Nothing – part 1


Isn’t it like your eyes get used to the darkness?
Well, right now, in this moment that lasts countless times, I cannot confirm that.All I see is black. „Am I still alive?“ I ask myself.
There’s no sound, that could reach my ears. Nothing. Literally, you could hear a pin falling. Every breeze you could feel if there was any. Absolute silence, darkness. I wouldn’t call this pure bleakness. Rather, I would say, it’s a perfect nothing. Besides my memories, there’s nothing and even that is just finding its way to me like drippy rain.

A Thousand tries I’ve tried to move. My body, if still alive, doesn’t obey. My limbs I cannot feel. Maybe I was buried alive? The definition of „alive“ seems complicated in the “here and now”. Did I just end being? All of a sudden, without any warning.
I wasn’t sick, wasn’t I? My memory is just coming back in tiny fractions.
No, I wasn’t sick but am I right now?
An accident, maybe? No, but I wasn’t sure about that.
Did I ever exist at all? Yes, I did even live. Happily.
Is this my end? Maybe. Maybe I missed the end just as the beginning.

As for all efforts, I put in since being in this state, there’s one I never risked: Breathing.
It never came to my mind, to give it a try and just take a deep breath.
To hope my lungs would fill with oxygen, making magic happen and end this
miserable state for a new beginning. What could I possibly lose? Besides this nothing, I was floating in.

Would the realization that there are no more breaths for me, make me sad? Feeling sadder than right now wouldn’t be possible anyway.
I needed to give it a try. Take the risk.
More tiny fractures were forming in my memory.
I felt like I tasted salt on my tongue.
Was this my brain, playing me to relieve the ultimate goodbye? I feel the wind, not a soft breeze but a powerful storm.
It feels just like the storm was throwing sharp shivers, they cut my face.
The whistle of the storm, rushing through my ears. I want to cover them, my limbs don’t obey.
They refuse to serve me still. The memory is fading. Taken away by the storm.
Not little by little but with one giant blow. It’s gone. All that remains is darkness and torturing silence. I need to breathe if I can.
How many days and hours I did hesitate, is impossible to tell.
The theory of time, no longer entangled with me. Not reachable.
Now as I am ready, I ask myself if you could ever forget how to breathe.
You’ve waited too long, missed your chance?
All power I can raise, I need to combine. There’s just no other way and so I say to myself: “Breathe, start breathing now!”

Then a whiz.
What now?


Nichts – Teil 1

Unsere Augen gewöhnen sich an die Dunkelheit. Ich jedenfalls kann das gerade in diesem Moment, der schon unzählige Momente andauert, nicht bestätigen.
Alles, was ich sehe, ist schwarz. „Bin ich noch am Leben?“ frage ich mich.
Dort ist kein Geräusch, das an meine Ohren dringen könnte. Nichts. Man könnte sprichwörtlich eine Stecknadel fallen hören. Jeden Luftzug könnte man spüren, wenn dort einer wäre. Absolute Stille, Dunkelheit. Trostlosigkeit würde ich es nicht nennen. Es ist ein perfektes Nichts.
Außer meiner Erinnerung gibt es nichts, und auch jene findet nur tröpfelnd – wie sanfter Regen – den Weg zu mir.
Tausende Versuche habe ich unternommen, mich zu bewegen. Mein Körper – sofern dieser noch am Leben ist – gehorcht mir nicht. Meine Glieder – ich kann sie nicht spüren.
Vielleicht wurde ich lebendig begraben? Die Definition von „lebendig“ erscheint mir kompliziert.
Hörte ich einfach auf, zu sein? Schlagartig, ohne jede Vorwarnung?
Ich war doch nicht krank? Meine Erinnerung kommt in winzigen Bruchteilen zurück.
Nein, krank war ich nicht. Doch bin ich es jetzt?
Ein Unfall vielleicht? Nein, aber sicher bin ich nicht.
Habe ich jemals existiert? Ja, ich habe sogar gelebt. Glücklich.
Ist das mein Ende? Vielleicht. Vielleicht habe ich das Ende auch verpasst. So wie den Anfang.

Bei allen Versuchen, die ich unternommen habe, seitdem ich mich in diesem Zustand befinde, gab es einen, den ich nicht gewagt habe: Atmen.
Es kam mir nicht einmal in den Sinn, einen Atemzug zu versuchen. Zu hoffen, meine Lungen würden sich mit Sauerstoff füllen, diesem Dasein ein Ende setzen oder einen neuen Anfang.
Was hatte ich zu verlieren? Außer dem Nichts, in dem ich schwebte.

