I can´t seem to recall

I can`t seem to recall the point at which I lost my interest in almost everything. Or, let me say, I lost the value of importance for certain things. For example, my property, my belongings, few of them, as they were. I just couldn´t see the purpose anymore, let me correct myself again, as I can see the purpose, of a shaving-kit, or a record or just anything. But I just couldn´t see the point. I had known its utility, or had an affection, but it was gone. Well, I was still using soap, wearing clothes, but of mere practical tactic, and I indeed had lost my personal, intimate affection to the stuff I owned. The record became just a piece of plastic wrapped in rather nice artwork, the music stayed in me. I had to get rifd of it. My extreme became the loss. I was at work and thought of nothing but how to get rid of all this stuff. I had become a burden. I wished nothing more, than to get rid of it.

I had become sick of the urge to own. One of many urges, like the one to believe, that work was any good. I knew, it was just so you could own.

So the urge to own, owns you, and you have to work first, tow own, and anything you actually need, you have to own first. Well, you are therefore probably capable of owning just anything, but before you can get to that, everything else will own you and live up to it.

All the short-lived satisfaction owning brought me, maybe after purchasing a nice shirt, was make-believe. I would find myself at home, looking at whatever I bought, thinking, why?

The lost feeling. A feeling of loss. Or loneliness. Accompanied by urges and the search for something that wasn´t even true, something yopu would never be able to find, anyway. And on this great search for the great, I overlooked everything else, that was good and already here. Within my reach, close to my grip, already in my lap, all the stuff that is made of stars.

You can´t own friendship, you can´t own a relationship. But you can make the impression of it being so. You can lead through owning and preparing the guilt of owing in someone. You can force your own loss on someone, then you own, what is most to the utter most despite, to have someone in your hand. As I had gone too far, as I realized what person I really had become, or always had been, the only way possible for me became clear. To pack my bags, disappear and leave this place. It´s good I knew a way that promised me not a solution, but consoled me.,

I had heard of a place, and I knew, it was there, I needed to go, the curiosity pained me. I had to find out. I just had to. I had called up Saturn, and it wanted me. So I left.

R.M. Parkner The Saturn-Diaries