There is ass-kissing and there is ass-kissing. Not all of it is the same, the one, most obvious and hated kind is when you try making people to what you want by not being genuinely nice and polite. I condemn that one. The urban dictionary defines it with a quite poignant example:

“If a boss ordered everyone to come to work in a pink tutu and bunny slippers and someone started praising the order as if it were the greatest thing since sliced bread, that would be ass kissing.”

The other kind of so-called ass-kissing is often wrongly described as such. It is my opinion that genuinely nice people get along easily with others, no matter if it is people you can get something from or not. Inevitably, people will notice at some point that you are nice and they will also want to give some of that back to you. Why would you condemn somebody, who benefits from that? Would you condemn a person for being randomly and generally nice at work, school, uni, private life or any other environment. I would not. Others, as a matter of fact, many do. They speak of these people as ruthless ass-kissers whereas in reality they are only envious.
Thinking of some who are wrongly accused of being ass-kissers, we can ask ourselves the question, why is there this second type of ass-kissers, who does not do it for a particular reason. Is this person simply nuts, stupid or irrational? Moreover, why does not everyone act that way just for friendliness’s sake?

Being actively nice to others requires you to be happy. Getting something back eventually for being nice is a logical consequence. People are nice to others for many reasons, I suppose that the following are some:

1. They value other people and want to be valued likewise
2. They enjoy human contact more rather than loneliness
3. They are genuinely interested in others and also express this openly

Analysing the mentioned reasons a friend, colleague or stranger is likely to develop a sympathy, rather than without conversation or openness. Genuinety of those creates a situation of comfort which evens the way for a less superficial relationship. The same phenomenon we can observe when with a not to well-acquainted friend a special moment is shared or something special is being discussed. Something that you would not tell anybody just as if it was the weather forecast. If you tell this person you actually value him/her a lot for his loyality and honesty. If the other person is surprised because he/she would have never expected that because you just don’t speak about this usually, then this phenomenon just happened. And what you feel afterwards is a somewhat deeper relationship that connects you more than it did before. Comfort. Intimacy. However, maybe I’m wrong but maybe not.

People with the ability to be truly interested in others and who are nice, simply enjoy speaking with people, those have definitely freed themselves from the chains of the imaginary and yet strange pressure of today’s society. Today, as soon as you are nice to a person of whom you could benefit in some way from you will be condemn as a ass-kissers. A liar, a ruthless bastard. Not always but more often than not.

If you are one of those type two ass-kissers, let me tell you, it is just about right what you do. From politeness and friendliness only more of that can grow. Whether it is your boss at work, teacher, lecturer, coach, friend or uncle it can only be the right. It resembles Karma, what goes around comes around. It is not ass-kissing, it is, in fact, not being a complete idiot, hiding yourself and hope something good will come falling from the sky. If you think so I hope something hard will hit you from the sky that makes you realise that.

Don’t kiss asses but enjoy human contact with all your conversations, calls, emails. Let curiosity guide you. One way or another, it will get you further and you will feel happy with yourself.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mh9cG5dzs-U

A flourishing jazz scene, beautiful sights, good coffee, delicious food and an old town that lures you around its old streets to invite you to discover one of the most charming cities in Europe. Prague, with its bohemian heritage is worth a trip because it’s enjoyable and only half as expensive as Paris.
Lokal Inn, a lovely, rustic hotel with a lot of charm only one minute away of the famous “Karlov Most”, the bridge that was built hundreds of years ago. Trombonists play on top of it every hour from 10 am on. This was a much more pleasing sound to hear than a ring tone from a phone. Waking up to that sound basically made you happy about getting up and preparing to explore all the little cafes which not only offer fantastic illy coffee but also domestic schnapps. The name is derived from the fruit that it’s made of such as plums and apples. Slivovice is by far the most sold version of this typical Eastern European liquor. It’s strong and it’s warming.
The nightlife is an interesting mixture of western hits with some German influence. In a bar called “Lucerna bar”,  70s, 80s video parties are highly popular and so dancing to the tunes of Nena’s 99 Luftballons and Micheal Jackson’s “Black or White”. People are friendly, in a party mood and not just standing around as if they had a broom stuck up their arses.
In terms of bookshops I have never seen something as whole-heartedly decorated as the “Shakespeare – A synove and sons” shop just a minute away from our hotel. Old type-writers, posters, carpets in an ancient-like old building next to a side-creek of the Moldau.
The culinary way of living in Prague is extraordinarily diverse from classic  Knödel, dumplings made of potato or yeast accompanied with goulash to Italian or Asian food everything can be found. After a night at the Swan Lake ballet this is a perfect welcome for an empty stomach. It’s delicious, the ambiance is romantic and more often than not you will find a small jazz band playing old time classics. Jazz is everywhere, good music is ubiquitous in this city. Be it with buskers on the bridges, in clubs,bars, cafes or restaurants. Prague has elegance and style.
If you dare to take a plane to other cities than Paris, London and Berlin, then Prague is a destination worth exploring.

