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Life is too short for boring stories

I leave the bench behind me and follow the glittering blue that leads me to the bench on which you are sitting. My feelings are mixed. You seem absent, don’t pay any attention to me. I feel the desire to bring you here, to me, this desire automatically awakens, but at the last moment I take myself back. I don’t want to play any more games, no more dates, but certainly not those that you force on me. I haven’t noticed that for too long. It’s like dancing tango. You take a step towards me. I accept your approach, but if I now take a step towards you on my part, then you step back, exactly the step that I took towards you. I saw it as an invitation and went back to you. It went back and forth like that. In the beginning it was probably quite amusing. In the beginning it was really a game, but you kept it up in every situation. There was never any real closeness. But how much was I ready to overlook, at the beginning, because you dance with me and I thought it was life.

“Do you want to dance with me, dance through life, today and every day that may come, forever? Do you want with me?“, you asked me, and yes, you had said it with absolute clarity that you want to dance through life with me, that you thought you would keep this game, no more and no less than forever.
„Yes, I want to dance through life with you, I want to be with you, forever,“ I replied, because I believed that we were dancing, but also because I believed that I understood what forever means, as I – marked, branded by the prejudices and quick judgments of the youth – meant to understand a lot of what I know today that I do not understand, yes, understand less and less, the moment I sit down here with you on the bench , no longer ready to play your game. Never ready. One step forward, one back, always in time. Rock pace. Tango also knows each other. It was probably cha-cha-cha. Two children playing. But life is not game. I don’t want to play anymore. I’m tired of not only playing, no, especially of integrating the game into real life. What is right is to be with one another, to turn towards one another, sometimes also to turn away from one another, but not just one step, but as far as necessary, in order to be able to see each other again, to be able to see each other properly, to enable a real relationship to one another again.

So, I sit next to you without taking you out of your absence. Slowly you turn to me.
„Why don’t you get me?“, you ask, and it sounds like hurt and hurt vanity.
“Because I no longer play along. Because I don’t want to dance anymore. Or don’t just want to dance,“ I answer truthfully.
“But you promised it. Don’t you remember?“, you ask, and now you are really offended.
“Of course, I still remember. How could I no longer know? How could I forget the moment I made a mistake? It’s just that I’ve now discovered that life is more, more than just dance and play. Participation and truthfulness would make it, and not limit yourself to trying not to get out of step,“ I tell you, and you listen, maybe.
„So, your promise is worthless,“ you reply – and I know you didn’t understand it. Could you understand?
“My promise cannot be worth anything, any more than yours, because I cannot commit myself for the rest of my life. That is betrayal of me and you,“ I say accordingly.
“But my promise is true. You don’t understand me, but it doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t lose the beat,“ you say, and I leave the bench, follow the glitter and let you play your game, a game that is no longer mine, and actually never was mine.

Go to part 4 here

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