I am not really sick or sad, but this might appear differently. What makes me look like this? It seems I am walking on crutches, and this is irritating for everyone involved, maybe even for myself, but maybe not anymore. Can I get used to it?

Quite often, I did the same with others: Assuming what they might think and feel. I might have been correct rarely, but I could also easily have mistaken my imagination for reality. So, there is no reason to be surprised. Yet, what makes me show up weak and lazy?

If I cannot actually control myself, why should I control others? Why should I imagine that force in deeds and words will change them? I doubt that this is more than a wish, a dream-like confusion. And did I not want them to be free? So why push if I can support instead? I can give, but do I need to take? Connection does not need to be a distraction. I am available; maybe it is best to show my affection through action, not speech.

Over the years, I might have gotten a sense, but it is not what I expected long ago. All my complex explanations of how life unfolds are not particularly helpful for me, as experiencing engagement is very different from hearing about it. But even this is nothing I could properly turn into a definition; the story of “not having a story” is just as silly.

The next moment might not be easy, but perhaps it is another beautiful issue, a chance to relate myself. Not everything that happens is pleasant; some things are even horrific. But first, I want to find myself, as there is no permanent escape from my random preferences. Do I want this to be different? I think that would be an impossible goal.

Everyone could possibly attempt to explore how to observe, how to relate, and how to act. And maybe there is an opening, a space that unfolds, starting at every pause, embracing the entire situation. It is not mine, it is not yours, so it was always ours. It was never concealed.

You are always welcome.