complemented by the squeaking and babbling of the Merola, who in principle only stopped her lively sleep noises for three meals a day. The Merola usually used the metal head rail of her bed to hold her head, not infrequently striking her head against it in repeated blows. Next to the Merola lay, too extreme at the window, in embryo position at the bottom of her bed, immersed in the musical refrains of your mobile phone player, the young Elmer. The refrains were probably the result of something, which should originally have served as an alarm clock, but sometimes a function just doesn't serve its purpose. The Elmer never showed up for meals. But maybe more of that later.