“All I can do now is beg. You wouldn’t resonate with me calling you a friend, or feeling connected to you. I can no longer say: -a friend-, because immediately the black feeling of falsehood rises in my chest like nausea; as if nausea had come from my own words, I have to choke them off and spit them out like a false note. The only thing that still feels right is to say that I beg you. This is the position I’m in. You have become a stranger. If you saw me again, there would not be a look of recognition in your eyes, but only a disparaging look at something put away or given away that you regret having possessed.”
“Oh that old dresser. I’m glad I got rid of it.”
“I can only hold you up now in my own imagination and have an internal exchange with you. You’re like a building block or a puzzle whose pieces you try to fit together in the right combination.”
One feels like an outcast from society when one sees beauty in this occupation, because most people find such a way of dealing with a loss nonsensical and pathological. Sensibility is often lost, because an object is only a reflection of a person.
Die Zeit hat gezeigt, dass die Situation sich nicht ändert und dies geht einher damit, dass man seinen Glauben verliert. Aufgrund der übersteigerten Form der Verehrung die man dem geliebten Subjekt entgegengebracht hat, fühlt es sich so an, als würde man seine Religion verlieren. Denn man wird von derjenigen Person ausgeschlossen, deren Fan oder wohlmeinender Freund oder Helfer man immer war oder sein wollte. Aber die Liebe strahlt als Heiligtum in einer verklärten Form, die einen verstaubten Glanz annimmt wie eine Ikone oder ein Erinnerungsstück.
Clear a breach
In hopelessness one can also feel free again and new forces work against the fate of exclusion. The forces emanate in a physical way like clenched fists and hard training. And yet there is also a certain denial here, as one does not necessarily acknowledge failure, but rather settles into it in order to preserve an idol in some way. It is a two-part situation like a twin. One is wounded and needy and yet also free and all-encompassing in his work. One suddenly understands in an obscure way that self-love and love for the beloved subject are both of a similar nature and that one cannot stop loving even when the beloved subject is absent. For one is still there and one understands that one must not give up on oneself and should pay more attention to oneself. In a certain way one also fights against oneself and one’s ego.
We are a yes and no
“We are both the same, your heart and my heart. To love myself is to love you. If I give up loving you, then I can’t love myself either.”
The paradoxical nature of the separation manifests itself as a temporal mantra. Every day you get up and it’s Groundhog Day. Every day paradoxical, every day yes and no. Memory of a girl picking apart a daisy: “He loves me, he loves me not …” Time loses the role in this. It’s as if the girl keeps pronouncing both variants of the ending (he loves me, he loves me not) at the same time, together with the tearing apart of the last flower. An original anchoring that spans a story into the individuation: “She was with me before I met her in real life. She was in my dreams, she was in my longing. So she can’t be gone now because she was with me before.”
Note: Music is free and the assignments made here are for entertainment purposes only and can never restrict a song to only these aspects.