A rough, bluesy voice starts humming and the acoustic guitar accompanies the lyrics “These honky tonk women…” while the sun shimmers through the curtains and I stretch myself in bed. It’s 7:57 A.M. and my day starts. I don’t like to set my alarm clock to even numbers. Actually, when I think about it, I don’t like my alarm clock at all.

I motion sleepy out of bed my big, cosy bed and leave it empty behind me, even without girlfriend these days. Then, I force my body in a tiny shower which has no water pressure whatoever, I lean towards the wall that at least some drops of water reach my head. It’s typical for England. Things don’t need to work the way their supposed to be working. Anyways, I survive and slightly enjoy the awakening impact of the water and continue my morning routine. I grab my Gillette Super Blade Ultimate to make the guy in the mirror look like he does some serious grown-up work. Shaving, up, down, up, down, below the nose and that’s it. With a monstrous effort I succeed to wash my hands and my face with the extremely short water taps. At least they separate cold from warm water, so that you don’t need to adjust anything but just burn your hands or freeze them. It’s 8:06, I already burnt my hand and ricked my neck. Back in my by-the-heater-dried-out room I slip in my bankster-uniform, make the bunny ears tight so they don’t fall of…, done, shoelaces tied up properly and there we go down the stairs to the kitchen. I head straight for my Swiss muesli, proper milk not that skimmed shit, pour some in a bowl and eat it spoonful after spoonful. Delicious. Four elements which can make any morning a good morning. I like my muesli with loads of milk, I seem to be weird but I like it. Back in the bathroom, my clock says it’s already 08:25. I brush my teeth, grab my stuff, and pack a book. Always have an interesting book with you I say. You never know when you have to wait unexpectedly.

After a nice and relaxing five-minute walk through the run-down East Londoner part called Leyton, I find myself in front of a completely packed Tube station. It’s 8:30 and I would have made it to work on time. If-cases are well-represented in London. As I should find out later, an incident caused some troube at 7:15 and the knock-on effect played his part until now. What the fuck?! Well, I take the bus. I squeeze myself as friendly as I can into a over-crowded bus. Apparently, I wasn’t the only genius thinking of taking the bus instead. It takes quite some time to get to Stratford by bus, I even have some time to read a bit in my book. That is why you should always have a book with you. 9:00 A.M. sharp, and I’m in Stratford. I swipe my Oyster card, pass through the gate and make my way to the Overground towards Liverpool Street. From there I can easily walk to work. No sooner said than done and only 15 minutes later I find myself in the midst of the “City”.
Everyone dressed in the corporate uniform is marching with expressionless faces to a heap of paper at the office. Women in clinging office suits, on high heels and too much make-up lolling through the rough, uneven streets of London. Others, on the other hand, look happy and satisfied with what they do and with life in general. I turn left to go to Leadenhall Market, it’s 9:22 now, I’m not as late as I thought I’d be. I ring the bell, it answers, I respond and it starts buzzing. Upstairs in the office I greet my colleague. I tell her what happened this morning and why I’m late. She then explained that an incident this morning at around 7:15 has caused all the trouble on the Central line. Once more I was late and once more I have a story to write about. Who knows, maybe I will make it to the office on time another day. But no one blames me if I don’t. As I said, it’s England and things don’t need to work the way their supposed to be working.

I’m 20 now. I enjoyed my birthday during the whole weekend. I celebrated with flatmates, colleagues, friends and I am about to tell you how cool it is to be in London for your 20th birthday.

