Spring of Life – Part II

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Procrastination: Being trapped in a dream world that prevents us from living our dreams on the real one. My life so far was a steady monochord rhythm, two chords repeating day and night. I always thinking how the song would continue. As I turned my face to look at her on that spring afternoon, I heard the strings breaking.
No more music. No more nothing. My body went completely numb.  Continue reading “Spring of Life – Part II”

Spring of life – Part I

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I traded seagulls for ravens. On my backpack I had three days worth of clothes, and a toothbrush. On my heart I had a lifetime worth of dreams. I waited too long for this, and I wonder why… I don’t want to think that I was too long trapped in my fears, in my anxiety, such a cliché, right? I mean, being so aware of the cockroaches on my head I should have known better, shouldn’t I?

Continue reading “Spring of life – Part I”

Spilled wine

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How many of my thoughts are just spilled wine? Promises of a future that became stains. They will always be there for me to remember who I was and the life I aspired. They come from a time where I used to think how much I had already accomplished. My young mind was impossible to break down, happiness was always present due to the promise of time. I looked to days to come like constellations high above in the night sky. What is there to find out? How long would it take me to get there? How small was I compared to them, how big can I grow? Continue reading “Spilled wine”

I’m naive and I’m fine with it.

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I’m naive. Very much. I didn’t notice that before, because I could blame it on my age. There it was still justified. Childlike carelessness. “Yes well, she’s still 17, she’s still learning that,” they said at the time. Meanwhile I’m 27 and it hasn’t got any better. Their head shaking. Always the same. And then there’s this slightly suggested smile and this: “Sweet.”
Continue reading “I’m naive and I’m fine with it.”

Ich bin naiv und das ist gut so

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“Bei dem Wort Liebe fangen meine Augen an zu glühen.”

Ich bin naiv. Sogar sehr. Früher ist das nicht so aufgefallen, da konnte ich das noch auf mein Alter schieben. Da war es noch gerechtfertigt. Kindlicher Leichtsinn halt. „Ja gut, sie ist ja noch 17, sie lernt das schon noch“, haben sie damals gesagt. Mittlerweile bin ich 27 und es ist kein Stück besser geworden. Dieses Kopfschütteln. Immer dasselbe. Und dazu noch dieses leicht angedeutete Lächeln und dieses: „Süß.“ Continue reading “Ich bin naiv und das ist gut so”

The Big Drop

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There I was. Hoping and hopping. Eager to get something I don’t want. Apply. Put on your mask and smile. Study your cliché list, memorize it, some jokes maybe? No, too much. Who has time to laugh? Put your head down and let them absorb you. Feel the anxiety mixed with a monochord vomiting of words. Don’t fall asleep, soldier!
Your mamma is counting on you. You are getting to old to eat at her table. Aren’t you tired of being left out?

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Der Zauberer – Teil I

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Juli Morgen. Noch hat die Sonne nicht angefangen auf den Bürgersteig zu brennen, die erste Brise ist aber schon recht warm. Die ersten Cafés öffnen und ich rieche an dem frisch gebackenem Brot. Der Himmel ist noch orange. Ich nehme meine Sonnenbrille ab, um in die Sonne zu schauen. “Solch eine Magie” – denke ich. Continue reading “Der Zauberer – Teil I”

In the middle of nowhere – Warum sind wir so lost?

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„Ich weiß noch nicht, was ich machen möchte.“ Das ist einer der häufigsten Sätze, die ich in Berlin höre, wenn es um Partnerschaften, den Beruf oder ums Leben geht. „Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir gucken, wohin es läuft, was sich ergibt. Schauen wir mal.“ Das klingt plausibel: Dinge geschehen und auf sich zukommen zu lassen. So leicht und einfach. Aber wer trifft denn dann eine Entscheidung?

From the fairy tale of fear

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She can’t breathe. Crawling to get some air. A rope is wrapped around her throat. She’s trying to break from it. With every breath she feels the narrowness. The pulse stops as the rope tightens. Millions of insects crawling and spreading all over her body. As he slowly strokes her shoulder, each of her limbs shrugs.

Continue reading “From the fairy tale of fear”