MISSING YOU

How can two people be part of the same world if there is someone always on the missing side? Is it the illusion our soul is trying to crave for romance? To miss somebody leaves one of those empty feelings inside of us we can only understand if the other part is with us again, maybe promising she’ll remember to be yours. Sometimes I wonder if the feeling of missing somebody is nothing but the fear of a sort of imperfection of not being enough. Actually we want to leave just to avoid the steady crossing mind – but we cant!

Is it about the old times, the new times or simply tears? I don’t like to say do not cry since not every tear seems to be a scourge.

But what if we begin to understand that at some point we aren’t able to look back. Can time heal everything or must we accept that some pain is that profound it may embrace us forever? Is this the fortress of our life we must deal with or should we try to escape once again in search for the expected better one, who maybe never will come along? Possibly we sometimes forget how it feels to be alive and try to make it up for missing you. Somehow missing means nothing but the chosen one is not only a star, but the damn whole sky to ourselves – the one who might be able to change a life by making the one place of being together the place one would rather be.

I would like to quote not one of the famous authors the literal world has seen but one of my most heartily friends by saying that missing is the wish of wanting to put the others dreams in the ones eyes. But what if the other looked into my eyes, saw my heart shatter but hers didn’t? Dreams are illusions but pain is having presence in mind. Somehow we must fight bitterly to protect the roots of our leaves.

Cheers

Lorax

LOST WORDS

Do we lose some words over a certain period of time? All those simple phrases like humanity’s most famous one I love you and are we actually able to find them again by letting a bolt of bravery release them from the deepest of our hearts? Isn’t it about words coming along with us even the longest road in life expressing that, what we want and what we should – and our souls in a steady conflict with our rationality because of the one person we literally are not? Words we lived and maybe will, waiting for all those gorgeous days.

In the end lost is lost or should we get an exalted understanding of losing things, paraphrasing it with hidden? The ludicrous character of losing our words is that we actually lose ourselves. One metaphoric lost star, still in that ridiculous belief being one of a kind between a million but never even able to shine brighter then the rest.

And time runs.

So what should we search for among this mega-lie of free men who are nothing but slaves of their own profit? Love? Dreams? Luck? Maybe we shouldn’t forget that losing a part of us means a piece of ourselves is gone and instead of searching ideals of romantic imagination we might be better off getting our fucked up soul back together by facing our struggles. So why not starting to care about things again instead of standing the curios but somehow fashionable idea of giving a shit? What we mustn’t forget is that you don’t love someone for their looks, or their cloths or for their fancy cars, but because they sing a song only you can hear – so our old friend Oscar.

What he doesn’t say is who sings this song. Maybe someone, maybe ourselves or maybe the certain sunrise giving us every new day the chance to find out exactly that: Who are we? So why not loving a bit more in hope for better times - they won't be perfect, but pure.

Cheers

Lorax

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?

Hello solitude – how about passing our evening together? Just the two us? I remember a time, when being all for myself aroused more mixed feelings inside of me. But was or still isn’t a certain feeling of loneliness betweenwhiles hustling self-reflection along? We are constantly living in a world of permanent communication and exchange of opinions, in which the examination of the very self becomes obviously less important. The steady running after some social attachments detains us from admitting a certain access to our heartstrings. But what is this angst we are afraid of, the moment we are alone?

I feel lonely in a variety of regards, though I love staying in pleasant company talking for hours. Often I can’t even explain why the feeling of solitude suddenly appears. What I know is, that feeling sole inspires me in a weird but very personal way. Maybe it’s just another creation the so-called neurosis I am this adversely affected by provokes, but I still have the sensation that I find a very close and profound way to myself in moments of loneliness.

In the early evening, shortly after closing time I was walking through the city together with the last shopping remains, when I apparently felt all alone inside the life of a whole town – among a million people. I asked myself how many of my attendants through the dawn might feel like I am doing and if they are, can they actually examine it? I may represent the thesis that desolated people might feel alone in any kind of situation often camouflaged by high spirits even on a wild Saturday night. Do we have to stand-alone from time to time in order to prove that we can still stand? What would we do without solitude? Could we even endure our lives without the ability of being for ourselves, when it comes to the point?

After an extended after-work-cocktail-hour I began thinking about solitude among relationships. Essentially any kind of relation it does not matter if old or new brings us somewhere, but what is it about the relation to ourselves – isn’t it highly challenging and more exciting to get over with ourselves and is the handling with the own you a further consequence of a certain loneliness? Am I happy with my personal solitude? I would say I am, as solitude is nothing sad or depressing for my understanding, but furthermore an invisible connection I have with many fellow men, which may see it as an attitude to life, too. Maybe it is again a factor of maturity to appreciate this sort of living even more, as we will understand how important it will ever stay to be clear about our own personality, in order to lead a good life and to maintain regardful relations. Rainer Maria Rilke found some very congenial words to this context: I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each one protects the solitude of the other.

I don’t know if the subject of solitude is a real lifetime choice, temporariness or more a consequence of actions we gain through our acting in life, but what would I do without it?

Maybe simply live on.

Cheers

Lorax