Dates...

We are marked with dates, numbers in every step that we make. Each number has a special meaning, it takes us to s place in the past. Even though we are not paying attention to them, we are somehow reminded. Years mark us, our age becomes more and more exposed. We are forced to follow the pattern of others before us. We can't follow our age anymore but we keep on aging. The expectations are high and so close to our age but the looks resist to this pattern. We are still asked to show some ID, to prove the world we can use some privileges. They are all astonished when they look up the numbers. Than they check you out again, they check the picture and they make comments, unnecessary comments in their defense.

I see this people, they all have »it« all figured out, they are already settled. Than I look at myself. Where am I, what do I have? I have myself and that's all. They all have a special someone in their life, the one, they come to when they are sad, spend their evenings with or even fight over meaningless things. I had it all, it was a long time ago. The time was not right, again numbers. My age was not acceptable, his mind was not there yet. But is it now? No, it will never be. We stayed the same, times have changed but we haven't. We are the same people with a little more experience. Than I hardly picked up myself from the ground and I feel even deeper. I feel so deep that I don't know if I will ever fully stand on my feet again and forget all about it. There were also numbers involved, our mothers brought us into this world on a date that means something. Our astrological sign marks us forever and we can't change that. We can have certain habits but the character is routed in us for good. The dates will always remind me of it. Numbers are immortal. They pass from generation to generation and never die. They are written everywhere. We live our lives for numbers and the way they want. We celebrate holidays when the calendar tells us, we eat when the clock says we can, we wake up when the numbers turn to the number we set it to, we give the amount of money as it says on the label… The numbers have no end.

Can there be an end if there were no beginning?

We were just there and it just happened, all of a sudden. Right out of the blue, you just let yourself to me. Always smiling, self conscious and taking everything momentarily and as it is… I keep forgetting that you are one of »Them«… Scary, weird but… It seems that you are watching the happening from the distance just passing on some comments and making remarks about every fifth word I say. You have the ability to squeeze me in the corner with just one word, sometimes even the word is not needed. I have you just there, just than, but when I'm gone, everything is gone. Just like nothing ever happened or even less than that. You became just a pretty face again and I continue with my life as it was a month ago. And than you surprise me again, I'm happy but concerned. I have never met someone like you before, even »He« is not so complicated and calm. Maybe I'm just a threat and you are afraid too, maybe it's all just a game for you, maybe it never happened or maybe it has no beginning and therefore no end? Al those questions. Why? When? If? Would? Will? Why do we need them? I'm feeling strangely well for a quite long time now, it's not a happy »well« but just a strange »well« I'm experiencing for the first time. I can just say I am living. Not looking over my shoulder, not looking back, just living, not even looking forward. That's bad in a way, I must take matters in my own hands and handle life and everything what it brings… I'm not even sure if there was a beginning, can I expect an end or there never were a beginning to start with? Can we have a beginning without an end and an end with no beginning? Will we ever be on the same frequency? You've creped under my skin, I can't help it. Every time I see a boy with fuzzy hair and a smile, I feel a strange feeling in my stomach. Or even when I see a stubby one in a red shirt… Another feeling comes. Scary one. I'm afraid to face »him« again, it's easier to never come near again.