Too far to be remembered

Ok guys, we all know that not every day is Saturday and sometimes we just feel a bit down. In the spring 2018 I was living in Barcelona and I gotta tell you – I had some pretty tough time there. I felt endlessly lonely and I spent days and weeks reflecting on value of friendships, joy coming from the connection to others and how important it is to be happy on your own. One year later I cannot be happier that all of this happened – cause it is yet another proof that after every storm the sun shows up again!

Here is one of my notes in the diary Barcelona in March, 2018.

Today, I didn’t want to leave the house.

The weekend was exhausting. I went out 3 nights in row. One of the nights I had three parties to go. I danced with so many people. Talked to dozens. I had two
friends visiting from the Czech Republic and I didn’t stop for a single minute.
Today after breakfast (because breakfast is my favorite moment of the day) I felt SO optimistic.

I sat in the sun in our living room, working a little, enjoying the morning coffee.
At the lunchtime, a stomach ache kicked in. I changed to my pajama, made myself a tea, prepared a hot water bottle to release the pain. I spent two hours watching documentary about yoga.

After the film finished, some weird tension gathered in my chest. It wanted out. A stream of tears ran down my face soaking softly into the pillow. I wept. I sobbed. And I cried myself to sleep.

Upon waking up, my body, heart and mind were tired. The space in my head usually flooded with sunshine was gloomy and dump. I tried to find a reason for joy but all the lights were off. I fought that maybe going out would improve my state. With a great effort I put on my trousers and a jumper. Grabbed the handbag and wrapped up.

My mind was numb, bare and exposed to every little sensation. Every light, every noise of a car passing by, the breeze stroking my face. „Be here now.“ I repeated the wisdom from the film.

I felt tired. Oh so tired.

On my way home I passed a man sitting on the floor by the entrance to the bank, his face in his palms and a paper cup for coins standing in front of him. The man was young, maybe early thirties, well dressed and handsome. He was sitting there in a clear despair, all alone, hiding his identity from the world.

I slowed down and looked at him with sadness. What could possibly happen? I continued walking. The man didn’t move, no sign of emotion.

I turned around once. Twice. I held him in my mind, but not for long.

After 200 meters, he was too far to be remembered.


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