We were in Ten Bells pub on Thursday evening drinking and enjoying ourselves. Nothing special really, except that the notorious Jack the Ripper has found his last victim in this place over 100 years ago. It was the very first time all of us went out together. We all lived in the same house for more than half a year and yet the whole of our flat never went out together. It was the 3rd February. Two days to go until I actually got 20 but such an auspicious moment with my flatmates couldn’t be missed. In the mood to party, we made our way to the Big Chill Bar in Brick Lane and met some Swedish people. Both studied art and were exploring London, later we met some French people who were kind of weird because everyone was everyone else’s girl-/boyfriend. At around midnight, however, we were in the mood to have some food and went to the best bagel place in London. A salt beef bagel for 3.40£ made me happy instantly. Beigle Bake is the place to go to if you think you don’t like bagels because you will be astonished about the fact that you actually  love it. Stuffed and back home we had some cans and deep, profound discussions about the meaning of life. And other things.

February 4th, I had the morning off because I knew I’d need it and it was wonderful to wake up at almost noon, fully recovered for another day of celebration. The first thing I needed to do to go to a lunch meeting with my company. Excellent Thai food near Aldgate made the afternoon quite short and the whole office went partying to Agenda. The popular bar in Mincing Lane, has long happy hours, live music on Fridays and friendly, attractive staff. The birthday of my colleague and me plus the leaving of another colleague were more than enough reasons to knock back half a dozen bottles of champagne and rock the place. It sounds as if we drank a lot. There is no objection to that to be honest. Dancing with random nine-to-fivers from the City was great fun and many at some point knew that it was my birthday. The only money I spent that night was one pound. Only one pound. I spent this very coin on a Chupa Chups Lollipop in the toilet.

5th February, the big day finally arrived. My birthday. I’m officially 20. I did not feel more mature, intelligent or wise but I realised that it is a big step in life. My Facebook wall was flooded with congratulations that I almost drowned in notifications. Some by people I don’t know that well who probably have just too much time but mostly by good friends. This was the day I would celebrate with two good friends and my girlfriend. The only thing I knew though was, that I would need to be at Holborn station at 5pm. During the morning I was skyping with my family who are the cutest and most lovable people I know. They actually made a Black Forest birthday cake for me and celebrated my birthday with a big poster hanging in the background that said “Congratulation for your 20th birthday”. That was so heart-warming. With a smile I took a walk from St.Paul’s Cathedral to pass some time on my own, always accompanied by thought of my life, where I am, where I will go and realised that I am very happy. I am 20 and very happy with my life. Still many challenges to face and obstacles to overcome but absolutely happy.

I was waiting for my friends in Café Nero near Holborn. I had no idea what would happen. I was innocently drinking a cappuccino, dressed casually, ready for a surprise. We walked to the prestigious, posh and elegant Kingsway Hall Hotel nearby. Feeling completely under-dressed we were lead to our table for the dinner. We all were, surprised by the ambient and felt slightly wrong at place with shoulder-free tops or Converse shoes. The wine card was the first challenge I faced, though, I managed quite well with some vague vocabulary about taste and scent of the wine. The dinner was followed by the actual big surprise: a comedy show. Four hilarious comedians, I can’t remember their names, gave the best show which made me laugh hard and heartily. Coincidentally, we had front-row seats, right in front of the mic. We were not just watching but experiencing the show. Being part of the whole mockery about Swiss people and others made it a ten times more memorable night. It was so much fun, laughing out load about their jokes. At some point during the show, when one was talking about either religion or politics you could easily notice that the laughter was limited since, obviously, some felt offended. I laughed anyways, when the Pope was entitled the head of the world’s largest pedophile ring I laughed and the fact that comedians were struggling to come up with jokes during 8 years of Bush administration because he wrote the best jokes himself. That was just hilarioius.

I am a happy guy and happy to have my friends around me, and my family, and my workmates. In the end, I absolutely enjoyed Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The icing on the cake though was the champagne brunch with my friends on Sunday with salmon and fresh croissants. All of us sitting around the table, talking and having a laugh, while the morning sun was shining through the window after an eventful weekend which I will always remember. I’m 20 now.

I will enjoy the days and do my best to recover from new year celebrations in order to be able to provide you with many more interesting posts about all kinds of things next year.

