Station 4 is coming to the night. In the corridors, everything is slower. The steps of the nurses are sluggish, muffled the voices, the ringing of the patients less frequently. The silent transition into the dark and indeterminate and unconscious fills me with the desire to free myself from my thoughts & me of the invisible hand of God left to give.
Today there is not God. God is far away. And the fact that he alone can decide myself, my life seems fragmented. I only see chunks and shreds & Splitter. And I understand: for the work to create a unit out of my life, I am dependent on my own. I will not sleep tonight & tomorrow not get up again. And above all, I will not be impressed.
mind I need me that night not to do - they come by themselves, like hungry wolves. They pounce on me, me tear up. I can not deny it, do not throw out their elegant track, not hide, not be distracted by arguments or even stop. They do not listen to me.
appears just before my mind's eye my friend Jan Frans, who died more than twenty years - he was just thirty-five - because his aorta burst. Just like that. One day he told me: "When the night comes, you should better go to bed, you'll catch the demons." When it comes to demons knew my friend know. "Uncontrollable thoughts," he said, "remote-controlled. You will be sent to you to awaken fears. And you know why? Because your fear is food for the demons. "
The thoughts that come to me, telling me that life is actually quite simple. I just had to understand only that it is irresponsible to smoke, drink, me not to move sporty, not orient myself to the rhythms of day and night, letters of not answering and emails will not open up important letters from the Treasury, the plants in my apartment and not water to the refrigerator not to clean.
0 comments:
Post a Comment