Würde die Realisation, dass es für mich keinen weiteren Atemzug gibt, mich traurig machen? Trauriger als jetzt könnte ich doch wahrhaftig nicht sein.
Ich musste es wagen. Weitere Bruchstücke fügten sich meiner Erinnerung hinzu.
Es war mir, als schmeckte ich Salz auf meiner Zunge.
Ist es mein Gehirn, das mir nun Empfindungen vorgaukelt, um mir den Abschied zu erleichtern?
Wind kann ich spüren. Keine leichte Brise, es ist ein gewaltiger Sturm.
Es fühlt sich an, als schleuderte der Sturm scharfe Splitter; sie schneiden in mein Gesicht.
Das Pfeifen des Windes, es saust durch meine Ohren. Ich möchte sie zuhalten, meine Glieder, sie verweigern mir weiter ihren Dienst. Die Erinnerung, sie verschwimmt. Vom Sturm fortgetragen, nicht allmählich, sondern mit einem einzigen Windstoß. Fort ist sie. Was bleibt, ist Dunkelheit und quälende Stille.

Ich muss atmen. Falls ich kann.
Wie viele Tage und Stunden ich gehadert habe, kann ich nicht sagen.
Das Gefüge Zeit, nicht mehr mit mir verwoben. Nicht greifbar.
Nun, da ich bereit bin, frage ich mich, ob man jemals vergessen kann, wie man atmet.
Zu lange gegrübelt, Chance verpasst?
Alle Kraft, die ich aufbringen kann, muss ich nun bündeln, ich weiß keinen anderen Weg, deshalb spreche ich in Gedanken: „Atme, nun atme schon!“

Dann ein Zischen.
Was nun?

Been lucky?

As multi functional as the definition of „luck “, as big the range of ways to find it.
Maybe it’s waiting for you, at the end of the way. Watch out. Look around.
Possibly, it’s right around the corner. Just in that place, where you wouldn’t have expected it to be.
Watch out!

There’s so much you can do, to find luck. Don’t just follow the route, go other ways, too. Range the woods wade through waters and high grass. Be ready, to find you luck. What is it you are looking for? Are you aware of what you are searching? Don’t give up.

Are you witnessing when others are happy? Is it the same thing, you are looking for?
They’re smiling, having a good time. It seems whatever they were looking for, they got it.
Do you ask yourself, why you’re still in search of it?
Have you just not been lucky?

Maybe you’ve had luck in your hands, but dropped it?
Just left it there, near the path. Halfway to your big dream.
I wish you could keep that little piece of luck.
Not just obsessively pursuing the ultimate.
That you can hold this small piece of luck in your hands, unforgotten your big goal,
but able to reward this little breeze of luck.
Don’t just get lucky, get ready to feel fortunate, too.

The watch

„Don’t turn around“, you say to me. Pulling me closer to you.
“Where should I look, but at you?“, I ask.
I don’t say more about what I’m thinking, you know, we both know.

Time is speeding, the time in which it’s just us two. Nobody else.  The cursor of this watch is beside your eyes, all I see.
Cruelly, it’s moving forward, there’s no sound.

Laying my head on your shoulder,
I breathe in all your heat.
Fighting against the urge, to look at the cursor. Again.
As brutal as it’s moving, intensive pain in my chest.
My throat is closing up, even tighter.
I wonder how I’m still able to sit up but
I know, it’s you who’s holding me up.  Guilt is rising inside of me, shouldn’t it be me,
who’s holding you?

Our time is running, too fast it’s running from us.
All towards the moment, when they will come,
to give us a few minutes. Minutes!
My hands are shaking, I don’t know how to control myself, up from here.
I want to scream, but remain silent.
“I love you”, is all I have to say.
I want to cry, but I know that will hurt you more.
“I love you”, tears are running down my cheeks.
Unable to stop them.

You hold me up so I can stand.
Without you, I cannot stand straight.
But I must.
Until our time stands still.
I can.
Until this watch doesn’t tick any longer, silently.
I want.
I want our eternity.

Until this damn clock is shot down for all time.

How strong are you?

I could never do that, I’m too weak for that.
Too heavy the load, too high the price.
No, I could never do that,
so, I’d rather not try.

The way is too far, I would need a lifetime,
to get there. I would rather not try.
Why give what is already forgiven.
Too far in the distance lies the goal,
so it is no longer mine.

I love you, but I cannot stand it anymore.
Too much is too much, with all love,
it cannot go on like that.
Truly my love, but the way too troublesome,
my strength is not enough.

