Letter to T. (August 27, 2018)

Dear T.,

I think that I originally came to Dresden this summer in the hope of rekindling the more intimate connection we once had. I leave now without having achieved that, but I also leave with different perspectives. 

It is clear that we are the same kind of territorial existentialists who would prefer to adjust as little as possible for each other when sustaining a relationship, and that it would have been impossible to have a conventional, live-in arrangement. It was clear that a long-distance connection was the ideal way for us to be physically distant yet close in the heart. And it is clear that it was my fault that such an arrangement could not be sustained between us. 

I continue to be intrigued by the beauty of your mind, T. I still consider you as much more than a friend. It is hard to stop dreaming of holding you tight in my arms with my fingers wrapped around your back, and your chest pressed against mine. I would not pursue to keep you in the fingers of my conversation everyday if I did not yearn to have you by my side. 

It has been hard to decide whether it is good for me to return and it has been hard for me to acknowledge that the past cannot be reassembled. It is a pain that persists unnoticed, which only attacks during the sober silence of self-awareness. But to me the preciousness of the experiences we share is greater than the heartache of accepting that no more intimacy could be garnered.

The enchantment of the Zweisamkeit is effervescent and indulgent, indeed, but we know that the true peace of mind for the independent individual is achieved purely from within. The intrinsic existential satisfaction may be garnished further with the company of someone whose form and mind delight the senses and the heart. The redamancy and its rarity has contributed to the eternal value of the connection we share. 

I would say I have been partially enlightened. I have appreciated the different levels of mindfulness and the times when which is appropriate. Adapting the intellectual arrogance of those who can comprehend and express the wonder of nostalgia and the power of silence, I am thankful for a new level of self-awareness, which vests me with greater power in managing my own sense of ease with the living world around me, mitigating the hostility which I suspect leads to indirect psychosomatic anxiety, which I suspect is also indirectly fueled by my narcissism. It is valuable for me to be away from the external comfort of my family, but still in a home away from home that is Dresden, to realise my inner disequilibrium. 

The quest for a greater sense of Geborgenheit could be a lifelong one. I am aware of the materialistic-existential conundrum; I am too intelligent to pretend it is not there. I acknowledge that what I value most is to stare deep into someone’s eyes, to feel the wind blowing through my hair, to sense the sun radiating onto my arms and to notice the water flowing over my hands. To this I can say that I will intend to have a penthouse to better appreciate the sky and a yacht to better appreciate the sea. It is so hard to eliminate the hatred and the arrogance, which are widespread among those with whom I have grown up. The indefinitely-arrogant will never realise the pretentiousness, and the never-arrogant will never realise the struggle. I am so blessed to have witnessed both sides, the materialistic delight and the existential satisfaction. It may be easier for many people who will never see the other side, who are too unintelligent or who are too stubborn: the poor who are uninspired to explore the greatness of the world that awaits, and the rich who fail to recognize that the best things are free and have always been there. 

Why is it so incomprehensibly rare for people to be truly both materialistic and existential, to be conventionally successful and spiritually-obliged, to be a patron of the sciences and of the arts? I am thankful to be able to comprehend, practice and value all the opposites, but it is makes it harder to decide where to go.

It would be so divine to be with you. But I think I could, for your benefit, consider it even more precious for me to be confronted with the stimulus that you have given and not to be with you. An eternal calling to seek a better awareness of life through understanding existence through science and appreciating existence through art. I am grateful to have fallen in love with you, because it has made me fall in love with the totality of the tangible world and the intangible world. 

Unrequited love (April 27, 2018)

If you have never experienced the concomitant beauty and pain of unrequited love, then, indeed, you have never lived. The settings of the experiences that you recall do not matter, and it is, in fact, just the presence of that person which made the experiences worth remembering. It is overwhelming to think that someone means so much to you, it is so powerful and so compelling that it makes you think that it is right. 

It fills you with a continual obsession, an unhealthy obsession for someone who is enchanting, but who you know, through sense, is not right. It drowns you in a spiral of self-pity, a self-pity that does not know why the infatuation is not returned, a self-pity that hopes it could be returned. It suffocates you in an unworthy hope, a hope that someday it could be returned, that someday it could be again like it was on the first and second times you met.

