Sorry, this entry is only available in German.
Desire – my loyal friend and companion
Desire – so light and poetic, slightly melancholic and yet full of passion. Who’s speaking of desire seems like they’ve seen everything there is in life – lived a hundred lives – a traveler that’s home to nowhere with endless stories to tell. Who’s speaking of desire has friends everywhere and eats the most exotic meals, has tanned skin and salt in their hair. Who’s speaking of desire sits in a rocking chair on the veranda and sparks the flame of wanderlust in the innocent hearts of their countless grandchildren.
But I have desire.
I got taken aback by the coldness of reality. Germany – the land of poets and thinkers, and nobody seemed to find a better word for this feeling? Sehnsucht. The literal addiction of longing. An addiction? And I have this Sehnsucht. The desire – but nothing about it is light and poetic. I dream of living a hundred lives, yet I don’t make the most of the one I already have. It feels like walking on the spot. The years pass by and although you stumble restlessly around, you don’t seem to have moved, to have changed. Everything is pushed to “later”.
“Well this? This is just a temporary job. Well, actually it’s not the best major to study one could wish for, but it’s only for three years.” And suddenly you notice how you’re suffering through it, being expected to bring your best but only giving the average. We let the years walk by, yet we want to see us march. Confident and with a straight step towards DREAM.
But isn’t the way the goal? And any way we walk it its highest quality? Is our way less valuable if we stumble or stand still, without regret to have missed something, just to watch the flowers at the corner of the sidewalk? Are we actually capable of enjoying one thing, without the fear of missing out on the other? Though we chase the feeling of “perhaps missing out on something”? Are we taken aback by being overwhelmed? That the Better and Prettier of others are constantly standing against our own happiness? Fact is, that the own life with its hard but beautiful sides doesn’t stand a chance against the instgramfilters.
Nowadays, you don’t actively have to look for a partner and you’re excited about any capture – and if one can swipe right from the couch, being kilometers away – one might as well stay seated. Taking mean screenshots of stupid pick-up lines, but not having the courage to talk to that sweet guy on the tram. Is it the subconscious that tells us that there could always be something else around the corner? And when paths cross you’re hesitant because there could also be something better. And who the heck tells me what “the better” is? Because I have this desire anywhere, at any time. Sure, I’m comfortable here, but what if I could feel even more at home somewhere else? And where is this somewhere? Where is the grass greener, and can I catch a glimpse on it from the couch, if only to see if it’s worth getting up and on the way?
I thrive on this desire, every wind blow moans into my ear that I “should do something of my life – do something meaningful – that makes you happy as well”.
This desire is chasing, faster and faster. It robs my sleep and poisons my mind. It’s a deceptive companion, shoving that inner watch in your face whilst taking valuable time from you. I run, I haste and yet- yet I have the feeling of standing still. Of waiting.
So while my inner self is running for its life, chasing the sense of life. I’m waiting. For something better to come around. But please tell me the secret of how this is supposed to work? One running around, headless and the other waiting naively.
And now I understand. Desire is an addiction, it poisons the heart and fogs the mind, if we taste too much of it. Yet it pushes me. It is a welcomed friend, to share laughter and tears with, to get advice from, even if wrapped a little harshly. Advice that I tend to understand when it’s too late, yet right on time. It’s a compass that can only lead you if you know your aim, though this won’t be the North for most of us. And even if I wished for this friend to leave, to stop pressuring me and to stop laying on my chest. I am happy every time she takes my hand and shows me that desire is worth it. It’s worth it to follow her because – even if it’s not always easy to stand still, to put your luck into other’s hands and wait for something better – it gets you closer to your goal.
I have a new word for desire – a good, true friend. A piece of me that only wants the best. That pushes me, not chasing me, though I need to understand this more.
I hug you, my loyal friend and companion.
All blogs post the same… good, that I am no blogger.
Well, I have a blog – and Instagram. And yes, I mention it like once or twice in any conversation. Perhaps I choose the most instagrammable food when I order something at a restaurant, and I might be guilty of arranging the table set up to match the aesthetic. Okay, I’ve moved entire tables every now and then – to an entirely different restaurant – at the other end of the city – because the table cloth fits the wall color. And yeeaaah, I might have brought along my own food – disgusting to taste, but fantastic to look at. Because lets be real, a messy, greasy kebap probably doesn’t get me to a thousand likes.
But to make things clear, You Only Live Online.
I’m living so online, that my latest Instagram post looks more similar to the 23485930572 other #fashionistas and #influencers, than my own reflection in the mirror. I’m living so online, that I double tap the beautiful sweater of the next to me on the train, waiting for the tags to pop up and buy it right ahead. I’m living so online, that a voice in my head started developing, correcting myself that “that’s pronounced bal-en-si-AA-guh (Balenciaga)”. I’m so online that I get upset and disappointed when I meet somebody in #reallife and he actually looks like he does in his profile picture. I am so online that I love children so much – until I push them aside to get them out of my shot. I am so online that I only mention something meaningful, if I announced it with #realtalk. I’m living so online that I proudly wear the color of my generation of Millennials. It’s Millennial Pink and if you didn’t know this – somebody show me the door ‘cause I’d like to leave. Or in my time – the “X” in the right corner. I am so online that I’m scared of warning waves, though I’d volunteer to become an unpaid, walking ad pillar and free billboard #notsponsored. I am so Facebook that I have three thousand friends, but celebrate my birthday with no more than two. Me and that annoying voice trying to break the ice with: “it’s pronounced LOO-iVWEE-ton” (Louis Vuitton).
I am so online, I (don’t) have a #restingbitchface, because I have emojis. The only thing I admire of reality is it’s high definition, resolution and color depth. Nice graphic card universe, gotta hand it to you. Will Instagram get that upgrade soon or…? I am so snapchat, that sometimes when I wake up I panic and look for my dog ears. I am so online that I don’t tape my webcam. I need the stage, I need the audience – even if it’s just a FBI guy.
All blogs post the same stuff – good god I’m happy that I’m different. That’s why here are some beautiful pictures in front of cherry trees. And guys – you can’t imagine how exhausting it was to photoshop the other bloggers out of them.