I cannot get up again,
Unable to look the shame in the face,
I have fallen and remain.
The fall too hard, the disappointment too great.
Too hard the strike knocked out.

Do you know how strong you are?
Pick it up, the load, hold it, you can do it.
Go further, look at the goal that is so far away.
Love more, evermore. Do not let the love go.
Get up, that was not a „knockout“, go on!

No one knows how far his strengths go until he has tried them.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe-

Of monsters and demons

„Mom, leave the door open“, Tom whispered when it was time to sleep. The light blinded him, but he felt safer when he knew it was there. As long as it was visible, nothing could happen to him. The monsters under his bed and in his closet, which they had searched and not found, like every night before going to sleep, could not harm him. Mom always said, „The monsters only exist in your imagination, Tommy, they’re not real,“ he knew she meant well but she was wrong. He was quite sure about that. He had seen them approaching him. Their grimaces pressed close to his pillow, laughing maliciously. What the monsters wanted, Tom did not know. They had never hurt him. Were they just pleased to scare him? For many nights and days, he thought about it. Did they come to explore the area and strike when the time was right? Did the mean beasts simply enjoy chasing children with a cold shiver?
Maybe they were having fun laughing about it, together with their monster friends.

The older Tom became, the fewer the monsters appeared. Night after night it was less until only a shadow was left. He stared at the ceiling when he did that long enough, he could see him. He shifted his head and looked closely at the shadow. He then became more menacing, as if he was coming down on him. After a few minutes, he had disappeared again. Until the day came when he never appeared again.

Tom was laying on his sofa as he awoke. The TV was still running. Ever since he grew up and lived alone, it happened to him regularly that he watched TV for so long until his eyes finally closed and he did not get to go to bed anymore. Blindly he reached for the remote control and switched off. He could turn off the TV, but not his thoughts. The demons that chased him were more real than the old monsters. Nevertheless, they were not tangible. What they wanted, these black thoughts, his demons, he did not know.
The bright light which had helped him fall asleep as a kid did not bring any relief. Now it was only a disturbance of his sleep. Often, he was lying in the pitch-black room, staring into the darkness. The thoughts couldn’t be stopped. The suffering of the world was enriched in them. He could not understand why he wasn’t able to let go of what it was, that took hold of him. Every night.
He found himself regaling the old monsters. Those who laughed and giggled at their supposed monster gathering, because children were in fear and fright in their beds. Thanks to them. The demons he had right now didn’t laugh.
They chased him, in complete darkness and during daylight. They were always there. Even being only in his mind, they were not less menacing. They did not leave him. The demons became a part of him.

But who had let them in?

Your choice

Thomas woke up sweaty and scared. He looked around, his room was all dark. All he saw was black. He took a deep breath trying not to think about the horrible pictures he had in his head. Shattering pictures of violence, right in front of him.
On his way, back home from the bar, he witnessed six men beat up two. It wasn’t possible to miss the screams of pain and anger. He looked down the byroad to see the fight, he shrugged. Blood blasted into his head, his heart beating wild. What should he do? What could he do? Anxious he tried to grab his phone, once he almost had it, he dropped it to the ground. „Fuck“, he mumbled. Right after that, he looked around. Did they hear him?
He still heard how they beat them up. The one who was already down got most of it. He called 911:
“Yes, how can we help you?” a comforting voice answered his call.
“You must send a patrol car and an ambulance, too. Ebert-Street 5”, Thomas said with a shaky voice.
“Young man, what happened?” the man asked.
“It’s happening. It’s still happening. A fight“, he said, almost sobbing.
„Looks dangerous“, he added in a scared tone.
„Thanks for reporting this, I’ll send somebody “, the man confirmed with his soft voice.
Then he hung up.

Thomas was leaning against the house wall, still anxious. He wanted to wait until the cops showed up. Minutes seemed to be hours. Hours and hours. Time passed and again he looked down the byroad. Two men were down but still, they didn’t stop beating them. Thomas sighed when the patrol car and the ambulance finally arrived. He stood there, paralyzed, staring at the cars going by on the main street. Without another look down the byroad, his legs carried him home. That night, he didn’t find any sleep. He couldn’t even think of laying down. Too horrible and haunting the images on his mind.

The next morning, it was all over the news. The horror news, all over the place.
“A deadly fight last night, one dead, one victim badly injured, still in a coma“, they reported.
Thomas was just able to make it to the sink in the kitchen to throw up. Tears were running down his face when he collapsed onto the floor.
Would he have been capable of saving them, if he wouldn’t have been such a coward?
He had the choice.
Did he?

