The tale of the sad sadness
It was a small woman who came along the dusty dirt road. She was probably quite old, but her gait was slightly and her smile shone like that of a reckless girl. At a being which she stopped and looked down. She could not recognize much. The being that since sat in the dust of the road seemed almost körperlos.Es recalled a flannel blanket with human contours. The little woman bent down a little and asked, 'Who are you? " Two almost lifeless eyes looked tired on. 'I? I am the sadness', the voice whispered, haltingly, and so softly that it was hard to hear. 'Oh, the sadness! " cried the little woman happy, as if they would welcome an old friend. 'You know me? " asked the sadness suspicious. 'Of course I know you! Again and again once you've been my companion on the road. " 'Yes, but ...', suspected the sadness, "Why not then you flee from me? Have you no Fear? " 'Why should I run away from you, my dear? You know yourself very well that you keep up pace with every fleeting. But what I want to ask you: Why are you so discouraged? 'I ... I'm sad, "replied the gray figure with a broken voice. The little old woman sat down beside her. 'So you are sad, "she said, nodding her head sympathetically. 'Tell me, what makes you so depressed. " The Sadness sighed deeply. Should that this time someone will listen? How often she wished that. 'Oh, you know,' she began hesitating and wondering, 'is it that just nobody likes me. It happens to my Determination to go among the people and stay for some time with them. But when I come to them, they are scared. They are afraid of me and avoid me like the plague. " The sadness swallowed hard. 'They have invented sentences, that they want to banish me. They say: Shut up, life is fun. And their false laughter leads to stomach cramps and difficulty breathing. They say: Praise be to what makes us tough. And then they get chest pain. They say: You have to tear. And they felt the tearing in the shoulders and back. They say: Only weaklings cry. And beyond the pent-up tears almost their heads. Or, they numb themselves with alcohol and drugs, so they do not have to feel me. " 'Oh yes', confirmed the old woman, "such people are often met me already." The sadness still fell a little more into herself. 'And I want to help people but only. If I am close to them, they can find themselves. I help them to build a nest to nurse their wounds. Who is sad, has a very thin skin. Some regret breaking up again like a badly healed wound, and that hurts a lot. But only those who allow the grief and all the unshed tears crying, it can really heal his wounds. But people do not even know me to help them. Instead, they put on a dazzling smile about their scars. Or they put a thick armor of bitterness. " The sadness was silent. Her crying was only weakly, then more and finally in despair. The little old woman took the sunken down into her comforting arms. How soft and tender she feels, she thought, tenderly stroking the quivering bundle. "Wines only sadness," she whispered lovingly, 'Rest a little, so you can gain power again. You shall henceforth not walk alone anymore. I will accompany you, so that the chill does not become worse. " The sadness stopped crying. She sat up and looked surprised at her new companion, 'But ... -but who are really you? " 'I? " said the little old woman with a smile, and then she smiled again recklessly like a little girl. 'I am the hope. "
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