I’m putting up christmas decorations. I love it, I love christmas, I love to prepare for christmas. I
love these beautiful decorations I bought the last christmas. Especially the tiny lights that make
everything so atmospheric. So beautiful.
But would feel so good to have someone to share this with, someone to call and tell about this,
or get a sudden call from a friend who would have wanted to hear what I’m up to.
But there’s no one. This loneliness feels in my chest, in my upper back. Pressure. Suffocation
of some kind.
Tears don’t fit together with me holding in my hands these cute Christmas elves, flowers and silver ribbons.
But it feels so good to cry, and at the same time, it breaks me. Because I know I have no friends, no one who
would be here and share, out of pure willingness to do it. I’m not special to anyone. It hurts.
But I’m not really alone. Not at all. My dog feels my sadness and lays down on my feet, and my cat
comes to push me and look at me with his rounded innocent eyes. Also, my wine keeps fermenting, it plops seldom but enough so that I know that she is not stressed, she lets all the pressure out, I’m so happy for her.
Forever free, forever expressing herself as she wishes.
And when I go out, I hold hands with the spruce, my trusted and wise.
The moon.
And the presence of The Endless, where ever I go, even those moments when the Moon sleeps.
These are my friends.
Beautiful.
Thank you forever!
If I just could forget once again how it feels to have a human connection, I could let go of the
sadness, and let go, together with my nature.
