Windmills

Windmills
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I stare out of the window.
It's still early, the sun’s just rising and clearing the morning mists.
The sky is clear and blue.
The wheels of the windmills are just turning.
The world continues to rotate and is in motion.
Not me.
I’m just sitting here.
Unshaven. Unwashed. For four days. So what?
Today I have to leave the house. Not like this. The facade must be "kept up".
So I will make myself "presentable".
But what for ? Why for? For whom?
I might as well disappear, hardly a handful of people would notice.
I am a "nebbich" : Someone who is believed that someone else has entered the room while I left.
No, that's not quite true : my (former) employees miss me. So I have left a "footprint".
But unfortunately not on a private, personal level.
There, in the end, I was always just the "nice guy", the "friend", but not more."
That hurts. It tears me apart.
I know you're supposed to "love yourself", but I'm sort of like Sleeping Beauty : I need to be "kissed awake" before I shine in full glory.
Love makes me the person I can be.
The person I want to be.
Love is the propellant.
Without love, I am nothing.
I'm only just functional.
Barely.
I look out of the window.
It's still early, the sun is just rising and clearing the morning mists.
The sky is clear and blue.
The wheels of the windmills are just turning.
The world continues to rotate and is in motion.
Not me.
I’m just sitting here.