Now it is time to prepare for holiday and for those who celebrate Christmas it is time to show how important other people are for you. Make a nice present, call someone or do something else. It is supposed to be a holiday of love. Show it to the people you love. It is not about money or self-gratification, it should be only to have a good time with people that you could rely on during the year. Who was there when you needed someone to listen? Who made you smile with a small letter, mail or gift when you least expected it? Who gave you a call one night when you did not feel well? Who could you talk to when you wanted to and be yourself without disguising your real emotions? It is exactly those people who deserve a present from you. Without such celebrations people would stop making presents for anyone. Christmas is just a very auspicious moment and brought to every one’s mind since everything is covered in decorations, music on the radio is all Christmassy and so on. People don’t have to make a present but they can and the best time for that is Christmas. Make someone you like smile and I can tell you there is nothing more worth than a happy smile of someone that you like and is close to you.

Thanks to all people who read this blog, I appreciate it a lot and look forward to being back next year.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

This is not one of those London experience entries. Nonetheless, London inspired me for this blog entry. Ever since I arrived in this metropolis I had difficulties with getting informed about what is happening around the world. I feel very unsettled by the fact that newspapers are just rubbish here. How do people get informed about things? It took a friend of mine several weeks until she found out that a huge oil spill was threatening marine life in the Gulf of Mexico. Even more bizarre is that she was told by her parents in Switzerland via Skype.

Metro News, The Evening Standard and many other newspapers inform the general public about recent affairs of celebrities and spread rumours which do not bear any important nor useful information. It’s very stupid, basically. People are being dumbed down. They take what they get and think it is important and other events of much higher relevance are being neglected by the majority. The problem is not that people don’t care. It is rather the fact that newspapers publish pointless stuff on the front page which everybody will read since it appears to be significant. Small, little pieces of news won’t be read because they seem unimportant. Media corporations encourage the process of dumbing down because they need to attract people’s attention and won’t be funded unless they write about celebs, scandals, excesses and so on. That is absolutely sad. We just get news and have to deal with it and if we would like some quality news we have to look for it. Shitty news will be brought to us by most newspapers, TV and radio voluntarily!

In comparison to Switzerland I feel much less informed about current affairs than here. There are possibly a couple of explanations but the foremost reason is certainly the system of direct democracy. People in Switzerland get to vote every quarter of the year and can oppose basically all major decisions of the parliament. Thus, people inform themselves what is happening and parties are highly active when it comes what they promote. Topics affecting small villages are being discussed just as well as changes in the constitution. All that is not the case in the UK as far as I can conclude from my observations and chats with people.

It has a resemblance of zombies wandering around having no idea what decisions are made behind their backs though it all happens right in front of their eyes.

FURTHERMORE and ON THE OTHER HAND

We are being manipulated by powerful corporations which virtually own the news. Many people are aware of that and just don’t give a flip. (Flip here means fuck) I have friends who are really into alternative news which sometimes make more sense but most aren’t.

No matter how much we want to understand what is really happening around the world we cannot possibly process every bit of information. That is maybe why we grab only the headline news. But as I said not all of us are able to dedicate as much time to find out what really happens in the world. So, we just decide to ignore it or more precisely to just take note of it but do neither believe nor spread it because we know it is just the “official” version of what happened. As long as we do not stop to think on our own it is good. And I think my posts are getting longer and longer and I know your time is limited which is why I’ll just stop here.

Chapter I

It was a beautiful Saturday night out with friends. I, as always, enjoyed myself and was happy about the weekend, new people I meet and much more. But one thing ended my happiness abruptly. My two, good friends who visited me and whom I went out with were robbed. It was not a dramatic, life-threatening robbery in a dark alley of London but in the Cloakroom of the place we were at. Quite tragic, phones, wallet and keys were gone. And for me personally, my nice, little, black notebook was also in there and therefore gone. My precious notes which are worthless for anyone else since they only contain private thoughts, ideas and observations of mine which I sometimes share with people either on my blog or in real life. I was upset. Of course my friends also had every reason to be upset but I was too. It is not the financial loss that it would cause to buy a replacement, it is rather the content that was uniquely formulated when I experienced moments in my life in which I felt that I had to write them down because it would be worth remembering them later in my life. I loved the idea of using a notebook since I arrived in London. Pages I could fill with everything I like preserved for my future self. I imagined myself twenty years later reading my notes and remembering all the things I experienced from weird people I met to beautiful moments on a bench watching the sun set and the leaves fall from the trees marking the end of summer. All that was gone with my book. The chances to find it or that someone would care were nearly zero. The person who stole my friend’s bag probably did not aim to violate my privacy and yet it is an uncanny feeling that somebody else might be reading all the things I wrote. It was mainly for the memories that were gone which made me feel down. It must be like a photographer whose film was not put in correctly while he took pictures. Or, more probably, these days the memory card would be faulty by the moment you try to look at hundreds of pictures you took on your computer. You might remember it but it is still gone and gone forever. Only memories in everybody’s head are left.

