Und sogar einen Auszug zu finden, den ich bereit bin zu teilen.
Es werden zwar irgendwie von tag zu tag weniger wörter, aber grade könnte das daran liegen, dass ich nichtmal einen halben Tag je Zeit hatte und viel davon für ablenkung draufgegangen ist.
Bis jetzt habe ich aber immer wenigstens einen Tagescount (<1500 Wörter) geschrieben, also bin ich zufrieden.
Ich trete ja auch (gezwungenermaßen ohne laptop an und das macht es schwieriger.
Wenn ich jetzt tatsächlich noch in der Lage wäre mich aus zu drücken, dann würde der Eintrag länger und sinnvoller.
So folgt jetzt die Beerdigung meines MC.... zur Hälfte.
Weil die andere Hälfte noch nicht geschrieben ist...
Auszug:
Erik felt
lonely even though there were quite a lot people around him.
He would not describe his surroundings as crowded, but maybe lively.
Even though that was an odd choice of words since they were on a graveyard.
Erik concentrated really hard on his breath. He would not cry.
No one here was allowed to see him cry.
The only person, who was ever allowed to see him cry, laid in the casket in front of the altar.
He would not describe his surroundings as crowded, but maybe lively.
Even though that was an odd choice of words since they were on a graveyard.
Erik concentrated really hard on his breath. He would not cry.
No one here was allowed to see him cry.
The only person, who was ever allowed to see him cry, laid in the casket in front of the altar.
And he
simply saw that Erik was about to cry so he could not hide it, no matter how
hard he tried.
Erik had to take a especially deep breath to prevent himself from sobbing when he thought that J would never tell him everything would be okay and just hold him while he was crying.
You have cried enough, he tried telling himself.
You cried every night since they found him. You have not really slept since then. It is enough.
Obviously it did not work. He could still feel the tears in his eyes.
Everything blurred in front of his eyes.
All the people dressed in black became one giant chunk.
Black. J would not have liked that.
He thought black was not the colour you should wear at a funeral.
It depended on the person what you should wear.
One time, a few years ago they told each other how they wanted their funerals to go.
Erik could still remember what J told him.
”They should play my favourite song, hopeful music. If you are still alive, you should choose. And everyone should wear green. Different shades of green blending into each other when you are crying. Green is the colour of hope.
And I want a small gravestone, not one of those big grey monsters.”
No one except Erik wore green. They played a sad piece on the piano and the stone was big and heavy.
They did not ask Erik for help, they simply decided.
It made Erik feel worse than he did before. He failed his best friend.
He knew how J wanted his funeral and he did not manage to make it happen that way.
Suddenly he got up.
”I… want to say something.”
If he could not make the funeral happen the way J wanted, they should at least remember the real J- his best friend who planned his funeral even though he wanted to stay alive so much.
Everyone was looking at him. He simply knew it.
Finally he stood in front of the altar. He could look into the open casked.
H turned away before he really started to cry.
”J…” He paused to take a deep breath. He was not sure what he was going to say.
His chest hurt and his throat seemed to tight.
In the corner of his eyes he saw a movement. Someone entered the chapel.
When he saw Jane he instantly felt better.
He knew he was going to cry tonight but he would not be alone anymore.
It did not feel bad to allow Jane to see his tears even though she was barely eight.
”J was a wonderful person.” He said.
”This was not the funeral he wanted but since no one asked him- or me- it is like this. I don’t want to be here. It is not the place J belongs. But he is dead and he will never return. Yet he will never be truly dead as long as every single one of us has one good memory of him. I have plenty of them, but I would like to tell you how we met…” Now he had to pause because he could not see anymore. He closed his eyes for a second and felt a tear leaving his eye, gliding down his cheek.
He did not let any more tears escape.
”We were only five and in preschool. We just moved and I knew no one. No one wanted to talk to me or play with me, except for J.
Erik had to take a especially deep breath to prevent himself from sobbing when he thought that J would never tell him everything would be okay and just hold him while he was crying.
You have cried enough, he tried telling himself.
You cried every night since they found him. You have not really slept since then. It is enough.
Obviously it did not work. He could still feel the tears in his eyes.
Everything blurred in front of his eyes.
All the people dressed in black became one giant chunk.
Black. J would not have liked that.
He thought black was not the colour you should wear at a funeral.
It depended on the person what you should wear.
One time, a few years ago they told each other how they wanted their funerals to go.
Erik could still remember what J told him.
”They should play my favourite song, hopeful music. If you are still alive, you should choose. And everyone should wear green. Different shades of green blending into each other when you are crying. Green is the colour of hope.
And I want a small gravestone, not one of those big grey monsters.”
No one except Erik wore green. They played a sad piece on the piano and the stone was big and heavy.
They did not ask Erik for help, they simply decided.
It made Erik feel worse than he did before. He failed his best friend.
He knew how J wanted his funeral and he did not manage to make it happen that way.
Suddenly he got up.
”I… want to say something.”
If he could not make the funeral happen the way J wanted, they should at least remember the real J- his best friend who planned his funeral even though he wanted to stay alive so much.
Everyone was looking at him. He simply knew it.
Finally he stood in front of the altar. He could look into the open casked.
H turned away before he really started to cry.
”J…” He paused to take a deep breath. He was not sure what he was going to say.
His chest hurt and his throat seemed to tight.
In the corner of his eyes he saw a movement. Someone entered the chapel.
When he saw Jane he instantly felt better.
He knew he was going to cry tonight but he would not be alone anymore.
It did not feel bad to allow Jane to see his tears even though she was barely eight.
”J was a wonderful person.” He said.
”This was not the funeral he wanted but since no one asked him- or me- it is like this. I don’t want to be here. It is not the place J belongs. But he is dead and he will never return. Yet he will never be truly dead as long as every single one of us has one good memory of him. I have plenty of them, but I would like to tell you how we met…” Now he had to pause because he could not see anymore. He closed his eyes for a second and felt a tear leaving his eye, gliding down his cheek.
He did not let any more tears escape.
”We were only five and in preschool. We just moved and I knew no one. No one wanted to talk to me or play with me, except for J.
He would
ask me to sit next to him at lunch when everyone else told me to go away, he
would offer me his pencil when I just stood somewhere waiting for someone to
play with me. And he would ask his mom if I could come and visit them. We were
friend ever since.”
He fell silent and got back to his place without further comment.
He fell silent and got back to his place without further comment.
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