Essay: Lefteris Anestis
Translation: Valentina Papandroulidaki
How many times have you said “I’m fine” and then let the sorrow bring darkness inside you, without anyone knowing?
It is bad to be miserable.
How many times have you held back your tears and let them water your soul?
It is bad to cry.
How many times have you felt totally empty and dressed up to go out?
It is bad to be pitied.
How many times have you said “I can” while feeling mutilated?
It is bad to be weak.
We are looking for someone to love our imperfections, which we ourselves hide in the first place. We hide the truth about us. Maybe we are also afraid of it.
And then how will we really get to love ourselves?
And then how will we really be loved?
We cling to the trauma, keeping an eye on it in case it opens up once again. Being afraid of getting hurt, we prefer passivity, safety, security, nothingness. But the trauma is you. Can’t you see it?
And then the night falls merciless. And it reminds you. It reminds you of dreams. It reminds you of all those you pretend you have forgotten. And you toss and turn. And you create images. And you imagine. And you live. And you think. And you don’t sleep. You are in agony.
And then the sun will rise up again.
And you will wear the fake smile and the beautiful clothes and you’ll say: