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Life is too short for boring stories

Nyx sits on her dock at the lake just outside the castle, into which she retired long ago and thinks. Her long black hair flaps gently in the wind. The air is lukewarm and cuddly. But she does not notice it, for she is sunk in these thoughts, into something she does not understand. She is looking for and searching for something she has forgotten or a mistake she has made. For it belongs to the people, who basically assume that they have committed the mistake, and not the others, anyone. And if it was the other one, she just did not stop them. Everything had started so wonderfully. Nyx had done nothing but tell a story, a story about longing and love. A comment had been made on posting. She was delighted, for this commentary was a part of her story, she continued, and ended with the words:

„You looked into my soul and told our story.“

Yes, she had told a story which she could call „ours,“ but that was one between her and a confidant, which she did not mention by name. But perhaps the commentator thought his story, which he called „ours,“ his own story, which he resumed in her. That came about, because stories about longing and love are similar in so many ways. That’s exactly what it had to be. Nyx chose this possibility of interpretation and responded accordingly, because she did not know him.

„I am very glad that you find yourself in it.“

Nyx was satisfied, for she was convinced that she had understood it correctly, but this self-satisfaction over understanding did not last long, only until the next comment.

„Of course I find myself in it again, you stupid, for it is our history, yours and mine. You can always hide behind what pseudonym, I will always recognize you, because your story is unique. “

Nyx was shocked. What had happened? What had she done? No, it could only be a confusion, but it sounded so convincing. Maybe it was true that there was someone out there who was like her, but so much. Still, she tried again, but she did not want to raise any false hopes.

„I’m not the one you’re holding me for. I am sorry.“

The misunderstanding would have to be finally out of the world, she thought at the very least, but he still put one on it.

„The heart is not mistaken. It is clear to me why you are hiding, for you are afraid of our enemies, who pursue us from the beginning, and you fear them because you are afraid of me. But you do not have to worry. I have defeated them all, and I can now make their way to you undisturbed. At first, I thought you did not love me until I realized that you were doing all these precautions only for my sake, but everything is settled, for I have much more powerful friends than I have enemies. So do not worry, and come to the place where we met for the first time, there at the water in our city, which we have now recovered. You, my dearest, have done everything for me. Now I’ll be there for you. “

And now she sits at the footbridge and does not know any more. It is as if she had broken into a strange world, into a strange coexistence, or, rather, has been broken in, and now she finds no way out. Why is it so hard to understand? But then she writes the only thing she can write:

„I’m not her. I wish you’d find her, but I’m not. “

This would finally make everything clear, all misunderstandings finally eliminated, thinks Nyx, as she gets up to go to bed.

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