Every insignificant detail is recalled because you have believed that those insignificant details are satisfying to recall, but instead every aspect of them now welcomes a haunting of the past and facilitates its encroachment into your enjoyment of the present. In fact, it is not that person who means anything to you at all, it is the idea of that person which is worth something. The actions of that person, their sins against you and the inferiority they have expressed to you seem not to matter at all, because one can only think about the person at their best. The image of his perfection and his intellect is immortalised in the mind forever, and even though he and time destroy that idea every day, the idea is still perfectly preserved in your mind. 

The only thing that did matter in the first place was your perception of that person’s mind. There are far more physically attractive people whose paths cross you every day. But your perception that he was incredibly intelligent and profoundly intellectual, and therefore in some way unique and special, is what drove the obsession and the craze. Instead of the excellence of beauty being appreciated in him, you appraised the idiosyncratic beauty, the idea that he looked different. In turn, one can begin to appreciate and appraise anything for its uniquity, despite its true worthlessness.

The burden of having to continually think of him becomes a strain, an impediment to your satisfaction which may otherwise be achieved. The worst part is that one continues to relapse with the unworthy hope, considering again and again, a long time later, that perhaps it could work.

It seems so wonderful to delight in the craze that he has instilled, a longing to live and a drive to change yourself because you think that one day he might like you because you have become a better person. It is hard for you to realise that he, too, remains forever with an idea of you, and that no matter how much you change, he still will only see the original identity of you. That identity of which he is now scared, from which he tries to run away, because you threaten to suffocate him with your desires, your hopes and your farfetched dreams.

You can only begin to see yourself as too passionate, because it seems somewhat justified to chase after him, because you think you want him, and that he will make you feel complete. 

Interestingly, you can also remember the times you were especially alone, in those times the setting around you did matter because it made you reinspect upon the meaning of your own existence. Perhaps at one point you could even consider that you were strong enough to move forward and value yourself, and not return to sit inside the painful trap, but this notion was soon erased when you began to think of him again.

It becomes a cycle of busying yourself with a new love interest, who never seems to fully replace the original him, whereby you still think of him sometimes. And because you are never ready to let go of the idea of him, you never let these new people touch your soul, because you are convinced that no one could ever be as intellectually incredible or as unique has him. In-turn, it only stops you from replacing him. Discarding others only strengthens the idea of him, preventing others from ever being able to make you truly happy. 

Then, one day you find someone new who you have little hope in, but you try it out. For a first, you attempt to discard the thought of him truly. It doesn’t really happen. But the memories are weaker. You are happier in the moment, and you seem to create new memories that are worth remembering. Sometimes, of course, you need to have a look back on the idea of him. But you must never indulge in the idea of him, otherwise you plunge into a vicious cycle of nostalgia.

Nostalgia is absolutely beautiful, so beautiful that you want to enjoy it all the time. But it is the absolute trap and the main impediment to your happiness in the moment. I do not need a movie to encompass my feelings, because I can express them myself. The days you go back to the very same places that you were with him hurt even more. Stepping back into the aura of the lobby of the InterContinental Düsseldorf, the warmth of the memories of December 2016 flow back and hit you, and the Christmas decorations are back in place. (You, too, have a hotel, which you have seen in every season, where the staff know your greed and the rooms know your secrets.) The receptionist hands you back the letter containing the 16-page envelope that you wrote for him, and you realise that he never bothered to pick it up. You are reminded of the unworthy hopes you had, you re-read the letter, and you relapse.

It does get better, but only if you make it better for yourself. Do not move on hopeful; move on with certainty. The memories are too idyllic to discard. Indeed, unrequited love never dies, and instead it fades, much like lives, which we cannot save, but which we can prolong. There is no someday maybe we would perhaps be friends, because it is not like that. Because the nostalgia is too beautiful that it needs to be relived. It is not quantum mechanics, hopes cannot be burning in passion and extinguished with disinterest at the same time... maybe the hopes can exist so in one’s optimistic mind, but between two realists, they cannot.

