Didn't catch the plane

Trip Start Feb 05, 2006
1
24
33
Trip End Jun 30, 2006


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Flag of Russia  ,
Friday, June 9, 2006

Last night I received a phone call from the company. Thereafter I was overcome by nervous break-down while Natalie, her mom and I sat in the theatre, watching an excellent show. Just that I didn't participate, I couldn't enjoy it so much. I saw people moving and laughing in front of me. Meanwhile I was sweating and feeling uncomfortable. Panic. Everything around me was filled with darkness and noise. The actors on the stage moved in strange ways. They moved like crazy thoughts through artificial sky. Everything around me was artificial. Especially the laughter of the people. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take this one minute longer. I would stand up right at this moment and run away. I thought. I decided I would do it. I decided that I would jump off my seat and run away. Run where? I didn't know. Just run away as fast as I could. Panic. More Panic. Where are the "DON'T PANIC!" signs when you really need them? I wanted to run. Run. Run. Run. Hurry around Moscow aimlessly. Run to Kasachstan. Cross Afghanistan per pedus. Just run. Maybe run to China. I felt it's not right. I felt all this China stuff is not right. What could I do? It was just a feeling. I still wanted to run. Now would be the time. Now would be the moment. This moment would never return. If I wanted to run, I should do it now. Run where? Where would I run? I ran all over America once. It didn't help me. I ran from Stuttgart to Tbilissi. It didn't help me either. No need in running away. You have to grow up. You have to become a man. You have to stay and face your problems. RUN AWAY, Basty, RUN AWAY! The voices were screaming inside my head. The Russian actors where screaming something on the stage. I didn't understand it. Everybody was laughing. Terrible laughter. Sweat poured out of my forehead. I was completely soaked in salty water. My shirt was wet. Wet. Run, Basty, Run. Just the thoughts of running away exhausted me. I was so exhausted. My head hurt. My stomach went crazy. I had to go to the toilet. No way out. The people were sitting everywhere. There were chairs and people everywhere. Only one exit. I would have had to cross through the performance. Or through the audience. I didn't want to cross through anywhere or anybody. I just wanted to stay in that seat and die. Actually I didn't know what I wanted. I just wanted to live. But at the same moement I felt like dying. I felt like there was no choice. I felt like all the choices in my live had been made for me but not by me. What is all that crap about choice anyway? Who really has a choice about anything besides the stuff he or she consumes. That's another thought. I just read it in a newspaper. Anyway. I was sitting there and sweating. Nobody there to rescue me. I wanted to cry. Cry like a little child. But I was too proud to cry. What could I do? Panic. Panic everywhere.

I didn't leave the show. I endured the pain. The clapping hands were my salvation. Thank you. Thank you for ending this play. I know, it must have been wonderful. The actress was famous. The people were famous and prestigious. So many old people in such nice clothes. I ran to the toilet. I wiped all the sweat off my face with some toilet paper. I washed my face and whiped it clean. Outside Natalie and her mom were waiting for me.

The next morning when I woke up all I felt was red and black. I decided not to fly. Something told me not to go to China.
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