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13.12.2015

(a fragment)

So what if one just killed the love of one's life?

Is it even scientifically proven that it would have been possible to do such a thing? Can one be so wrapped up in one's own bubble not to notice that what one is doing is against any law of nature? How can one be so blind to consistently (more or less) keep on hurting oneself and the loved one? And then how is it possible that one gets rid of all the stomach-eating doubts once it's all over and way too late? One can now look back and take all the painful time to watch and observe all the beautiful moments full of love and one can also take the rest of the time to observe all the moments when one was step by step fucking it all up. Step by step.

And what now? One is broken and enlighted. One is pain with no deadline. One is love in the shadow of the loved one. One is no one. One is one.










And is it all because one had to shed the skin on one's own before one could grow one's own (skin) and realize that one lost one's love of one's life?        Really?



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