Longing

There it is again, that suffocating feeling. This overwhelming longing for that place that has captivated and enchanted me. I am overwhelmed by its abundant character; so many personalities are united within it. And yet all of these ultimately converge into a perfect form. For me, a perfect picture emerges. With every thought of its unparalleled inhabitants, its flowing dynamism and its hidden corners, my heart grows warm. I must smile.

And yet I am not there. What is it about this place that I have fallen for so completely? I accept its weaknesses, all its flaws and peculiarities. For these have helped create it and shape it day after day. 

Am I naive? Am I idealising once more? What is the true origin of my longing?

There is something that weighs on me, that fills me with melancholy. And so it cannot remain this way. 

I strive for change, for new adventures. Perhaps I can obtain these at my longed-for dream destination. But who can assure me of that? 

Perhaps I have created a dream world for myself. 

Should I not be content with what I have already built for myself?

 I feel alone with my feelings – everyone else seems to be without complaint, all satisfied. 

And then there is me. I dream. I long for a life that I have already imagined, that I have already constructed for myself. However, I must admit to myself that mere changes to my surroundings cannot provide comprehensive life happiness. There is also an inner process that must take place. I live in a bubble, in an idealised vision, without regard for disillusionment. 

I cannot hope that the aforementioned place will drown my dissatisfaction alone. Ultimately, I am my own inhabitant.

My dream need not remain an unrealistic and utopian work of art in my head. I smile, because I am now aware of this.  

Karina Thiem