I can bend in two different ways. The free side that enjoys everything that is loose or stuck and is completely living in a moment. Like tightrope walking above the crowd, I confidently walk my chosen but dangerous path. Funambulism. In a beautiful, glittery spandex suit. Proud of my colors, beaming with joyful pride. Unashamed and powerful. With a heart pounding through my chest, I seek out every thrill that puts me on the edge as I dive into dark pools in a dream state. I know exactly what I’m doing. Calculated, carefully planned, and full of self-assurance, I smile at life and approach the inevitable end of the show. The handsome man walking with his head held high. The side that has been built up through life experience is full of self-confidence and is strong in his balance. Just try to throw him off. I can’t fall anymore. And if I did, I don’t think that it would even hurt me anymore. So try me.
The other side stares immobilized upwards from the stretched-out net underneath the rope. I behold my other side, lifeless, like a spider waiting for its prey to finally fly into its web. Just like the man above, but with completely different intentions and tactics. Cunning and nasty in his actions, but fragile in his feelings. Obsessive about all kinds of projects, he bites his fangs into them and doesn’t let go. Every chance is an opportunity to prove his worth. For he will always feel some form of worthless. He is endlessly jealous and stubborn. A bit melodramatic, but always poetic in his ways. He was the boy who used to sit in the back of the classroom without friends. Which has made him perfectly fine with operating on his own. He was the teenager who burned his poetry and lyrics in secret on the beach, afraid that anyone would ever find out that he had feelings. Only for him to share them endlessly as he grew up. He was a young adult who put too much trust in strangers and, in the end, paid the price for it. It’s the side that is constantly upset and enraged. The side that constantly falls.
As my mind wanders elsewhere, I unscrew one of my last light bulbs from the socket to find out if the bulb has a large or a small fitting. Unfortunately, it is a large fitting, and I seem to have bought two brand-new bulbs with a small fitting. I should have checked my lights before I bought the new ones. I sigh as the boiled and dried-up corpse of a beautiful ladybug is forever stuck to the old lamp. Sometimes we balance so close to the edge of danger that we succumb to it. Or, in this case, burn alive. I hope that I will find a way to keep my balance.
Martijn Winkel 