62 (May 2nd, 2010)

Have a story, then you come here.

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Facade19
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Location: In the city of pigs

62 (May 2nd, 2010)

#1 Post by Facade19 »

My dear Aline,
how are you? Your reply has my soul singing with jubilation, with an ecstasy that words cannot fully voice. Though my response has taken longer than it should have, believe me when I say that I read and reread every word of yours, no matter how short. After years of silence and regret, I take what little I shall receive.

Forgive me if I have opted to speak in English and hence alienate you somewhat with my verbatim choosing. Over the years, as you must surely already thought, the words of my German homeland have surely vaporized and grown foreign, no matter my best efforts to muster enough strength to keep them dear. Truly, I refuse to ever forget my mother tongue, for if I were to lose that I would not only lose it, but lose you, everyone I knew in Germany and hold dear. Most of you who reside thousands of miles away, a distance my imagination and longing cannot overcome, shall perish if I forget the language of my youth. Most of you, with whom I had the pleasure of growing up, knowing since the age of 6, would be just pictures without emotions connected to them.

I ask myself, lately more often, what has this journey for a better life brought me? Granted, there are many things that this land has opened for us, a land where I feel at home, where I am not a stranger with dark hair and dark eyes, but rather a human being. Yet, at the same time, the amount of hardships and struggles have manifolded and there is not a lack for new strives. Deep down, the Jew in me can never reconcile the fact that for the remainder of my time on this place we call Earth, I will be forever commanded to wander and go into exile; an exile of the soul.

Though the sun smiles here more often than it did from where we shared precious moments of innocence and blissful youth, and my heart and mind have become more diligent, a certain strain has also created in me a silence, more tormenting than a storm, to which, no matter how I hard I try, peace cannot be granted. I am restless in this land. I miss you and all those of you to which my memory pays homage each and every night, when I awake with wet cheeks. They say time heals all wounds. That is not true. Time only attenuates these wounds.

I hope dearly that you will be able to read and understand, for within these few words, not much important to many, I am pouring my heart and soul.

Much has changed. I shall begin law school this upcoming fall and continue my studies. I am not sure what to make out of it. There is a peculiar part of me that is very excited and ready for this new turn of events. Yet, and here is yet another yet, I am bewildered and frightened-very nervous as well as anxious. I am not sure what good this will do for me. Looking back, at a time when we were still playing in the yard of our elementary school, I recall of how I wanted to be a hero. Now, when Fortuna has granted me some sort of accomplishment, I feel more lonely than ever before. Much time has passed, and this new step to be about to be taken only reminds me that my beloved parents, for whom I would fight Satan himself, have aged as well and sooner or later shall no longer be here with me. Just today, as I slumbered quietly, the image of my father's passing grieved me to my very core. I hate this feeling, this feeling of powerlessness. I cannot tame time. That damning hour is drawing near. Soon, tears will pour out of me and shall not cease. I have become very melancholic.

Maybe it is the dramatic in me that sours my mood, maybe it is just this refuge that still confirms to me that I am alive and well, that I am still capable of feeling and caring. Maybe, this pain of mine is reminding me that I am a mortal and must make the most of my time here, for surely I am not one of those blessed billions who hold on tight to the immortality of the soul. That voice, that powerful voice that drove Avraham away from his native land, what that voice has procured is everlasting, until we are no more. Then, I believe, we shall feel nothing anymore, as slowly our bodies will rot, eaten by worms or some other insect that nourishes on our proof of existence. The atoms will become part of something new and the eternal recurrence shall continue. Uncontested.

I am depressed. Clearly. Writing to you I thought would lift my spirit and allow me to masquerade my sentiments, protecting you with that necessary veil to keep you safe. But sadly, to you, out of everyone, I am unable to lie. My irony is immune to you. I wonder why.

Aline, wenn du diese Woerte gelessen hast, sei stark fuer uns beide. Geniss dein Leben und bleib Gesund. Ich vermisse dich sehr and hoffe das Ich noch einmal die moeglichkeit habe um dich zu sehen. Deine Stimme hat mir Mut gegeben und ich werde weiter gehen, weil ich die Grenze sehen moechte.

Bis dann!

Mo
Spartan
Posts: 481
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Re: 62 (May 2nd, 2010)

#2 Post by Spartan »

Immer interessant, Facade. Du musst oefter hier schreiben :) .

I'm always intrigued at how your voice stays consistent throughout your writing, whether it's poetry or prose. It's not precisely the same, but I can definitely hear the same echoes and undertones that I recognize from your poems. I like that...it makes everything you write feel really genuine.

I also feel like this letter is as much a dialogue with yourself as it is with Aline. Indeed, you even make that admission toward the end, but I get the impression that even you were surprised by how productive the internal dialogue was. It seems like by writing this letter you were testing the bounds of your depression, perhaps trying to penetrate it by reconciling yourself with the familiarity of your past...and the sense of finality in your words when you realize that this is impossible is palpable. It's tragic in its veracity, no?
Facade19 wrote:I hate this feeling, this feeling of powerlessness. I cannot tame time. That damning hour is drawing near.
This is far and away my favorite part of the letter. Even in your most frank and personal communications, you can't help but be poetic. Freaking beautiful, man...I almost want to sig it.


And out of curiosity...is this something that you actually sent, or did you just write this for yourself? In any case, I do hope that the interchange has somehow eased your depression. I wouldn't wish that burden on my worst enemy, let alone a friend like you :( .
[i]"To contemplate letting the alien, the heretic or the traitor win just to save a few million lives is the worst kind of heresy, because it is clad in the mantle of good intentions."[/i]

"I am Aenarion's heir, not Aenarion himself. My fate is my own."
-Tyrion, Champion of the Everqueen
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