Part 5

The escape

This vague feeling sometimes overcomes me, as if a voice shouted in my head. Where are you? Where are you? I cannot explain it and I also do not know where from this voice comes. Sometimes if I have a courageous day, I think that it is Tina’s a voice that Tina searches me. The pure wishful thinking is natural. Why Tina should search me, it is more than 2 years. Tina is a wonderful intelligent woman she has found certainly somebody with whom she is happy. Be somebody him the luck with her together to appreciating, somebody she makes so happy as she earns it. A task with I have failed.

I have thought over and over again about the affair. How it could come in addition, when it started to crumble between us, when I have lost the control. I have thought that if I could find only the precise cause, I could repair everything again. If I knew what has exactly gone wrong, I could fix it again. As naively I was to be believed that it had to be an explicit event which has brought the disaster in the roles. Today I know that the decay came stealthily. It was no certain event which has released all that. These were rather the small things which were the beginning from the end. The small thing which weigh all the more if they are absent. These were not the whole set-tos, they belong to it. It is the routine of the everyday life which blunts one, to do not leave to the other really to listen, to see the other real. It is the routine of the everyday life the delusive picture of the security everything remains as well as is it, provided. The power of the custom allows crippling the love to an automatism she takes her very own dynamism, her strength and energy from the love, spreads, instead, comfort which suffocates every passion.

And today I know how comfortable I was. I had accepted so a lot as natural. Tina it gets the child, Tina at home stoutly, Tina it throws her job, Tina to me my suits from the laundry gets, my position in the C.A.C, my career, my arrogant strength … I had created my small world and nobody might deviate from my plan, I had not done the trouble to myself to question what others wanted, but above all also what I really did not want. I was my own demiurge who has created a utopia which was condemned to the failure. Nothing builds up what on a lie, can hold everlasting. And my life was a lie, I was a lie.

The excellent, self-confident strong Bette Porter, what nonsense. There was days, there I would best have cried like a small child, would have crept away in a corner and would never again have come out. Nothing is more delusive than the facade of the strength. And pride is the root of the evil or better said misunderstood pride. He does not open a vicious circle from one any more comes out. The more one depends on foreign help, the more categorically one will reject just this. And, besides, these are two easy words which can change your world: "Help me!" This is so easy and however, thus hard. To have refused the absurd feeling if one can be helped, as if one was omnipotent. To be the self overestimation a superman who makes everything alone.

Until the day comes in the facade tears agrees, in that the foundation starts to crumble. If the self-built up pressure starts to paralyze one itself. Where every day becomes the torture where little things become invincible obstacles and the thought does tears in the eyes in the morning. If the internal feebleness, day by day a little piece of soul kills and only an unemotional one operate admits. Every day one converts to himself a little piece more into a robot whose only claim is to function only anyhow. From then on the breakdown is only a question of the time.