In the nights, when i lie awake, I have the craziest moods. I make plans, what else I want to do. I will go to Paris again, a, two months, I'll be sitting on a folding chair down in a yard or by the wall of a house, maybe I'll buy a cheap guitar, I will explore all corners, which I can reach on foot, smallest things I will see everywhere …. and many, many faces ….lovely, grass, worn faces, expressive faces ….I'll practice French again and buy croissants at the bakery, i will look, like a Frenchwoman in my clothes …. I will expand small radius a little bit, And at night I'll look out the window of my room, and that sweet smell, peculiar to Paris, breathe in…. I will be cosmopolitan once more, Disappeared there too, Hermit, but I will discover so much, I just have to make it there.
But then, when the night is over, and I after a few hours of sick sleep, wake up, I know, That I was creating just one reality again ….. just a reality … not even a dream …. and yet I feel so bad, so miserable, So weak, that even the memory of my nightly travel planning tortures me to the core …..
…. and I know, Raven, that I will not travel anymore, because that's how I hit the earth for hours every day upon awakening. I know, that there is no solution, 'Cause I can't wake up any other way, until I have real hope, That I'll be whole again: as a human, as a poet, as a woman.
The, what i didn't do, the, what I didn't live, the, what's over, without, that I could give it the necessary depth, is tormenting me now, I don't want any more memories of my life, because the thought, to get away with an unfulfilled and imperfect life, shook me with disappointment and despair and my crash intensified unspeakably. i could say, that these terms “fulfillment”, “perfection” mean nothing, but it doesn't help. I feel it, what I meant by that and still mean …
I can not believe it, that this should be the result, of the, what I was and am ……
I can not believe it, that there is no way out ….
I can not move ….
Raven! It could have turned out differently. If only life consists of coincidences …..