And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.
And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.
And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.
And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.
So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.
The build up of festive joy on christmas eve died when the crimson tide decided to hit the shores and I spent most of my actual birthday in bed. It has been extremely quiet, no loud parties, no getting wasted, no birthday songs sung(because i’m too unwell to even feel like celebrating, so i asked my parents if i could just go straight to cutting the cake). I feel terrible, and I just cancelled bbq plans with people that I haven’t seen for the longest time and really wanted to meet because I’m feeling too drained(pun totally not intended) and morose.
I hope you are having better festivities than me, for I shall now retreat back to my bed and be away from everyone.
‘crimson tide decided to hit the shores’
totally hahaha!