Ten years have passed. We no longer know each other, or rather, we hardly speak more than a few lines every year. I don't even know why I'm writing about this. I made a mistake. More out of an impulse, an urge, a fixed idea.

Let's be honest, there are always shit times. I was also cowardly enough to simply address the problems and present them for what they are. My insecurity, my image of myself as having to be strong. My awkwardness to talk about feelings. At least my feelings. Sure, I do talk about feelings. But about others. I would make myself vulnerable if I talked about mine.

In the bad times it all comes together, fear, hurt, cowardice. And then there was this opportunity to just feel good. No big questions, just relaxing for a few hours, peace and quiet. But after that, it's no longer fear, hurt, cowardice. Afterwards, it's this other feeling that gnaws at me. Was it wrong, even though it felt good? Yes. Did I admit it, talk about it? No.

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Somewhere in my head there is this old story about the man who once came to a new village. He was capable, clever, strong. Everyone was happy to take him in. And nobody really asked him where he came from. And, above all, why he left. Even when he was dying, he said nothing. And that's exactly the point. These stories that change completely when a single sentence is said or written or played. Life-changing, a chasm that runs through everything.

I stand on one side of this ravine. The other person is on the other side. It is my job to cross this chasm. Between all the great values, the great speeches and sayings, there is this ravine. It is perhaps only 10cm wide, perhaps 10 light years - what difference does it make. Silence envelops it for everyone else. But for me it is a daily companion. It's been gnawing at me for a shitty time.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)