End of High School (May 19, 2017)

The last two years have had a profound impact on my physical, intellectual and spiritual self. The 18 months of the IB Diploma programme have undoubtedly been the most academically challenging, interpersonally fulfilling and spiritually enlightening of my life so far.

“It is so pretentiously splendiferous to indulge in the elevating language of the baccalaureate and its effervescent pretentiousness”, but it is wonderful, too, to acknowledge the success of this rigorous academic framework in constructing, by far, the strongest possible foundation for success.(Although most of my actions are effort-efficient, time-sensitive and commitment-aware, my decision to pursue Mathematics as an additional higher level subject is one which I do not (fully) regret. Acknowledging my relative mathematical fluency, but also recognising my arithmetic shortcomings, the hundreds of hours that I have invested into this course have been the most traumatic, but also the most fulfilling of those constituting my educational existence. Respectively, Chemistry, Biology, and English Language and Literature at higher level have been interesting, extending and fulfilling subjects into which I have delved deeply and which I have enjoyed thoroughly. Now, I would be lying to say that my two standard level subjects were personally significant, and so I will not say. I can proudly proclaim that the ‘extensive but not exhaustive’ curricula have exercised my ability to readily retain information to regurgitate it succinctly and sophisticatedly.)

Notwithstanding, “along with CAS”, the IB Diploma Programme has been an incredibly multi-faceted programme: it has developed my specific skills, garnered interpersonal relationships, furthered my interest in the sciences, facilitated my exploration of the arts, cultivated my dedication to helping others, offered me a stimulating journey of ongoing learning, and ultimately, nurtured me to prosper into a holistically informed and humanistically aware individual, prepared to grow, discover and dream into the future.

In this time, I have undergone struggles far more demanding than those I had previously anticipated and witnessed spectacles far more captivating than those I had previously envisaged. I have broadened my horizons through excessive travel over expansive distances, meeting unique people and discovering interesting places. Indeed, the travel within the time of the diploma can be quantified as 127,800 kilometres around the world, achieved with 38 flights, producing 127 days away from home as 51 stays in 24 different places (between eleven cities in eight counties across two continents), but the notion that it has been an enlightening time of discovering new places, and rediscovering not-so-new places can only be appreciated with the qualitative.   

On two trips, intended only to mark a momentary escape from the academic hardship of the diploma, I learnt more about myself than I was prepared. Refining my emotional existence has been an explorative journey during which I have gained the most valuable experiences. Recurrently plunging into a European setting, I have been increasingly encouraged to diverge from the hyper-materialistic and money-centric society into which I have been born, beckoning me to consider where my true satisfaction lies. I value so much the time and devotion of one sincere person whose striking compassion left a lasting imprint on my perception of others, with a heart so pure and radiant to tell me that "God had a good day when he created [me]", who has established the bounds from which I can now prescribe myself some self-worth. I have been urged to console the underlying superficiality, materialism and promiscuity that was socially acceptable, and even applaudable, within the rather shallow-minded group to which I associated.

Nonetheless, every time I travel, I am offered valuable time to realise, re-inspect and redefine my thoughts.Sitting on a bench on a starry night by the Rheinuferpromenade, viewing the city light scintillate across the river flowing in the dark of the night, I was asked to “imagine sitting here alone with someone [I] genuinely love” and eventually I have seen that eternal content may be achieved through spending time with someone who means to me not less than the entire world itself.

Undeniably, the simultaneous beauty and pain of (unrequited) love is an emotional roller-coaster from which most would opt out, but it is also a tour that should be taken; by travelling to “the undiscovered country from whose bourn, no travellers return” we may perhaps proffer “an admiration of the individual's ability to experience a[n...] empathic connection with others” and fill ourselves with the precious notion that true emotions do exist and that there is someone who cares. 

