Out of all misery... - 2

Die schönsten Geschichten schreibt bekanntlich das Leben. Urlaub in Marokko. Ein Freund von mir hatte sich ein Auto geliehen und passte sich den ortsüblichen Verkehrsteilnehmern an ohne dabei auf Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzungen zu achten. Nach einigen Kilometern jedoch wurde er aus einem Pulk an Fahrzeugen von der Polizei rausgewunken und bekam mitgeteilt, dass er 300 Dirham wegen Überschreitung des erlaubten Tempos zu zahlen habe. Missmutig überreichte er das Geld, umgerechnet etwa 30 Euro.
Plötzlich fragte der Polizist unvermittelt: "Bayern München? "
Der Freund schüttelte energisch den Kopf: "Eintracht Frankfurt!"
Daraufhin gab der Polizist ihm die 300 Dirham zurück und ließ ihn weiterfahren. Die Eintracht war offenbar die richtige Währung.

Have you ever asked yourself why, after all, your system is still running? I always do that - watching House M.D.

I swear I can feel my blood running through my veins. And through my arteries, for that matter.
I can hear my heart beat. Much too fast.
I feel a little dizzy. No wonder!
I am definitely sure that I caught some nasty desease, something that cannot be cured, and it is not lupus.

What will I do, where will I find help, since there is no real House M.D.?

But in the other hand, would I really want to be his patient? The term's literal meaning is taking on a whole new dimension. And I am not the right person to cope with his kind of patience. I would rather die.

This is eventually going to happen.
Sooner or later.


© 2015
to dream

I wanted to stare at him. It was the first time we truly met. I wanted to stare at him, right into his face, as if it could tell me anything I wanted to know about him. But we are taught not to stare, so I didn't. Instead, we shared a few anecdotes, and a few laughes. Just, I didn't know were else to look but in his face, and that made me nervous.
She was nervous, too. Laughed and talked in a jittery way and spilled some of her coffee. What if we didn't get on? What if I didn't like him?
That was not my concern. I knew I would, if she did. I was afraid he might realise that stupid urge of mine to stare, hidden in tiny glimpses that took his face into focus, again and again. But that is definitely dangerous. Who stares cannot hide, and will truly be recognized. The eye sockets become open windows into any depths. If there are any, that is.
On the other hand, while he might find out everything about me, I was never going to learn more about him this way. Should I have asked him what kind of films he liked, what kind of books? Tell me what you read? Or maybe politics? Not a good idea, most of the time. What about a game? Should I have asked him to play with us? A perfect way to a person's true nature. Can he lose? Will he be fair?
Of course I didn't ask. And luckily it had not even occurred to me, then. As if those two had nothing else on their minds!
I was just sitting there, trying to be as easy going as possible, while not making a complete fool of myself. And maybe I managed. Because in the end, leaving, me saying bye-bye, and enjoy yourselves, and be good, and all this, he gave me first one of his transient, and then a more and more radiant smile, and so did she. She hugged and kissed me. Can't have been too bad, after all.
I guess he never realised the stare.

Have you ever experienced a moment where your brain gave orders your body would refuse to follow? Wait. It begins a long time before that.

I remember getting more and more astonished looks because I had started asking for, even demanding more definite decisions, and solutions, too. I could not bear it any longer that not even the simple things in life, the obvious ones, were to be ticked off and settled.

Then I just functioned for a while, out of habit I suppose, and it felt like diving without knowing when to be able to breath in again.
After a while I convinced myself, that nothing really mattered, and that especially I myself would not be able to make an impact, whatever I tried.
As soon as my brain had manifested that idea, there was an answer. So why do anything at all, my system replied. And it shut down.

The symptoms could only be physical, I thought, because I could hardly be a person for a psychological disorder. I am outspoken, energetic, humorous, and very emotional. Depression is an illness that obviously does not affect me. Since this is one of at least ten myths about mental health problems, I walked right into dyspnea, anxiety, and panic attacks. To me, they were nothing but the actual collapse of my organs.

When I really dealt with my problems, I had to learn and understand that it was a real illness after all I was facing, even if not physical, and that it was no use to get a grip, or a move on. I also realised that my condition was no one's fault, and that there was still a way to recover - if I found it. Talking about not being able to take pressure!

Despite all the terrors and fears, I had to find a meaning in life, so often talked and joked about, and so little understood. The ultimate question, and 42 will just not do, at all times.

We do have a few desperate options to cope with this question, such as religious faith, or drugs, or political extremism, which might be all the same thing, if you think it through to the end.

So in the end, there is one question you torture yourself with, constantly - and this is beyond, even despite having success, and love, and family and friends: "Is this all?"

So this is the truth, once and for all: We are lost. A vast universe, and all we really know is that we are lost. So therefore, all we really have in life is life itself, and if it is taken, than there is nothing.
This implies a massive responsibility for life, every life, and for ourselves.

We can only cope with life as long as we endure these facts. And we will have to do that in our own way.



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