Chapter II

Monday morning, London Central, thousands of people marching to work just like me. Still the bitter taste of loss but slightly better since I bought a new nice, little, black notebook. I was at work and received an email from somebody saying that he found my notebook on a window sledge in Covent Garden. A sudden and overwhelming feeling of elation filled my entire body. It was Karma, the universe helped me. Good people are so rare. I try to be one of those. I give things I find back even if there is an effort involved when doing so. It is mainly because I hope that in case I lose something, somebody will make an effort to give it back to me. And so it happened when I received that mail. Karma is real. I believe in that certain balance in the universe which evens out every deed regardless if good or bad. I just cannot believe how lucky I am. I have my notebook and notes which I should look after much better from now on.

Epilogue

One way or another, I will keep on writing in my blog and in my notebook. My notebook, however, has had its first travel through the streets of London and found its way back to me.

The end

Today was different. Tube services did not work obviously. It was shocking when I found out that Leyton station was closed entirely and most of the Central Line was not operating. Newspapers have warned citizens of the capital to be ready to face difficulties but no one really expected that it all would be sort of paralysed. For some people it seemed that bad for some it didn’t. The Evening Standard reported that the strike did not affect people as bad as predicted. Still, it took me double the usual time to get to work.

A good thing though is that all zombie commuters who just get on the tube, go to work, have lunch, work more, go home and watch telly were woken up of their trance. People had to start thinking about how to get to work. New streets were discovered as people attempted to arrive at work on time. It’s so easy to take everything for granted. When you look at it from that perspective it’s pretty good that there was a strike. People were thrown out of their routine which is good sometimes. Take the bike, boat or try even walking for a change. It’s not as you have to walk a marathon but a bit of walking won’t hurt.

On the other hand, people pay for a service and do not get it. Strikes are as far as I know mostly based upon either not accepting or not being able to understand a matter. Just like in France where people currently strike as well.

It is completely understandable that machines replace parts of our everyday’s life because it is more convenient. So, Oyster refill, renew, purchase machines replace people who sometimes sit around all day. Not all but many. Some won’t accept it. Especially, when you are affected yourself. You could even promise that they would be redeployed and trained to fulfil another function. This could for example be an implementation of 24/7 tube service during weekends. Loads of people would be needed for that and many would appreciate it enormously. You probably still will refuse to accept that you can be replaced by a machine and therefore protest.

Often people protest because the age of retirement is being raised. In France 60 will be replaced by 62 and that again in a couple of years will be updated to an even higher age. This is simply due to the fact that people are getting older. A government cannot pay their citizens if they life 10 years longer than 50 years ago. (Completely invented numbers which actually could be true but I was too lazy to look them up.)

Tomorrow, however, the strike will continue and I will enjoy it. I find new ways to work and since my boss told me that it is not bad if I came in later as a result of the strike I really don’t mind. People wake up! There are other things to worry about than arriving to work on time when over 7 million others have the same problem too. It will be tolerated; it is not your laziness. You should view it from an observers point rather than from a victim’s point of view. It is an opportunity you should seize and the best excuse to come late for work since you have all newspapers of London to prove it.

As you probably could interpret from the title of this blog post I will write about London (UK). So, I’m living in London for the next couple of months and it’s going to be legendary. Before, however, several things need to be sorted out.

It was a lovely Thursday evening when I first arrived at Gatwick Airport. There was I and my luggage which was no more than it should be. 20 kilograms of clothes, stuff and more stuff. Basically, enough for anybody, anywhere and for however long. After my arrival I went to a good friend of mine who provided accommodation for the time needed to find a place on my own.

Starting to communicate a.k.a. get a SIM card

If you ever look for a flat in London you will need a cell phone and a SIM card. I only needed a SIM since I already posses a phone. Where do you get a SIM? Let’s say T-Mobile. I went to T-Mobile because it seemed quite a good offer I saw on the internet before I went to London. Unfortunately, I was informed that I needed a UK bank account for that. Thrilled and enthusiastic I approached HSBC Bank to open an account. I waited for a couple of minutes and was then served by an employee. Once more I didn’t succeed since I had no address yet because I was staying with my friend. In fact, I did not even know her address.  So I was fucked. It seemed like a vicious cycle.

