Einhorn

Like every other story teller, I just fail to ignore the call of untold stories, so I narrate...

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Gary Schwarzinger

I am surviving. I wonder if it is just due to my instinct or because of my parents, but I am just survivng. I cook to make myself eat, I go to bed to make myself sleep, I get out to make myself smile. I am survivng, but I have not the slightest idea whatfor.
Everything just looks fine, just seems to be ok, life seems to be going on again, well "der Schein lügt". You can not be fine and well when there's nothing more left for you to live; when all which was valuable is gone with the wind, gone with the storm, with the hurricane, with the twister. Sometimes I just think about why I live, what do I seek in a world where there is no truth, where there are no promisses, where friends are not meant to "will be friends". In a world where you can suddenly be ...
I take regular showers, despite all the wounds and the bruises which hurt as if cutting through me. I am lost, cold and lonely. The more I socialize with people, the worse I miss her. I remember when I told her I had noone else but her, and she thought it was because I knew noone. Well she was wrong, way wrong. Now I understand how far she never knew all the way she told me she knew me too well. She still missunderstands my intentions,. I never mentioned it like this, maybe for she always broke the rules, for she never told what she was supposed to tell, she never let me know how she saw me.
That is true, I never really knew how she felt about me and how she saw me. A legend? A myth? A fairy tale? A short story? A thriller? A drama? A book to start to read and then to leave somewhere and never pick up again? A story for everyday of life? Or just another asshole?
Sometimes I believe to have figured out what has happened, which calms me down; I believe to know what is to do; I believe to have found out what we need. But then it all goes away and I am lost, cold and lonely; just left lost, cold, lonely and injured, deeply injured.
All the world seems to suddenly turn faster than ever, I feel dizzy, I feel confused, I feel down, I feel "the Pain": the pain of all pains, the pain which has no other source but pain, then pain which can only be caused and felt by humans.
The past month has changed me a lot, I am no more the same person as I was a few months ago. Now I am the old original Gary much more than I have ever been. I feel the challenge cutting through my head, I feel the pain penetrating through my bones, I feel violence sctratching on my skin, I feel the massacre of the centuries trying to cut my beating heart apart.
The worrier is there again.
Saturn, dear, I know you might need sometime with less me in your life, but the seperation is no good idea. I hear myself talking to her all day long. It is because of the nightmares, they have changed, but the same theme has been repeating everynight for some time now. After the other nightmare came out to be too close to the truth, I just can't ignore this one.
On one hand, I am trying to save myself (although I do not know why) and on the other I can't help being concerned about her. I keep listening to Richard Marx - maybe just because I am in no mood to change the cd in the player - and sometimes a song or a verse or some great part of the song suddenly seems to be lighting up, or it just seems to be telling my story.
Maybe we went on too fast, maybe we started something we were'nt ready to take, maybe we just needed much longer time, maybe we held on to it for too long, or too close or... I do not know, I just do not know what has happened to us, although I am trying to figure it out all the time.
I just wish I could tell her that I will always be there for her, that I beg her to come back to me as soon as she can afford it, as soon as it is no more painful to her.
I do have thousands of argument why it is not the way she wants to show it, why it is not what she thinks, and most of the arguments come from all what she has told me and has done during the past month, and the rest from all our time together. But, as she said too many times during this one month, the problem is that I know her, I know how she is when she does not want to listen to you. She would hear if you talk 40 hours nonstop, but she won't listen to a word of it, so she would not even know what you have talked about all along.
What am I to do? Will she ever be listening? How would it be in some time? Will she finally reason or will she be even less willing to listen?
I wish I could seek someone else's help, someone, who'd prefrably know and love her. But who cares about us now? Who would ever want to hear? Who does really know why we are meant to stay us?
Saturn, dear "hear me calling you!"

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