Bubbles

I’m sitting in the bath tub and feel like I have to cry, but I can’t, the ugly feet puncture the surface with it’s eyes on the other side, scowl at me and make me realize its crocodile tears that fill my eyes. Anyway, it’s no use crying since there is nobody here who can feel sorry for me, so I swallow the pain like I always do. I’m a miserable person, I feel like sinking, but it’s probably not deep enough. Besides I could never live without knowing what people say about me afterwards, unfree as I am. Despite all that I’m free in a way most people don’t understand. I’m free in the rooms that are already crushed, where the vandals are finished, and they are not coming back, unless I’m so stupid that I restore with new wallpaper and these things. It’s always like that; it’s a kind of secure. At suitable intervals, I open a new door and let them in. There are a lot of thoughts you can think when you are far from shore and don’t have the chance to make some stress, and I think I should be crazier, maybe far, far out, living in my own world, never think of what others believe or what I believe for the matter of that. That would be relieving, I could create something important, I could actually create something, without bonds, without regret, without fear, without anger, without pain. Maybe something beautiful one day.

It is often said that time heal all the wounds, but that is a little bit exaggerated. Time takes too much time. There are faster solutions, and I tried some of them with varying results, but you have to do something to get somewhere. Too often I did nothing to get nowhere. To throw the garbage in the cellar is a well known and effective method I managed with for years. It gave me a lot of spare time, which I used for positive things, like daydreaming. Sometimes, of course the door rips open at an improper time, and lets out the stench, unpleasant for those who are hanging over me bothering. But I have a spray, a scent that can convince almost everybody, laughter I think it’s named.

Another technique I know very well is something that is compared with being filled by the Spirit. It doesn’t really help much, but it becomes a little bit more pleasant to suffer, for a while. But the pleasant and the senseless is also a bad taste in the mouth of they who still believe I have a future here among the living. It’s amazing how kind and optimistic some people are. But they are right. With my history I should be more careful. I’m saying loud to my self that I’m doing ok and I shiver, because I have disappointed many. The fear pays me a visit again, but I’m not afraid of it, I’m foolhardy and mock it.

Thinking didn’t make me happy this time either, but luckily the water has become cold and I can reach for the shore and continue my life. I’m freezing in my spirit, body and soul, while I’m gazing at the bubbles that whirl merciless into the unknown. I pray to Him who knows where everything ends and whisper; help me God, because that’s the only thing that helps, I believe.

I’m so extremely positive