No SIM without bank account, no bank account without address and no flat without being able to contact people.

I stepped out of HSBC and just opposite there was a Llyods Bank which charges you 6£ a day for unplanned overdrafts with your VISA debit card. I did not know that and don’t mind about it now but you should consider it if you ever think of opening a bank account in the UK. I went to Llyods Bank and for some reason the lady there told me that she couldn’t open my bank account without my employer’s contract. Again, I had no idea what to do. My first day in London almost ended without a result. I nearly couldn’t check anything in my checklist. Despite all the obstacles that were thrown in my way by destiny I didn’t even for one moment consider giving up. I approached another T-Mobile because I really needed a SIM card to be able to communicate. Such a basic need and those cold-blooded, competitive providers tell their potential customers to go away and open a bank account. And those even more cold-blooded banks telling me to go a get papers and a place to live. Anyways, I was again in a T-Mobile store and this time a much friendlier guy told me that I could not get that special offer I saw on the internet because it needs contract. He offered me a pay as you go SIM with internet booster that kind of stuff for a fistful of pounds. I was good to go. Relief spread through my body when I succeeded getting a SIM card. I was keen to continue my quest and open a bank account. I went to another Llyods Bank and a much friendlier woman was able to help me. She could open an account and needed no contract; even my workplace address was good enough. Simply splendid. I now had a SIM, bank account and was ready to seek for flats.

Where are all the Brits?

Gumtree, easyroommate, spareroom were my source websites to help me find a room. Gumtree in particular is fantastic. It’s well-known and hundreds of ads are posted every day. I don’t have much money that’s why I was looking for a cheap room in a flat share or house share. My budget was about 350£ which is not a lot. I’m talking about 350£ per month, not per week. It’s so exciting to look for flats in London. You’re sometimes scared, wondering, feeling awkward or just like a place. Which place you take depends on your budget and your interests. I wanted to be with at least some British people who I can talk to and improve my English. 7.5 million people live in London but I honestly can’t tell where the English people are in London. I’ve been to 6 flats in 6 days, all in different parts of the city and only 2 were not occupied by Uzbekistanis, Italian, French,  Japanese or Indian people. I’m not xenophobic I was just really wondering where the heck the people were that supposedly live in this country. At long last, I found a flat and it’s a great place. Doesn’t cost me much more than expected, it’s close to work and comfortable.

Silent pilgrims in corporate uniform

My first day at work was interesting. Interesting is neutral. Many impressions shape my first day. I was still at my friend’s place and I used to walk over London Bridge for the first couple of days which is quite cool. It starts at about 8 am when you see people in suits heading towards Bank. Thousands from all sides. Fat, skinny, white, black, small, tall, short, good-looking men and women in their suits march towards those huge, lifeless, concrete building owned by banks and insurance companies. So was I.

It’s fascinating that amongst all those people still almost everyone manages to be alone. No matter how stuck the tube is, no matter how close you site besides someone in the bus, people just wouldn’t talk to you. If you ever want to be alone and not disturbed go to Europe’s largest city, you will get more privacy than in any godforsaken village.

That was the first post of many to come. I already have had loads of other adventures but 1000 words is enough for now. Next time I will start an experiment. Talking to people in the tube.

Hi y’all

I have just watched that new film Shutter Island starring Di Caprio. Firstly, don’t worry I’m not going to spoil the entire plot with the end you would have never expected, I mean who comes up with such a script. The guy is called Scorsese and I hope I just spelled that correctly.

Anyways, that movie is remarkable in terms of the tension that is being built throughout the whole film. I literally did not get up once for over two hours. The movie is shocking and lacks truly no thing except maybe for a better audio line, AC3 sucks.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beEm-fgU5sQ

I imagined being in such a creepy place and just couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if I were in such a place completely sane and suddenly everybody says “your nuts”, “you belong here”, “you must stay here”, “you are a danger for society”. Mental illness facilities like that one are absolutely scary and I have no intention of going in there at all. I always imagine people who were lobotomised or drugged so that they are not capable of expressing themselves anymore. Such things just scare the hell out of me. Aren’t feeling everything we got? Everything is linked to our brain and if our brain gets mashed up by hardcore drugs what is it that remains?