Every man has one or several friends. This is generally life so. This friend helps one where one only can, takes everything away from one, this so far is just possible off and supports one in all life things and questions.
The other friend simply is up only there, gives oneself airs and, Na is pretending just like a true friend or rather like a pal. Everybody has a man someplace he can rely on any time. There is no man who is alone in the world, who must struggle through alone without strange help. Everybody knows this and trades after that.
But there is Roland Duemont there. A Frenchman who lives in America. Oh, this does not care to be more exact in a larger town actually around nearby of ... He could live everywhere. In New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Paris, London, Brussels. Even in Hamburg, Berlin or Munich. He is everywhere at home and nowhere. He is the typical person who lives and ekes out his existence in a town.
His career is the usual as they so generally experience people nothing special, and lived
anyway, childhood. The opinion to have loved them, children to the world put, was although she is doubtful sometime a girl become acquainted, whether this made sense and then lived. Lived not in the lap of luxury but anyway well. He had for certain as other debts, sometime, but these paid themselves like by themselves someplace and one had the perspective, they were finally gone. It for certain then represented to acquire something again why one then would make debts again. But he and the many others Duemont did not think of it. Why also? Why should one make thoughts on it to himself what would be within a couple of years? He lived here and today.
It did not come him into the meaning that his life could change once. Why then also? It had friends if these do not keep either perhaps but friends flat. It coped with the money to be more exact it did not live on the rightful money badly, its wife lived in the meantime at home and led the household or this one cared for children who needed all their welfare as she used to say always, since they were still dependent people. You had to be cared for and for this reason she could not contribute to the general cost of living.
The man obeyed his destiny, slaved away in the work, the whole money dragged home and the heavily rightful toads blued the dear spouse together with children. It was of the opinion and it did not stand alone in the world there that the only ones only the household keeps hard work and the bringing up of children is. No profession of the world was so difficult like this housewife. Most men still made not even the attempt to change this opinion of the women. And Roland also let his wife in the belief that this is so. But the day comes himself more, at which, at the one once, change something at the different one of some in his life should. It cuts the one or the different one down sometime. He then does not not understand the world and his environment already any more at all. Before a rake, full of pleasure, always good on this and no fear in front of nothing.
Roland overnight was an apprehensive type no longer capably of employing somehow let alone going to work himself. Every vigour and every enthusiasm had disappeared in Roland. Fear fulfilled his life. A fear which he could not define exactly but it was there. A bullshit fear. He was not understood any more. Why was this so with
him? So one asked him the question again and again. For his wife a world caved in. It had a man suddenly who only still sat there and was interested in nothing more. Although this one tried again and again to give itself and his life a meaning but did not get the curve somehow.
It did not understand Roland any more and turned to other things. The man had you got useless. It uselessly same, so judged for her and for itself. And this was more than only a reason for her also to look for another man. Finally this one had her, these wanted to be satisfied. The man of one's own this cannot do any more, then one replaces him and if. Like a spare part at the car. If the battery is faulty, one goes to the shop and fetches a new one. And what had to come came so. She left it and took all its money and the household along: Very much he loved these his child also had to go with her.
Space let in it tried a comeback of woman and friends.
Roland lived, now between two block of buildings was actual with a window to the busiest street of
the town and on the back of the house still a window to a dooryard in which children shrieked.
Or perhaps was it a circular saw which gave it wailing loudly of itself? Also not cared actually. He lived here in these two rooms and tried to eke out his existence. He had never cared about household. But he was asked now since he lived alone. The work in the household was quickly going on for him from the fingers. What did him pushed, was the solitude? Because he was alone in this flat which seemed to be gloomy for him. He turned on as many lights as only possible, but it got brighter around not a tittle in this flat. On the contrary, he always thought that way inside it got all the darker the more light he kindled.
The light from its life had disappeared.
He really wanted no longer much only a friend in his life. A friend who stood behind it, who agreed to help his friend again and again. But he did not come. Roland remained quite alone. And this loneliness lived on his nerves. His thoughts got caught in a net full of doubt and self-destruction. It came to the end again and again, it was alone.
However, Roland had never been alone until there. He did not know this feeling take and see a look to the ceiling as this came towards him always further. How the walls themselves slowly to the centre of the room shoved and threatened to squash it. It tried to escape, to escape from the walls rushing at it. But where should it go? He had neither the strength for nor the courage to leave this room of the safety. At the moment he had this one the only friend. They gave him protection and support the solitude in the four walls in his short-term situation. And but they crushed it at the same time.
They no did not crush it but wanted to destroy it. Destroying it. The rooms of its refuge and safety.
But if the friends were not his four of their own walls, then who they were? Again and again he shouted out of himself and no-one heard it anyway: „Where are you my friend who supports me and holds me?“
But no answer came from the silence of the room. It remained quiet.
By work tried something to find courage to face life to maintain its cost of living which it finally had to deny. It followed a regulated work in the morning and in the evening it went into its four walls. Day in, day out. And whenever he was in his four walls, he prayed: „When you come my friend?“
But he so often shouted this word out, too, no-one wanted or could hear them. And he lived so in a daily round which made forget the true real world around him.
And it got into its room in the evening and pleaded with folded hands again and again: „ Where are you my friend? Who identical or what you are. Only come to me.“
Bathed in sweat he woke up on a Sunday morning. He had had a nightmare in the night. In the dream he had got mixed up with his old friends again. The joys which, before, he had always experienced when he still was together with them were happy with them he went to them and experienced everyone. But he found this a nightmare today and now here. Because they were not his friends. He
waited for his only true friend. A friend who took him with all his strength. The paradise showed this one to him.
And this friend came. He came to it and spoke with it. „Hello Roland!“
Roland looked around in the room. But he saw nobody. No-one who could these words have told him was there. „Roland, do you not want to talk with me?“
He jumped. „Who is there? Who has these words to me?“
„Who should have these words to you already if not your friend? Your friend you wait already so long for.“
„Reveal yourself. I let myself be seen.“ Roland stormed rooms of his flat by the two and looked for the body this voice was part of. The sweat ran for it down the face in currents.
„Roland, do you really want a body to this voice? Or it is not more important for you to have a
friend whom you can hear. All your old friends had a body and what did you get out of it? You are quite alone now and have lost all these friends.“
„But I really cannot talk with the wall. I really must know with whom I talk.“ He got more and more nervous. He got more and more nervous. You pushed the water from the body as a man expresses a sponge.
The voice was silent.
Roland ran with fear by the whole flat once again, however, could discover nobody. He was alone in this flat. Did he already have hallucinations?
Perhaps his six senses played a trick on him. But these were not hallucinations. It was not so far sunk yet.
It cooked itself, a coffee in its little kitchenette sat down at its table and slurped it into itself.
The flat remained quiet. One could hear a pin falling how before. He was alone.
"Roland, you are not alone. Here is your friend."
He shot with his whole body at up. It tore down the table and the coffee flowed over the floor.
"Who talks to me? Let yourself be seen."
"I have told you before a body is not important for a true friend. It is only important that he is there, and I am there."
Roland calmed down slowly. This voice somehow instilled confidence into him. A confidence which he had not known already any more for a long time. His nerves calmed down and the pores discontinued the water production slowly. He made a second attempt to drink a coffee. Before, still mopped the floor spilled by it up, the table which it still built sat down to again, and tried to calm down. Yes, it got more quiet again. The voice had something at itself, but he could not take hold of it. He could not explain himself why he found confidence.
"Do you feel better now?"
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