Get over it!

Have you ever asked yourself, how it would be to live in a world where no one says: „Get over it!“?
Like it would be the most important and the most guiding words someone could contribute to your situation. As it would change anything. I’ve often asked myself that, even though I haven’t heard it often. At least not directly into my face.

The reason I thought about that is, I caught myself getting ready to say it. Maybe I did a few times. I allow myself to say, this did not happen to hurt people, no, but to protect myself. To protect me from being overwhelmed by the problems of others, people who’re close to me. People who mean the world to me. Such people I’d build bridges for, if there wasn’t a way they could get to me any longer, people I love with all of my heart.

In these moments I wish I would have said:
„I don’t ask you to get over it like it was the easiest step you could make. What I want for you is that you find a way. The right way for yourself. I want to help you because I love you. The ballast from your problems I carry because I love you. Limits I set because I cannot give more, are not limits of my love for you but they are my protection. To allow you to pass this limit, means for me, I fall. My own life I’ve to put behind yours if you expect it to be more important. I cannot love you more than I love myself. I cannot give more than I have and I hope you understand.

….and I pray that you believe me, while I know it’s not easy.
I know, something’s got a hold on you.
I know, most likely your problem doesn’t mean the end of the world, but, who am I to judge here?
I know, you don’t have a solution, you are looking for a small glimmer of hope.
I know, you hoped, I could present you with the answer you are looking for right now, ready to go.
If I’d have it, it would be yours. It’s the path to find it that makes me struggle.
The disappointment in your gaze because you were hoping I could do more. “

That’s what I’m going to say. Today and in the future.
Let’s ban “Get over it!”

What’s wrong with you?

„Mama, what happens when we die? “asked Marie, almost like a side note on our way home from the Kindergarten. It hit me hard, I almost stopped walking.
“How do you come to this question, baby?” I replied.
“I don’t know Mama, isn’t it true, that we all have to die one day? Do you know, when I’ll have to?”
“Oh, my sweet child, oh no!” I said and stopped, taking her into my arms. A little tear ran over my cheek as I felt the pain when this topic arose in me. Then I tried to explain: “No one knows when he has to go, my angel. All humans, animals and also plants have to die one day.”
When she stepped away from me, freeing herself from my tight hug, I saw that she was confused.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked her.
“You’ve not answered my question, Mama. Why does no one ever answer questions like this one? What’s wrong with you, adults?”
I was looking for a place to sit down and, every other day it seemed that this area was packed with way too many benches, I couldn’t find one right now. I leaned forward, “I want to answer all your questions I just don’t know the right answer”
“Could we ask someone else, then?” Marie asked promptly, bright blue eyes staring at me, obviously excited to hear my answer.
“Sure baby, there are people that are able to answer many, many questions but not this one. When we die, it’s like we fall asleep without waking up ever again. Our life is over by that time”, I struggled.
Marie obviously pondered on my words and said: “Okay”, nothing but that.
“Do you have more questions, sweetie?” I stilled myself.
“I don’t know yet, Mama. Maybe later. I promise I’ll try not to make you sad again, Mama”, she said, while raising her tiny hand for a vow.

Are the most traumatic and painful events, even more, aching for us, if we constantly ban them from our lives? For sure, we wouldn’t be able to live happy and calm, thinking about our ultimate end every day. Nevertheless, we should ask ourselves: Does the, here, acquired taboo enlarge pain and anxiety? Is it a fact, that we push the saddest part in our life, the end of it, too far away?
Even though, life and death inevitably belong together?

Born to die, mankind can neither escape pain nor death.

After compliments and praise, what’s next?

Balm for the soul, rewards for your efforts, confirmation after all.
Do we ever get enough of that, the appreciation of others?

It was a cold morning in November. Actually, she didn’t really feel like running at all. Her inner weakness was telling her to stay in bed. Nevertheless, she pushed herself, step by step. The music she was listening to made her deaf to her surroundings – unfortunately not for her thoughts.
“Fitness is the priority”, she told herself in time with the beat.
Just yesterday, they happened to be at a party and people were overwhelming her with compliments, about, her super fit toned body, after she gave birth to 3 kids. Wow!
Anna didn’t feel strong though. Not euphoric or proud. Every step made her sick.

