People keep asking me, whether I am back. Yes. I guess, I am back. Ok, that was a blatant lie. Nobody is aking me that. But I felt the drive of writing more again for a couple of weeks now. I miss it. I really do. I enjoy these nightly ramblings. My mind can drift into all sorts of weird spaces. Nobody there but me. Blissful silence. Solitude. Everything I need.
Life takes strange turns. I still don’t know where this journey will lead me. Perhaps in the middle of nowhere. At least I’m learning on a regular basis again, that seems to be progress. I can still feel the tension inside me. Every day. Again and again I wanted to reach for the knife. I didn’t. For some time now, excessive physical training has been my way out. Again. At least my body looks that way. You gotta look on the bright side and all that. It’s hard to control that anger. Like a wild animal it lurks inside of me, constantly waiting for the moment to come when its chains burst and it shreds everything around it. I hope it never happens. But can I guarantee that? I don’t know. I think I’m quite capable of being in control most of the time. But if the past has taught me anything, it’s that control is mostly an illusion. A very dangerous one. It lulls us into a safety that is never there. I wish it were otherwise, but that is the bitter reality I have to face. I avoid triggers as much as I can. I do not create new intense bonds, but establish familiar routines and move along well-known paths. I know only too well how quickly the downward spiral can be restarted. Down, down, down, straight to the bottom. A man falls and during the fall he keeps saying to himself “Up until this point it was all right, up until this point it was all right”.
Tragic irony. I crave intimacy, intellectually, emotionally and physically, but almost everything my fingers grasp crumbles to ashes shortly afterwards. If I were the character of a fictional story, my steps would wilt flowers and my hands would set whole forest fires. My breath was like a breeze of death that slowly covers the city like a threatening veil. Doomed to solitude. Theatrical instrumental. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, who knows. But the time I’ve been able to spend so far on this earth… was allowed… had to? It taught me that nothing lasts. That even the most important people eventually turn their backs on me, or vice versa. Because I can’t stand being around them anymore. For whatever fucked-up reasons. I keep wondering if other people have similar thoughts and how they deal with them. Why can’t I just see sunshine and butterflies everywhere? Is that really too much to ask? I enjoy the positive energy of other people.
It feels incredibly pleasant to be part of their charisma and even help to strengthen it. But I cannot find it for myself. When I look inside, all too often I see only a devouring emptiness. Coupled with emotional excess. Fantastic combination. I want to love as no one has ever loved before, but at the same time I’m afraid to. I want to experience, live through, savour the emotional excess. Survive. Lose myself and be absolutely free. But I know only too well that very few people can experience this frenzy and if they do, there is always the danger that something gets fucked up. But every day that sees me further trapped in apathy makes it clear to me how vital ecstasy is.
The emotional eruption, the complete excess is my elixir, which gives me new strength and allows me to feel that I am still alive. I love these moments of complete ecstasy, even if it becomes too much at some point. I am a junkie who is hooked on his own emotions.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Faster and faster. Live as you always wanted to live, love as you never dared to love. The abyss will always be waiting for you. It is eternal. It knows you’ll come back eventually. The gravity of life has brought every Icarus to the ground. The higher you fly, the tougher the landing.
But who cares if the moment counts? Why bother with impact when the next kiss seems like an eternity? The next night spent together like a labyrinth of endless paths waiting to be explored hand in hand? The next morning’s smile is so captivating that no thought is wasted of it ever being any different? Who thinks of the abyss in these moments?
I do. The abyss is a part of me. Every time I broke, it was there to pick up the pieces. Enveloping them in a blissful despair, and at some point, numb emptiness. It introduced me to the void, made it my eternal companion. A faithful friend who never left my side, no matter where I was.
I never was an Icarus. My wings burned before I learned to fly.