Diary_10.4.2020

When we don't live our lives, what life do we live then?
This is not my life, just a strange hose, who tosses with me in no direction.
I mean: the, that I helped shape, the, that I wanted to give back to myself, where is it?
Give me another one, so that I can get around it,
on the one hand, this here is the life freely chosen by me.
Or stop, but: Chosen freely, maybe, but still not mine, but another.
That love there, also, I shaped it differently!
This Fri…mtn one-way, these bones, I want to break out …. to bring back my moment.
But I didn't expect the environment, not counting on the circumstances, not with my physical decline (only with my mortality and therefore with my life!) etc. In fact, with vrd mt…. beautiful, wonderful things.

Problem: that life / biography just happened and surrendered. It can't be that, what i wanted, because I wanted to make my own life. Point. Love, I wanted to give it to myself; namely like this; how I figured it out for myself in my script: quite a holistic one, pretty extreme, very holy love! My love, that i made, don't forget the light! It is always flammable, also when she slumbers! That makes them holy; that it always ignites! BLA bla.
Bend to that, what one finds. Sooo much functionality. But I wanted to love in the light first, and only then work in terms of functionality. This is the logical order. But then I can't do it, to let the tea steep for exactly that time, that it tastes perfect to me. drmdrmdrm…..

 

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