14 November 2007

YOU, THEY & WHAT IT DOES TO ME or being melancholically poetic

Time heals all wounds, they say. Time will let you forget, they say. They are lying. Or do they not know? It’s not time that covers things from the past and creates something new. It’s everyday life. Someone should tell them. But that’s not possible. Just like it’s impossible to direct the wind or catch a drop in your hand, it’s impossible to talk to them. If you could it would change their essence and would make them be something they are not.
That I stopped with always, constantly thinking of you is not the work of time. No, it’s been the things that concern me daily, filling my head. It has been appointments, demands, headaches, skirmish, work and a deep conversation once in a while. But you are still there. Somewhere deep inside me. Not visible, but not buried to deep, as a petty word by them can bring you into my mind. And then you are back again. With full force and stronger then ever. They do not even realize how they provoke it. They mention your name or your memory without second thoughts, without calculating the consequences. Why should they? They are not affected by it. For them you are only one of many, a seemingly accidental choice from countless interchangeable.
For me it’s different. When you are back, I feel. Sometimes it’s pain, as if a train run me over. Then again care, a suddenly risen maternal instinct? Sometimes it’s sympathy and pity, towards you or me or both of us.
I feel like taken back in time and don’t know any more what’s better. Then? Now? I could hunger again and know all along that this time, like back then, it will change nothing. Nothing at all. Hunger is only one of many options to express my feelings. To show them openly. What good would come out of it?
My situation did not really change since then. What I have are feelings and this hope. Nothing is in reach. It will never be. When I am dead honest with myself, and when I permit their questions, I do not even know for sure if I really want to change things around.
Was my hope bigger then? Most likely, and so was the pain and the hopelessness. Today I do have my daily routine and the diversion it can offer. It’s not much.
They are asking if it’s not better now. Yes and No, I want to cry out. They know nothing. How could they. Yes, it is better not to be reminded every single day. Yes, indeed. But what if it made me living an escape? I’m exaggerating, it’s not that bad. But you are further away then ever and I know that nothing will change about it.
That’s what they say. And this time I believe them. I live where the film is over and I have to keep on acting although the happy end never came. Is my everyday life a performance?
The hope that lingers? It’s for you to experience a happy end and that I did not drag you down into this hopelessness. I will free you. You do not have to share this prison. Go and do not believe all they tell you.
Complicated are our thoughts and feelings and lives on this earth. I am yearning for the time when they do not exist any more. When even you won’t be there in me any more. When all will be splendour, glory. The fulfilment per excellence. When I will have my home where my God is.

No comments:

Post a Comment