Let’s find time for those we love, for being human – to another human…

It’s hard to explain to people what they haven’t tried on their skin.

It’s hard to draw blue to one who walks in the dark.

It’s hard to describe a tune to someone who can’t hear it.

And the hardest thing … for people is how to be human.

Because today honestly, humanity resembles a caricature. We are so fake that we get scared when somebody is not, when he is himself. And we just don’t know where to put him, in which box to put him in, to stigmatize him, to explain to him to ourselves. It does not go. So then we say he’s crazy, eccentric, weird …

It is not. He is only what most forgot to be – unique. And above all authentic.

I didn’t know what I was going to write about today, as it often is. The column becomes something I ‘do’ on the go, between commitments, and the total chase that has now, given the end of the year, shifted to fifth without asking me.

And while I was so brainwashed by what was waiting for me later tonight, what I had to do this week and whom I forgot to call for coffee, it dawned on me that I had not answered Domagoj. A friend I have known for years and whom I have not seen for years, because music (and our collage) connected us a long time ago, and last week I met him by chance at a promotion at our city library.

Domagoj no longer works as an economist but interviews musicians, writers and all creative people, and writes like I do, so I decided to look at his columns, because, nevertheless, I promised, and I was interested in how he thinks and how he expresses himself.

So I scrolled between the columns and came across a text whose title intrigued me at the first “You never know when you are going to see someone for the last time …”. I stopped for a moment or two and thought of all those people I adore and haven’t seen in a whole century. Something gripped my heart and I promised myself that it would not take a week or even a day, lest those who were most important to me not receive at least a silly message. At least a little dumb smiley so they know they are important to me, that I just love them, and that I miss them.

I clicked on the text and read it in my breath. And then she sat down and decided to send him a message, some dumb one, because I was still impressed with the text and didn’t know how to write it – ‘Hey, you put all I thought on the paper! It is as if you have read my mind and delivered everything I have been feeling for so long and that absolutely no one understands… or only a few do. ‘

Because really who understands us who work all the days of the year?

Who are at work even when not at work? We who always have to be online and accessible, whose jobs are ‘virtual’ and which people don’t trust when they are told that we really don’t always have time, that is, we actually only have it on a dropper …

Maybe the doctors believe it. Maybe cops … maybe.

Still looking at his text, I realized that people couldn’t understand what they hadn’t tried themselves. That it is easiest to condemn what is not understood and to get support in our society is something like believing in Santa Claus and Unicorn.

I don’t want you to misunderstand me, I don’t think all people are the same and all people are bad. In fact, in the last year or so, I have met many incredible people who have turned the world upside down in a positive way, but… still the majority is the one who rules. And this majority is narrow-minded, distorted and in many respects completely blind.

The same majority belong to many who have known me my whole life. And those I’ve been friends with for years because we are bound by school, jobs, socializing… whatever. The ones I have never been to at will, who have tried in every way to change my mindset and genetic code. Those who resent me for not marrying before I was 30 and giving birth to at least four children, because I failed them as a woman. Those who don’t understand why I just have to write, why I have to have this ‘weird’ job and why I can’t ‘like all the normal world’, work in someone else’s office from 9 to 5, bite my nails from paycheck to paycheck, and like them pretend I’m happy with that.

But I can’t.

I don’t fit. I never have and never will. And honestly I don’t even want that.

I don’t know how to do ‘normal’ jobs. I don’t know how to keep quiet when something hurts. I cannot pretend that I am okay with everything that is not right in this world. And I don’t know how to turn off my laptop just because it’s some holiday, so that’s what I’m expected to do. I’m shutting it off not because of the holidays, but for people who are important to me.

This is what really struck me in the text, as an arrow straight to the chest – the realization that jobs and responsibilities set us apart from those we love who give meaning and color to our lives.

And that we are forced to spend a lot of time so that we can only survive in our beautiful countries, which by too many things are simply not beautiful. And the people around us have made it that way. We actually just started to turn ugly.

By pointing the finger and neglecting the needs of our loved ones, and even ourselves, because we agree to live like that, we agree to be the cattle of a tiny tooth that grinds as it arrives.

We approach it every day. We condemn, judge, spit, point our finger but don’t remember to help. We write slimy statues where we devalue the human to the bone without realizing that we are actually devaluing ourselves. We point the finger at the teachers, because they have dared to stand up for themselves and their right to be paid fairly and treated like PEOPLE! We didn’t remember to go out and support them, but now we are surprised that the unions played them … unions where people sit, who, like most, think only of their ass.

We are actually dealing with anything and everything that is not our concern, and most of all with other people’s lives that concern us the least. We are not dealing with ourselves and the things that should change in and of ourselves. We do not remember to call the people we love because we cherish the naive assumption that they will always be there… even though we know they will not. Nobody will.

We live in our delusions, in our boxes, and in them we shape justice to a world that we do not seek to understand, much less help. Because here – we know everything, but we don’t really know anything.

We don’t know how to live. We don’t know how to be the most important thing – humans.

And somehow at the end of this text, I feel endless sadness because I am aware that apart from changing myself, from day to day, every day of my life, I cannot really do anything else…

But I can love, those special people in my life and I can be there for them. And I can strive to understand, all those who do not understand me. As strange as that may seem to you.

Because at the end of the story… change has to start from someone, somewhere… right?