I’ve been living for a whole weekend. Not existing, not functioning, just living like everyone else. That’s relaxing but it makes me tired nevertheless. A whole weekend of banning the thoughts from my head. Not suppressing them, just postponing because they’re supposed to be quiet for a change. Laughing with friends, jumping and shouting at a concert without wondering if I come across strangely, eating cake. Just like there was no darkness inside me and no fear.
Today I feel exhausted from so much life as if I had to hole myself up in a burrow and process it all – keeping those moments deep inside me so that they can’t run away. In order to make their light shine when it’s getting dark inside me again.
Yesterday evening I went through some old texts of mine. I burned most diaries from my teenage time, there are just some loose sheets left. And every one of them tells about a different person, a completely different identity. When I read them now I realize just how dark the place I was in used to be at a time that is meant for parties and foolishness. I’m not sad because I missed out on something that has always felt superficial for me. I’m just amazed at how long I lasted. Such a long time alone, such a long time without the feeling of having anyone to confide in. I remember nearly being caught a few times and when I thought I might pass out due to fear the moment was suddenly over. Because my mask was too perfect. A feeling between success and breakdown. Like:
A wound on my arm and before anyone can ask I tell a story about getting injured while climbing my favourite tree. Somebody makes a joke about how she hadn’t thought it had been on purpose. I ask what if. She laughs. My try, my provocation failed – not our colourful Nina! Today there are still people who won’t believe anything’s wrong because I laugh and dress colourfully and everything seems to be alright.
Subtle cuts on my hand, there won’t be any scars but for now they’re visible. Somebody asks if she can see my new bracelet. I leave my body as she takes my hand. She looks at the bracelet. And damn it, she doesn’t see it! I don’t know if I would’ve wanted her too, it’s just so confusing. People can be so blind.
What I want to say is that it doesn’t seem to be much of a difference whether I actually live or just pretend to for most people. Very few even realize when I’m not really there. That must mean I’m a good actress. For others it’s not important if it’s as special as this weekend full of life or the way it was when I was fifteen. For me the difference couldn’t be any bigger. When it’s as beautiful and spirited as this weekend it sometimes gives me a fright to think how I nearly threw all this away (I guess that’s what other people feel at the thought). But after all, when the huge nothing comes I forget every beautiful moment. I won’t be able to keep the feeling this time no matter how hard i try. But as long as it’s here – thanks 🙂