recurring urban agony

out of place in this space once again-
fuck, here we go again
never, never can I shake the feeling completely
that I am out of place
in this place I refer to as home

for now, as of now...

suffering under the same diseases, always
always missing the same things
and I know it sounds like despair right here
but it's a simple obligation

the obligation to see, feel, sense -
document
because surely I will have forgotten about these feelings
eventually
why and what will be when it happens - I don't know

I'm out of the woods
already and again
Made it through the one which kept my eyes locked,
forgetting for a while that this isn't everything and it doesn't have to be.
Blind to see all the things I can heartfully describe as wonderful,
and then there are still many who are not - that.

But, let me start from the beginning. Are you getting what I’m saying?

I miss the busyness, the occupation (die Geschäftigkeit, die Beschäftigtheit). Please don't confuse! I don't mean the one that city's call theirs (oh how I would love to be unknowing of city's bustle).

It's never been the same as treading water,
Sitting in a brightly lit office complex dripping in gray until late at night
Not the empty meetings, no matter the context
Not the bar hopping, not running errands nor drowning in the stress of exams.

it’s not that.
but what is it what is it!?

It is

being filled to the brim with encounters that make my thoughts float and fall, stir them up in the right way, so that in time they settle into a new order.

your love - everywhere I looked, it looked back at me with big eyes

the constant opportunity to give back, the constant feeling of being part of something

(I belong everywhere but here).

Some people will now throw selfishness back into the mix, but I know that for me it is simply and fully the embrace of what makes me human.

To share, because I don't need to own.

To take a few minutes for myself during breaks, instead of a few minutes for you during breaks.

To hone the skills that make me a good fellow human being. Even when I'm tired, even when I'm not in the mood -

I'm hardly ever overstimulated when it comes to you.
That's more when I have too much of a break from you.

Do you know what I was convinced of for so long? Yeah until yesterday actually...
I thought there was only one way to fight, just this one way to commit

(in this moment I'd be okay disappearing into traveling again in a heartbeat):

front line, in the city, right here.

Simultaneously, "right here" is as exchangeable as all of modernity's other qualities.

-

Today I moved on from this story.

I think, I can fight from anywhere and everywhere else while people will continue fighting here.

And it can have all the forms, all the shapes, all different shades and voices.

There is no one way, not just one place, not just one truth.

We all do it differently and more and more and always stronger und sometimes more and sometimes less am I worried noticing that my nature differs greatly from that of my fellow human beings.

Writing these words, reading them, immediately I wonder - how true is that really?

Because…

We're all about the same thing - we just talk about it differently. And we all stand up for it in the same way - we just look at it from different angles. We all come from the same reality and we all want to get out of it. And while many are physically capable of living in it, the one thing that might set me apart from you is, that I'm not capable of doing that, not well at least.

I wanna go, every other week I just want to leave and call it all a joke. Name it a try that failed, gracefully but full speed against the walls of this city.

(Until I leave I will sit in this grey, rainy town, romanticize how its light reflects on the dark, wet streets and drink expensive coffee at the corner before I go to sleep again)

(I will think of myself as the lone writer, always just a bit on the side, never fully arriving, belonging, finding their community out in the vast country where their soul finds the space, flows at right pace)

I used to view life and my decisions as definite, there to build an unbreakable frame around my ability to act.

Doing one after the other but never staying, scared to get stuck.

With traveling and learning, the walls in my head have been teared down and without planning my departure, it doesn't feel like I'm going to stay for the longest time.

I'm gonna flow further, bigger, further than this while trying to accept the righteousness of life right now.

I wonder, do you wonder too

why I even care thinking about the duration of this body in this place? I guess because most people view living here the other way around than I do.

(The city, the streets, this house, all will pass, making space again eventually.)

And nothing fulfills me enough to make me think that I don't need nothing else. It's never enough, I'm never content.

I think I'd only be if my days were full of you.

But that's not what the city is made for. We're all made too much for ourselves, too much for the rhythm of the city.

All too fast and too loud to really hear and to really feel.

It's too empty here, the abundance is too empty.

Finding quick fixes for iceberg problems.

And I'm hardly overstimulated anymore, I'm rather empty because so little from the outside finds its way into me.

And I’ll see you the next time the woods appear.