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Tiny dancer in Berlin

Posted by EVH , in T-Sessions, Uncategorized 02 June 2013 · 80 views

Berlin. Here I am. The air smells so familiar. People look familiar. I understand the language. Iím home. Went to the central station. Grabbed a coffee from the same coffee shop guy as always. Went to my favourite bakery to get my butter-cheese pretzel. Sat down and looked around. There it was, right in front of me, laughing in my face and mocking me. My old life. Spent here so many hours in the past waiting for my train taking me to my place. My very own place. Quiet. Warm. Safe. I remember sitting here with people I knew. Talking, laughing, having fun, looking so fresh and being so fabulous, thinking I still can have it all, every day is a new beginning, every day is a new chance, thinking I was not afraid of anything and anyone, thinking I was so strong. Now there is just this girl sitting with her laptop, wearing jeans and a sweater, short black hair, shaking hands, blogging, forgetting, missing her old self. Just a girl, no one special, an addict. A girl full of regrets and self blame. A quiet girl. Sad. Hurt. With nothing left but a little hope in her pocket. With nothing left but a little tear rolling down her face. Well Itís not my home anymore. I came here because I'm sick. I came here because I made some choices and I have to face the consequences. I came here because of choices other people made who came into my life and changed it forever. Iím here because my doctor said now or never. He said they had to change my recovery program. And IĎd not like it but If I want to have a chance, I have no other choice but to do it. He said 80-90% chance for staying cognitively challenged, 10-20% chance to recover. I like this term cognitively challenged. Sounds better than brain damaged. Words. I like words. Good words, bad words, wise words, stupid words. All words. Have worked with them for so many years. Walked down so many roads with them. Hand in hand. Putting letters together, creating words, discovering their meanings, obvious meanings, hidden meanings. Letters to words, words to sentences, sentences to texts. Words are all I got. What if I forget them? What if this is the last text I am able to write?
Big city lights, people walking around enjoying their weekend in the capital, all the little coffee shops on the corner of every street, little bakeries, German life style and me in the middle, smiling, hoping, wishing, believing. I missed that. I will always miss that. This is something I will never forget. This feeling of who I was. I owe it to myself. To remember. To remember this girl I used to be. And girl, I loved you, I never told you that, always so busy, never really noticing you, angry at you most of the time. Always living with my arms and heart wide open for everyone but you. I want you to know Eve, that I did love you. I just never knew how to talk to you. I love you tiny dancer. Eve, please do not forget who you are.





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