Tuesday, July 28 MMXX 22:27h

What if…


Varying in frequency, rate and intensity. 

The last few days a simmering one.

Constantly present at an intensity that can not be ignored, but stinging randomly just in case. 

I went for a run this morning.

Out of the blue.

My head pounding.

Chaos and anger. Frustration and sorrow. 

It had been a while sinds my last run.

The pain in my lungs made it clear that I was smoking to much.

Way to much! 

A sharp pain shooting through my foot and up my leg, reminded me of the injury I had inflicted on myself.

And of the fact that ignoring an injury doesn’t accelerate healing. 

Nor makes it go away. 


Why do I hate myself? 

How is it that I hate myself so much?

The repulsion I have towards myself.

The hatred…

Although sports are considered healthy, I knew I was going to hurt myself ones again.

But I couldn’t care less. 

I felt my body protesting after 300 yards.

And five miles later the protest had only grown. 

A heart rate shooting through the roof, pain in my chest and my body crying for help I wondered once again:

What if ? … 

What if I would drop dead right now?

Would the headaches be over then?

Or would the pain linger on in infinity?

Would it matter?

Does it matter?

Do I care?

A tidal-wave of questions flooded my brain as I picked up the pace.

Until it went dark.

All those questions reminded me that I do.

I do care!

I care about the world.

About every plant, creature and phenomenon.

And the fact that I’m trying so hard, fighting so hard to find a way is more than proof enough.

Yet despite the fact that I’m a philanthropist, I feel no connection what so ever.

No connection with them nor with myself because of trauma inflicted upon me.

And those injustices surround me still.

I am confronted with them daily and I still can’t do anything about it.

How than, am I supposed to cope with this unjust world?

With a world that has made injustice a norm.

And forces that norm upon the world.

I could tell you about the Waorani of the Amazon and the lawsuit they luckily won.

A lawsuit forced upon them where it had no right to be in the first place.

I could tell you about the tears that run down my face.

Tears of sorrow and frustration.

But then I remembered that all of this would not matter.

That it does not matter!, if I were to drop dead.

And that it would make no difference at all.

Hence I show you only half.

Half a part of me.

The other parts stay hidden as the whole you can not see.

Cause sadly I can’t trust what is called “humanity”.

But really, It Does Not Matter!

And I don’t care.

Not anymore.

Or do my hidden tears speak differently?


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