Life is too short for boring stories

I lay at the footbridge and looked into the stars and pretended as if that night. Sometimes I do this, pretend as if I just do not know what else to do, which would be helpful. In this case, I felt as if I was losing myself in the sight of the stars, but basically I was restless, even though I might feel relaxed. To do as if. Sometimes it is useful, also to give you the time until you find the right words. I waited for you, and beyond all. You were there. Restlessly you walked up and down the bridge. In between, you sat down for a moment, then jumped up again. I did not want to ask, since I knew, nor was it self-aware to you what was going on. Then the moment was the right one. You sat down next to me in my as if and drew a deep breath, as if the truth and the possibility of the right expression lay in the air, which is quite possible.

“Did you notice something?” you asked at last, and I detached myself from the as if and looked at you.
“What did you notice?”, I replied indecisively, because I did not know what you meant, whom you meant.
“About me. Did not you notice anything about me?” you asked at last, and the question was finally approaching a certain point, and ultimately it was a catch question. This could mean anything and nothing.
“You’re restless and nervous,” I replied, and thought it would be appropriate to say that restlessness and nervousness were always so terribly contagious and exhausting.

“Yes, that’s me,” she finally exclaimed, “But because I feel that you do not even look at me, that you do not perceive me, or else you would have had to say something long ago in the limits, whatever. “
“Of course I look at you and I feel good when you are there. You are, as always,” I replied truthfully, not just sensibly.” Your restlessness and nervousness, yes, that is not pleasant, but that you are there, that can also endure that.”
“Have you really not noticed?” you asked further, “I looked at myself this morning, in the mirror. And I noticed, in my face, that I am getting old. Somehow the years go by and dig deep into my face, and I’ve grown fat, and all you want to have not noticed? This can only mean that you do not look at me, that I am not available for you.” And there it was, the reproach, and it weighed heavy in my hand, so I wanted to get rid of it. It lay in my hand so that I could not reach it, and I wanted to reach out to you, and to take you back to me from afar.

“But I look at you, and I see that you are changing, both externally and internally, that you will be strengthened in what you are, and that the years will not pass unnoticed by you, like us all,” I said gently , “But above all I see you, which binds us, what I have received as you, and what I have learned to appreciate. You, that is, beyond all external change. It does not matter. Do not break my love and respect, for it does not change what you are, what you are to me. And so I perceive you, continuity within negligible changes. The way you like me, how you smile at me and make me feel like I’m alive, the way you show me that meeting can always be new, the way you are to me, that’s what I see and what is important to me , I see you as you are. I love you like you are.”


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