Give everyone a chance. Listen, just listen. Offer a hand, offer a heart, offer some time, open arms, a place to stay. Don’t close the door. Give space, give room and don’t give up on others, it won’t make you happy, it won’t make them happy, but maybe sometimes it needs help. It depends, everyone is different. I can’t tell you what to do, just what I tell myself.
How I was when I was little. My goal is to get it back, what I lost.
Well, I don’t know whether you are just here for the words, here for the random factor or because you are really experiencing similar things.
Maybe a little bit of all of it. I just hope it has some value for you because if not then why are you here?
I am just writing because I have to, I want to, it just comes out now.
Still I think, maybe I should stop posting at all because it all might be wrong. I know it isn’t I know it has value, at least for me, but then I don’t know whether I am alone with it. Even if not, would I really be a part of it?
In some way I am the writer, in some way I am the reader, in some way I listening, watching and doing it all together, but then I also feel, as if I am just another of these bots, doing things, for the sake of doing. If it is more than just random things for you, thank you and you are welcome. If not, I of course still appreciate your presence, everyone who reads is welcome, everyone who listens too. It is just that I don’t know, how much longer I can take my broken life. It is so strange with all these things now that I really feel like in a movie and it is a good movie, but then I think, I am probably one of the bad characters in the end, which people will hate. Who knows. I hope I am the good one, but I can never really be sure, when I am down.
You don’t have to understand the words, when you listen with your heart.
And sometimes you don’t know anymore what is real and what is not.
But it doesn’t matter to me that much anymore because these days, everyone is going crazy, I guess. And if not, they are either very good hearted people or ignorant. In the end just human after all, while being truly human actually means being good, kind and wise.
But do we see this? Most of the time we see ignorance, we see strange behaviour, we see broken systems, broken people and a weird cycle of life.
Many see being human as being messed up because human history was messed up, so humans are just messed up beings. But what if the actual challenge was to be who we were before we got born? Then many would have failed after all. But not meaning, it was their last and only chance. Who knows… I really can only say, that I sure know nothing for sure, know nothing at all because only while connected to everything, I know things for sure in some way, while they still aren’t really mine. Only a part of it, so that I can understand it with my little brain.
One way to see the world – One view and fraction
If what other people call to be wrong, is wrong for them and everyone else, except for you, how should you know? You could also be just wrong.
Therefor I might be wrong about everything, I could also just be right about everything (what is not true when it comes to details), how should I know, how should you know?
My view of the world is a beautiful view, while at the same time it is very dark. It is like an image with several layers. One is a black and white painting, on the white side is a garden and on the black side is a factory.
Then there is a river connecting both sides with gray water, while dead wish and me are getting washed away into the garden. But then the garden gets gray as well, slowly but growing faster until the trees get dry, the flowers die and the green grass is more like a dusty desert.
Until water falls down from the air again, black water, to first seem like hope after a devistating nuclear explosion, only to kill you from the inside out, yet again.
But then you see the factory now more, the buildings are gone, you see the water first getting red, then black, then all is gone.
The river is empty, dead fish, dead bodies on the ground.
And you are in the middle, still breathing, still suffering.
Then there is water falling down again, fresh water, clean water.
At first it gets gray when it hits the ground, but after some time it starts to wash away all the dust, the dirt, the blood and blackness. After some time it stays blue, stays clear and the bodies are gone. After a while you can drink, can smell it. Then the sun comes out again, some birds start singing and the trees get green leaves again.
Then you realize, it was a dream, while your legs are missing, the world is burning and it all was just a fiver dream. You survived the second world war, but now you will die from cancer.
You survied the cruel world, only to die because you wanted water and got black water. You survived to die anyways. Was it for you, was it for me, was it for someone else?
Then you see a person next to your bed. With tears and a smile.
Now you know, it was for this one.
And then you think, why does it have to always end like this?
Maybe there is another one like you, maybe another who didn’t die in the end. But they say there is no chance to survive for you. Are they right, do they know? Maybe they just think because what they know tells them that you can’t survive, while you know you can. But do you want?