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Annex I Chapter 2

Aug 19

2 min read

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I’ve lost my jump for joy,

Life's euphoria. 


I’ve become a cloud of depression, 

cycling away the tears, 

behind the glass of my ugly glasses, 


as the lush fields of greenery 

a scenery once to be commemorated 

now reappear as grayish canvasses, textured in blankness 


as the skies darken, behind and ahead of me, 

and salute me with their windy arms, 

formations of a storm-to-be, 


I feel so empty, 




this black and gulping void, 

turning my intestines inside out, 

the fear and anguish 

the existential dread, 

crushing my capacity to dream


to create


And yes, I pedal faster,

harder, pedaling away the sorrows of yesterdays 


the pain of tomorrow, yet I find, 

whatever it is I am pedaling away from,

always comes 

closer by



I mostly cry in utter silence without any tears. 

Yet when I am cycling, I allow myself, 

now and then, 

one tear. 


Each working day I have approximately one hour and a half to cry. 


On my bicycle. 

In silence. 


In serenity. 

Laughing hysterically

out of utter desperation. 


Without moving a single muscle.




Sometimes I get caught up in my sadness, and I need to remind myself, I cannot appear in utter sadness before my students. I can be vulnerable and sad, never without strength nor hope. 

If I am teaching students on the wits of the allegory of Plato’s cave, I cannot burst into tears, 

be in despair and  speak in all honesty of the idea

that all is an illusion but the horror of reality. 


I can only hope, they are to understand, with feelings and ideas, that reality is and shall ever be lifes creativity, 


that after despair, there’s always hope, and there will always be love, to be found in the deepest of our hearts, even if we have to climb an ocean of mountains, swim through the nothingness of a dark starry sky

 

We are to create our world.. 


We are not free from necessity 


We are necessarily & fundamentally free.





I dread conversations with other teachers. 

I sneak into the coffee room, tapping myself a coffee with one cream and one sugar, a glass of water, and I disappear as fast as my appearance, 


unnoticed and unseen. 


There I stand with a lukewarm cup of coffee, one cream, and one sugar, staring out of the window, covered in rainy drops, expressing the tears I never could have shed. 


My watering eyes follow the branches and their leaves of a beautiful oak, 

a breathing remnant of nature, 

cloaking my need for cosmic belonging. 



In between, I stir my coffee with a silver spoon, 

holding on to a lukewarm liquid, searching for clouds of milk, 

only to find a darkening storm, 

watering my eyes,  


and I fear tears welling up, 



I breath 


slowly, 


into a rhythm of acceptance, inner strength. 

Cloaking my soul in warmth

and love.


Aug 19

2 min read

0

16

0

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