Life is too short for boring stories

Your world and my world – like two circles that lie next to each other, maybe touch, but never find one another, never agree and above all never find understanding.

What can it trigger, one word, one word too many? How much damage can it do? And how quickly is discord sown between you and me? That one word too many sowed dissatisfaction in my heart, dissatisfaction and distrust. I couldn’t help it – and suddenly you were so far away from me with just one word. Yes, of course, I could have paused here, turned to you, approached you again, but I didn’t. More than that, I went even further.

“Why did you let me and my world arise when you keep me hidden with her? Am I no more than a little toy for you that you can use at will when you have everything else over? Is this place more for you than a refuge from the world, your world, when you need a break? What am I for you? What does this place mean for you? “, I let words emerge in my bitterness that I felt sorry for at the same moment.

The one, single word led too much, led to these many, many words too much, which nourished the seeds of dissatisfaction and mistrust, only allowed them to take root and drive out all the faster. I knew it was the wrong way, but it was just as if I were sitting in a wagon rolling down the rails, without a locomotive and without a brake, without a guide.

The word, once done and received, once spoken and heard, can no longer be withdrawn, no longer undone. I spoke and you heard, I did and you recorded. Yes, I had started and the gauntlet lay between us. Now it was up to you. Would you pick it up or leave it there? Would you respond to my turning away with turning away or would you pick me up in my turning away and make me accessible again?

“I admit it was probably nothing more, nothing more than a gimmick, nothing more than an amusing thought experiment. Because despite all the demands, despite all the things that had to be done, there, in my world, despite all that, or maybe because of it, I was bored. I wanted to get away, to break out, even if only for a short time. That is why I thought up your world in order to withdraw in it, to find peace, because this, your world, embodies everything that I miss in my world, that I have to miss because it doesn’t fit into my world. I don’t have to look at the clock here. I don’t have to do things all the time here. I never have to explain myself here. I can be here. I know that I am accepted here. I can get lost in it, and if I don’t do anything, just nothing, then it’s well done. It was like that at the beginning, but who knows what will develop from you at the beginning.” You tried to explain, and I wanted it to sound like a stolen justification, wanted to understand it that way. “And I’m nothing more than your stopgap.” And the wagon rolled on, unguided, unrestrained, towards the abyss.

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