From Writhe’s journal:

I’m on a train to Köln. I had to get out of Berlin… I didn’t want to waste any more time there. I hung around for another day or two after seeing Anke, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls or tried to get in contact with me at all since I left her apartment. I wonder if she’s OK. The last I remember was some tough-looking dude (that she obviously knew) yelling at her and her yelling back. They were having an argument, a quarrel, dare I say a lover’s spat? No, I dare not. I don’t even want to think that that’s what it was. I hope she’s OK. I hope he didn’t hurt her in any way. I hope I didn’t get her into some sort of trouble, physical or otherwise. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have come all this way on some dumb fucking dream. I feel like some stupid schoolboy. I should have seen this whole thing coming. I should have seen what kind of a person she is, never returning my calls or emails. I had such a big crush on her.
I’m such a loser.
I spent so much time thinking about her and writing to her after I met her in New Orleans, when her band came through on tour. I pretty much ignored all the stuff going on around me and kept my focus on her. She didn’t reciprocate. I thought that she would eventually. I thought that maybe she was on tour, or was really busy or whatever other excuse I could come up with… And then I give up on her, mainly because my friends talk me into it. I write her one last letter and wipe my hands of the whole situation. I get ready to move on and I even find someone in my own town that’s interested in me and I feel the same. Life is going good and then she finally contacts me. And what do I do? I drop everything, absolutely EVERYTHING and get on the next flight to Europe. I am such a sap. What’s the term, “Hopeless Romantic?” What a complete and utter fool. Yep, that’s me. I totally ditch this new girl I’m seeing and make a huge mess of it all. I’m never going to be able to live that down. I’m never going to be able to face her ever again. I might as well just move somewhere that no one knows me and start completely over. I would think about not even going back to New Orleans at all if it weren’t for Mao. I can’t leave him behind. Not ever.
Alright, shut the fuck up. Stop being a whiny bitch. Stop thinking about that shit and look out the window. Look at where you are. Enjoy what you’re doing at this very second.

After the I found my way back to the hostel that morning I went immediately to sleep. I was OUT. Some of the people told me that night that they thought I was dead. My chest was barely moving when I breathed and someone actually put a mirror up to my nose to see if it would fog up. “I’ve slept through worse,” I told them. That afternoon, I went to a store that had an advertisement in one of those German gothic magazines, but it was closed by the time I got there. It was OK since I think I had already been there a couple days ago when I found it by accident. I went to a mini mall to look for some cheap boots as the ones currently on my feet are starting to fall apart. I suppose wearing them for almost 2 months straight will do that. I couldn’t find anything I wanted so I wandered around and found a music store. It had a large “darkwave” section and I ended up getting two Various Artists compilations. The first one is turning out to be kinda crappy. As I said, I am on a train to Köln. I hope no one has this seat reserved. I spent last night hanging out with M’s band. I went to their practice, which was pretty cool and then some of us went to this really run down bar. I think I ended up accidentally drinking a “churney peeveo.” The drummer bought me a second one and I ate some sort of sandwich thing that the bar had for sale, only because I was really hungry. The place itself was an absolute shit-hole. It looked like it was all found tables and chairs. Nothing matched. The bartender was very unfriendly-looking, but the company I was with and the conversation we had was great. All that was left at the end was me, M., and the drummer. they showed me which S-Bahn tracks to follow to get back to the hostel. I was about 3/4 the way back and that’s when the beer hit me. It hit me really hard. I don’t think I’ve ever had to piss/shit that badly in all my life. I had to power walk the rest of the way there and squeeze really hard going up the stairs to the hostel, saying to myself over and over again that I wasn’t going to shit my pants, willing my butt hole to remain closed. I almost didn’t make it. I made it to the bathroom with no time to spare. I pulled down my pants and some of my shit hit the seat…

I knew that was going to happen. I had to switch seats here on the train right after I got quite comfortable. Fuck. Now I’m in the very last empty seat on the train. I hope no one has it reserved.