Much of the interpersonal interactions that give our lives character and soul are lost in our failure to reflect on the things that we have done and the people we have met. (Whether this would just be the incessant pain from living in a distant city, disconnected from reality and seeking temporary enjoyment though intoxication to bear the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” that we so desire, is another issue...)It has been a journey into the minds of interesting individuals, from meeting for the first time people that I already knew (Божидар Илиев), rekindling greatness (Nada Menhem), performing language (Rahel Teresa Samarakkody), nurturing materialism (Natalie Walker), cultivating chocoholism (Tey), and contemplating existence to affirming ‘an appreciation of elevated presentation’ (Emily Lo), trying to defy the laws of physics (Lucien Schünke), patiently ‘waiting to reach intoxication' (Lara Nicol), sampling 'alternative music’ (Lukas Tntsch), falsely creating an impression of collaboration (Henrik Brockmeyer), and fulfilling the impending narcissism that sustains existence (Adam Gormley). 

A whole barrage of unique idiosyncrasies garnished this continuum of exploration. From the urban predispositions of Photoshoping to perfection and Starbucksing to addiction, the academic obligations of studying through dusk and memorising until psychosis, and the unsettled preoccupations of intoxication till dawn and caffeine until palpitation, to the metropolitan indulgences of purchasing until fatigue and gorging until nausea, and the naturalist satisfactions of strolling in silence and contemplating unto resolution.

It has been an exploration of often overlooked splendour, from strolling endlessly along the glistening riverside, wandering through cobbled streets in the heart of the town, inhaling the crisp air of the forest, meandering through the ceaseless greenery of the park and dwelling among ancient ruins under the heat of the desert sun, to staring over the metropolitan horizon from skyscraper window-sills, venturing into abandoned warehouses by the light of the phone and with the security of confidence, lusting at the nostalgic beauty of the old world, capturing the mesmerisation of the perfect sunset, and falling in love with the beauty of the night. 

Nostalgia is often neglected amidst the overwhelming rush of preoccupations that bombard us in the present. Perhaps not all have the ability to perceive it, or perhaps not all have the time to appreciate it, but for those of us who can indulge in its melancholic roller-coaster and plunge into its ecstatic delight, much enchantment awaits.I would like to sincerely thank those with whom I have shared a nostalgic moment in time, those with whom I have forged a connection and those whom I will want to remember into the future. 

I would also like to express my appreciation for all those who I have met on my quest, who have assisted in establishing my identity and indefinitely shaped me to become the unique individual that I am to this very day. 

“Satisfy your physical self, challenge your intellectual self and nurture your spiritual self, but pursue and cherish your ‘other half’, because “a life with love is a life that's been lived”.”

“The light that greets you at the end of the tunnel is better than the gold you must leave at the bottom.”

“There is a point of mesmerisation and admiration where any sort of passion is masked by awkwardness, inevitably spurring profound embarrassment.”

“I hope that it will remain, indefinitely, in the distance, but perhaps the embellished thought will gradually fade and eventually dissolve into the mist of time.”

“Instead of worrying about how ugly you are, you should be worrying about how stupid you are.” 

“My life is just a vicious cycle of continuous intoxication interspersed with intense academic progression.”

“I suffer from severe psychological indigestion.” 

"Technically we find everything interesting that we don't know completely, if we don't hate it absolutely."

“Piano playing and piano performing, debating, MUN-ing and MUN cabinet-ing, medical school workshopping, and photographing (including maintaining my 18k followers on Instagram), truly reaffirmed my confidence in knowing that I am, indeed, a multi-talented narcissist.”

“Being drunk alone is like masturbating without a hand.”

“I have often wondered, but now have come close to conclude, that I seem to live a life of which most people dream, but continue to dream of the things most people already have.”

“I want to be the gardener of your handsome soul.” --Tom Richter

“Transcend your context.”--Flora Mather

“All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep.” --D.H. Lawrence

“When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.” --Cormac McCarthy

Letter to L. (December 19, 2016)

Dear L.,
Acknowledging that is most likely not what we intended, I still feel it fair for you to know that I have developed the strongest infatuation for you. 

Perhaps you brought me to the hospital and held there so you could secretly administer some potion of the night, which would drown me with an uncontrollable mesmerisation for you, like the Shakespearean lunatic that I already am becoming. 

You brought me, somewhat, into the heart of your everyday life, something that others to which I have been close have been reluctant to do. I am honoured to have been part of it, even if just for one precious day. 

I know that I feel so strongly for you it is at best 'unprofessional' and 'unconventional', which is what makes it transcend past the adorned 'bullshit' of existence, and what instead makes it true and real. 