Passing shops and coffee bars, the smell of freshly made coffee was strong and inviting.
Through the glass, Anna saw a family having breakfast. A typical Sunday activity.
She’d love to spend time in this place, with her own family. Her husband had suggested it countless times. His co-worker was all thrilled with this coffee-bar. She always had refused her husband’s suggestion. Looking for reasons why she figured there is only one: Pancakes and Croissants just don’t fit into her diet.
Her all-the-time condition. Actually, you can spend your time differently than just stuffing your face with sugar and fat, but what if you want to? What if that’s the right thing for this very moment?
What would happen if she would stop to push herself to her limits and far beyond it, constantly? For sure, there would be fewer compliments. Did she really care about that?

She went left, in the direction of the fields. Her monitor warned her: She was leaving the optimum heart rate. Anna slowed down, she saw the sun rising over the icy fields. She smiled. Actually, her whole life as an adult she was convinced that she wasn’t the slave of anyone or anything. Not dependent on the appreciation of others. Now she realized: That was a trap! Yet, she felt empty thinking about all the compliments she got. They didn’t really do anything for her at all. Just a “nice to have”. Wouldn’t it be great to be pleased with yourself and be able to take the compliments you get from others on top, as a little nice extra, but nothing else? YES!
Anna’s path brought her back to the coffee-bar and their pancakes: “That will be take out”, she said. Once she got home, ringing the doorbell, her husband Lukas laughed, unable to see her face behind all the food containers she carried “is that you, or the delivery boy who shows up at the wrong door?” he said with a big smile on his face. He took the containers out of her hands and wondered, it seemed as his wife did order everything that is on their menu, like twice. Anna was happy, they were having breakfast sitting on the floor in the living room, a children’s program running in the background. The smiling faces of her family made her happier than ever, she made the right decision for today. It was all she wanted for that moment. There was no compliments and no appreciation at all, not that it would have been necessary.




You really have to wake up and try harder, his father said with a frown, while he closed his book aggressively. He took his glasses off, upset and annoyed. Bastian didn’t have the nerve to look up, he felt miserable. Like a big time failure. He knew this moment would come when he had to show his father, the paper he got back from his professor. The results were shattering. It seemed like he didn’t understand a bit of what this class was about. His paper almost failed the subject completely.

He got up, hesitantly looking at his dad, who was standing in front of their big window now. Rubbing his forehead, mumbling. Like this could change anything. As he walked down the hallway, and, went up the stairs to his apartment, he got angry. Angry because of his professor and the stupid subject for this paper. For the most part, he was mad at his dad. The perfect-dad, perfect-lawyer and perfect human that he was! Anger brewing inside of him, he let himself fall on his couch. His dad who never wanted anything but to be proud of him, just once in a lifetime. Why was this making him so mad?

He got caught in the idea of telling his dad how he’d quit his law studies. Bastian had enough! Why should he still plant hope in people when there’s really nothing to hope for? His whole life was defined by this dream: His father’s dream. His son the lawyer. Bastian smiled while thinking about the face his dad would make by his decision. Right then, it dawned on him! Was his amusement over this a bit too much? In fact, was he the forced boy, with his complete future based on the pride of his father?

He just sat there thinking, for a long time. Many moments ran through his memory. To his shock, many of those, he could have easily done so much more. Yet, he decided not to. He was a master at letting good chances pass by. Stubborn he had waited for his dad to react, while he knew what was coming. It seemed almost like this was his goal. Only that!
What was the real problem? Was it the law-studies or that he was unable to accept any kind of appreciation from his dad? He always understood praise and compliments as a weakness. Like that’s for people who depend on both. That wasn’t how he wanted to be! Did he try to prove himself to his dad that he wasn’t oblique to that? While all these thoughts rushed through his mind, a tear ran down on his cheek. Him, the cool guy, who was too cool for his dad being proud of him. Him, who actually loved his field of study.

When he got up the next morning, looking at the sunrise, everything was clear. The night did wash off everything. His thoughts have been confirmed. From today on, Bastian wanted to do what he wanted to do. Being successful, and happy with it, and the pride others may have for that. Did he really think he was too cool for the appreciation of his dad? He smiled while he thought: ‘Well, that’s really the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.’

Years after his degree, as he was walking out of a meeting with an important client, he saw his dad sitting in the lobby. His dad looked up from his book when he noticed him, as they came together he gave him a big hug and a pat on his back “You got a new client on board, son? I’d like to say that I always knew what you are capable of but I didn’t. I hoped you’d do the right thing, especially the right thing that would bring YOU happiness! Are you happy, Bastian?”
“Yes, Dad, and feel free to be proud of me.”

Be brave enough to walk your path without the appreciation and praise of others.
Don’t be too proud, to accept them, with a smile on your face.