(note: people not having read this blog from the very beginning might want to read this entry first)
The world is frozen. Everything is trapped under this blue ice hard as stone. The glazed frost forces me to move faster than I want to. In my headphones I hear Peter Gabriel singing that life carries on and on and on. I’ve been trying to find someone to talk to, but they all have other fishes to fry.
That music depresses me even more than I already am. The winter has done its work, nature is dead. I grieve for you, you grieve for me. I should skip the track and listen to 24 by Jem. Same saddening text, but at least the melody’s more cheering up.
The wind is branding the falling star into my deadened skin. The snow is a knife chopping me up. The view of a bluish brown dead world cauterizes me. I’m sliding more than I’m walking. I’ve shut my mobile off and I’m desperately trying to hold those tears back. They have been picking my eyes for several minutes now. A few hundred meters and I’ll reach the lake. The place where I confessed you my love. I will be alone there. Far away from this selfish society. I will scream, cry, clamour, squall. And nobody will hear me. I will break down, collapse, come apart at the seams. And nobody will see me.
Peter Gabriel’s still grieving. The song has lasted five minutes now. Maybe I should fast forward.
I forgot my shawl at home. I have no force left to close my jacket. Minus five degrees and my body’s too nerveless to shiver.
The fragrance of chrysanthemum is nothing but a distant memory of a time when at least I could still imagine what hope might feel like. Quarter life crisis I called it when I tried to describe my mental state to some friend. He was right, it’s more of a midlife crisis. My life has shortened by half within a second. The second you left.
When does he finally stop grieving? Seven minutes now. My arm feels too feeble to take the player out of my pocket. My muscles are stunned.
The world didn’t stop turning. I don’t care this time. Why don’t I slip and fall? My body is giving up. My hope has been sucked out. My eyes see nothing more than a blurred vision of you. It all is nothing but a beautiful delusion. I can’t feel any relief. All those days we walked home together. Where have they gone? A span immeasurable to a human being separates us.
Where are you? You’ve been missing for months. The little girl went home and is growing up. I once wished for this. I hadn’t taken all the variables into consideration.
Finally. I have reached the lake. But you aren’t there. Peter Gabriel has found relief. Jem sings about flowers layed on the grave.
My thoughts are vacuousness. My body becomes complete inanition. My heart tries to escape into deadness.