Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Turning to stone

Nadine's funeral is tomorrow. I can see the discomfort in Micha, the sadness about this final parting.
Dammit, I've had enough. I know it is a lot harder for him, but it doesn't leave me cold, you know? My dad wants to help me, he tells me to not let things drag me down, but it is not exactly a choice, right?

They say what doesn't kill you only makes you harder... I know that is supposed to be a comfort.
But it isn't for me. I want to stay soft and alive; instead, I turn into a fuckin emotional crustacean that is unable to feel life, because it hurts too much to feel it, that always expects the worst just to be fuckin prepared.

I don't want to be afraid of life, but I am. I don't want to be afraid of pain, but I am, because it pins me down. If I don't want to be afraid, I have to turn indifferent, and that, for me, is the definition of evil, of worthlessness. It is a form of death.

I am officially in protest.

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