Dear Teen Me,
I know, life sucks these times and you‘re sitting, waiting, wishing for better days. I know, what makes you happy and keep on going, is picturing yourself in your mid 20s: Independent and having great hair and a perfect body.
Honey, age won‘t change anything. Shifts of dependency will always make you think, you‘re not Independent. And you will always struggle with your body no matter how much weight you‘ll loose, because it is your head that weighs way too much. Your hair will always be anything but straight and it will always be difficult to „totally get“ your curls. „Dear Teen Me“ weiterlesen
I will never forget how we’ve met. I was sitting in a Hotel room in Istanbul. Thinking about the past months, my life and too much other serious stuff. I felt alone and was incredible sad. Sad and disappointed. For some reason I did not even try to change my mood. I felt like, I had to be right there, in this lonely Hotel Room in Istanbul, all by myself, having all those uncomfortable feelings. I did not pity myself. Not at all. I was accepting my situation. Accepting all those emotions. Accepting me being alone. Maybe because of you. I was waiting for you. Hoping you would change my life for the better. Accompanied with hope, you came to me in the loneliest hour of the year. Accompanied with more loneliness than before, you leave me now. How could we end up like this? I wanted to build a future on the ruins of my past but I feel like having built a castle of disappointment instead. And you’re watching me, wandering through the empty halls of my Kingdom. What has happened? Our first encounter was full of dreams. You and me. We ought to be something big. So big. Maybe I am the one to blame. Maybe I wanted too much. Maybe.
I am glad this is over – I am glad YOU are over. And no, I do not feel sorry at all saying this. I really do not want to stay longer here with you. I cannot stand this anymore. It is time. We both know. Time to leave. Time to start something new. Time to accept, it is over. Time to say Good-Bye. So I do: Good-bye 2016. Good-bye.
I don’t know why but sometimes I speak and think in English. It feels like discussing something in a different language makes me understand things better – maybe because I have to stop every – let’s say – third word and wonder whether the word fits or not. I cannot use the same metaphors. I cannot just translate everything word by word. It feels like changing the perspective by switching the language makes me change my relation to the object discussed. Even though I sometimes just want to write everything down – as fast as I can, just to make sure not to forget anything, I force myself to change the language. I force my brain to slow down. I force my fingers to chill and to wait for right signals. I force my heart to relax. My lunges to slow down. My mind to be patient. I force myself to breathe. Just breathe. In and out. To take a moment to understand what is going on. And then I speak or think English; imagine I am abroad and meet someone who cannot speak German so that we have to use the English language to communicate. And then I imagine that this someone is someone I want to share my thoughts with. I imagine I want to prove that I do understand life. That I do understand my inner world. That I do see things a lot of people can’t. And how could this someone believe me if I spoke very bad English, used very bad metaphors.. and how could this someone understand what I am saying, if I didn’t understand the words I was using. How could this someone trust my words if I could not trust them? How could I communicate with this someone if the communication with myself did not work?
So I am speaking and thinking in English. Realizing that a lot of my fears are so unnecessary. Wondering how this feeling could distract me that hard. Accepting that I sometimes use too many letters for a one-word-feeling, just because…. Yes, let’s be honest… just because I can. Just because I feel like mastering my inner world by creating impressive metaphors. Just because I feel like going so deep, and do not realize that I am actually drowning – not in a sea of deep emotions, more a puddle of big words.
Being arrogant sucks.
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