Isolation call

Today, I called different people, because I really just needed to call someone and hear another person‘s voice and feel a little less alone.

I called my grandmother, because her birthday was last sunday and she did not pick up the phone by then (can old people please stop doing this while a virus is out for them?), and within that conversation, she asked me three times when I would be done with studying. Well, with library visits strictly limited, friends and professors only virtual available – I think tomorrow?!

Then I called my mother. I always enjoy calling her, and I miss seing her, and I know that she is chronically depressed. But calling her to not get the slightest words of support was hard. Really hard. It was too much for me, while she was pointing out that she was not getting along with her current boyfriend and that I was so much better off than her. And that I was crazy for complaining about that store person making me cry the other day, and I could not take it anymore and told her that she was the worst mother in the world and hung up the phone.

In the end, I was talking to a friend who was loaded with own problems and reading Schopenhauer way too much and who was telling me that we were always alone, and that there was no hope, not ever.

And now I‘m sitting in the kitchen with Layla, eating pistachio flavoured ice cream and drinking wine, and I‘m asking: „Why is livin in this world so painful?“
And my witch picks up another frozen raspberry to have it melt on her tongue, as she says: „Because you once were brave enough to dream for a better world.”