Looking Back into Minimalist Emptiness

 Because they had all used up their arguments; they had sailed unconsciously for a long time in the moving waters of life, when aching, ambiguous doubts were deliberately turned against them. In troubled eyes, suspicious doubt struck home. Those who don't bargain couldn't even give a servant a fool, and "some" might not have really wanted to forgive this. 

This is a common and dirty game, because over time, everything and everyone has become a distorted, grotesque shadow of themselves. Artificial time limits have been set as a kind of digital obstacle for the unsuspecting, in case they change their minds or back down; happy ending instincts can no longer function even a little bit on their own. Without some minimalist, truncated self-confidence - fear -, it's not even possible to move. 

With a sidelong, suspicious gaze, one cautiously looks back at oneself, a bit like the occasional Hamlet fool or the neurotic. Oppressive labyrinths embedded in the cogs of the brain; inexorable synonyms of self-observation. The paradox of relationships and connections, as if it had always existed, increasingly obvious, irrefutable. The boundless demands - it is true - still knock on the door from time to time, but maybe not for that long.

 - It would have been good to consciously avoid the so-called somersault slaps. It is not a good idea to cling to the unfoundedness of instinctive responses either; no matter where we want to start, shame or a fresh start are a cornerstone, if we have to go, everyone has a choking fear, i.e. wondering what will happen in the next minute. The voluntarily accepted limit no longer sobers a person, but can make them increasingly stressed.