So satisfied, yet so dissatisfied. So rich, yet so poor. Few good friends and yet so alone! Many is not always much. Sometimes very little is everything.
I’m sitting in the car, and the raindrops patter on the window. It’s cold and grubby outside and for that, no one wants to go outside. Only ones like me, who thinks she has to, are going outside.
I visited my Mom today, she does not live far away, and yet I see her too rarely. Like everyone else! They are all there, and yet so far away! But I need them all around me!
Cars with bright lights drive towards me, the wipers of the windshield frantically jump from left to right and in the streets, the lights are reflected and the raindrops make everything seem blurry. It’s already dark I do not like the darkness and I just hate to be alone.
Why am I always so sad so soon? I come from a high in direct case to the knee loose loosely. In between, there does not seem to be much. Where is this in between? There was so much of it! It was such a wide corridor, by making yourself comfortable!Now it is only a small, narrow balance beam on which I am balancing and constantly losing my balance. My feet seem to line up in a straight line, and yet it is not accurate enough. I sway and oarsmen with my arms. And yet I do not get compensated for what I miss so much. I shimmy from one branch to the other and hold on to getting more stability on the balance beam. And yet so many branches just break away, is it better to run faster? Do not look down? Look in the front! Have an eye on the future! I would like to, but I can not see the end. The balance beam seems to be of endless length. The longer you do something, the better you get in it. Unfortunately, I do not have the feeling. The rain is getting stronger, you only see individual cars driving. How comfortable and warm it would be for two at home. Feeling the closeness of someone whispering in your ear: “I do not leave you alone.”
Where is the stable self-assured woman? Where was she just hiding? The ground has swallowed, and left is only this ridiculous little beam that makes dancing impossible.
People want to have happy people around them. Nobody likes sad faces. Happiness is contagious, and everyone wants it around. And yet it is the sick souls that are interesting, it is the endless coils of our brains that promise so much more depth than just a laughing face. I do not want to be sad, that’s why I cling to a hope that does not exist. But what is the alternative? You have to hope for something, otherwise it is not there anymore. I support my head with both hands and close my eyes. I try to leave with my mind, I try to make it hover above me and look down on my body. What would I think, if I see myself? My sister had right as she said: “After a year and a half, it is now good! You have bathed in self-pity long enough now.” It’s exactly the same I would say to me if I did not knew me so well. I could hardly bear this sentence, because she does not know how it is. The only task I ever wanted for myself, is missing at once. To care for others, to have an open ear, and to be there, that was what I always wanted for others. For others and therefore for me. Only there is a problem, there I am alone, and there is no end in sight.
What have I been kidding, just to be alone? You have to shut your eyes when you really want something. And to what extent is that good? My mom asked me today if I’m happy. I answered yes, because I have everything. Having a roof over my head, enough to eat and appetite! I earn good money with little work and can buy almost anything. At home, the loveliest creature on earth is waiting for me and if she purrs on me then I’m home. My beautiful apartment, of which I promised myself, finally displaced the feeling of emptiness. The self-covered parquet and the self-painted walls, everything in self-work, I can not feel more connected to the apartment. And yet it is not a home.
It is pitch dark outside and not at all late. And yet I am incredibly tired
I’m a little scared of tomorrow, maybe then what used to be familiar was just strangers I’m afraid to destroy the beautiful memory. Then I have no more home slap me. Clap me, shake me, and tell me that I am an ********! Focus on the good and listen to your sister! It is bathed in self-pity enough.
But because nobody’s there, and I’m so terribly cold, I’ll get a bathwater now.