Understandably, this is more than what you would have expected from someone who is a 'rich, drunk, party-fuck' who teased about role-playing with you, but it is my emotional sensitivity that has led me to an awe of you. 

You have entranced me like an insect towards the light, which kills itself along the quest of desperation in the hope of being one with someone so radiantly wonderful. Maybe, this momentary break from my academic life drives me to compulsively pursue others things, like you. Yet, I know as someone inclined to intellectual excellence, that there is little time to address interpersonal matters, and which partially explains your little, or very withdrawn, communication with me, but I know that the interest is not fully returned at the magnitude at which I have for you. 

Perhaps we met at the wrong time and perhaps we are not right. I will always be immersed in my materialistic drive and will not settle for being in anything less than the '€40k/mo club' and in such a way have spent what I have to dwell in Nordrheinwestfalen, perhaps not indirectly, to stay closer to you. Whereas, you have encouraged me to re-recognise that one 'can' be fulfilled with satisfaction from existential hedonism rather than superficial materialism. Yet, I remain the insane-intelligent; and you the calculated-intelligent.
Perhaps yes we are both indeed interpersonally-fluent and intellectually-successful, but, because of where I usually live, I still wander in uncharted waters when I am around guys my age who enchant my mind and my heart. And so I thank you for showing me, and opening the door, further than has anyone else, to what there is to value in finding in someone who is each other's world entire in mind, body and heart.

My yearning to be close to you, to exist inside of you and to be one and the same with you, one cannot fully comprehend it. My desire to hold you in my arms day after day and my wish to have you forever as mine is immense. My craving for you is unquantifiable and my admiration for you is unrepresentable. 

I leave with a smile in my eyes knowing that I have at least met someone who I would have the passion to be with forever, although of course we know oh how so foolish that would be.
You have brought me to a place of 'psychosis' and mesmerisation to which I have never ventured before, and here I only find the most captivating wonders.

I leave with an enchanting memory of you, for the incredible person you are: with the face, body, mind and heart of my dreams, and with that I want to stare into until the end of my days.

I wish you all the best, of course knowing you are destined for success, with a plan and a drive to accomplish, like myself. I want the best for you. 

Love never dies, and instead it fades, much live lives, which we cannot save, but which we can prolong. Perhaps I hope to meet you again, someday. 

I will remain with the enchanting memory of you and its wondrous glory, as it slowly threatens to disappear amidst the horizon of the encroaching darkness of time. 

Letter to L. (December 15, 2016)

Dear L.,

I just wanted to take the time to express myself. Fundamentally, I am grateful to have met you and would like to thank you for the ‘interesting’, enjoyable, and ‘fun’ time we have had together.

Despite out fluctuating narcissism and our impending promiscuity as interpersonally-fluent and intellectually-successful individuals, there is in me still a unactivated spot of blind affection in my heart (or rather amygdala), which has recently exposed me to some potentially strong emotions towards you.

You know that you are profound, kind to ‘worthy people’, beautiful and destined to a great future (much like myself, I like to think) because of you inherited abilities and drive to succeed, but you are also a truly incredible individual. 

In my view, I feel a rare psychological and physiological connection has been achieved, and I obviously wish that you consider the same, although perhaps not enough time has yet passed to tell. 

You have helped me realise that I am so immersed in my own facade that is perpetuated by my materialism, rather than delighted by my existence that is sustained by my intellectualism. I have often wondered, but now have come close to conclude, that I seem to live a life of which most people dream, but continue to dream of the things most people already have.

You have evidenced that some ‘mixed-boy’ is unlikely to waste my time, that some of the sexually-adventurous are also some of the purest, and that those who live the furthest away may be the closest. 

Mainly because of the physical distance to you in the long term, it may be feasible to dismiss it, but I can only dream that some small infatuation is reciprocated by you. 

I will remain with the enchanting memory of you and our amazing time together.
I hope you will be blessed with all the best of luck in your future endeavours.

I hope that we remain in each other’s lives, indefinitely, in the distance, but perhaps the embellished thought will gradually fade and eventually dissolve into the mist of time.