Deluded happiness

  
I have played the happy contentment, the playful, silent appearance so many times that I have become a liar and accomplice of myself. Now I could finally free myself from the tormented prison hell of forced robot actions in a dignified manner and I could live a little. Restless and nervous, I search, watch myself and ask aloud: What else is missing?! I wonder where the exhausted, writhing lack can lead to and where?

Is there something missing from me or the total, absurd world?! Why not a dream job that promises to be promising, or a small, tiny allowance? "I'm already in the position that everything has become tinsel and can be bribed." It's a caressing, puffing old lie and you're totally wondering if I fought and tried for my dreams - because you can't just pretend or feel the deceived happiness!

And while I played the honest - true consolation in place of others in many forms - I necessarily forgot about my own leaden, concrete sins, and the Golgothas of my selfish self-pity. This is more than enough for life as a superficial, cosmeticized appearance. Only small people can know the persecuted, half-hearted happiness: the privileged ones who can be bribed! Maybe it doesn't matter for a long time whether I run away or flatten even the wretched rubble beneath the rough surface. The merciless Executioner-Time quickly catches up and roars over my head like a prolific waterfall.

Maybe they will still travel with me - if I ask them nicely - they are the main and side characters of my life, and even though I have to shiver coldly, because my Beloved - it seems - he is now a complete human being late! Sooner or later, even the dead can put on winter clothes and sweaters as an act of atonement!