crying to 99 luftballons
you don’t even speak german. but last week you memorized the translated lyrics to ‘99 luftballons.’ you’d heard it was sad - reading them touched you more than expected.
today, driving to the big town, you had an urge to put the song on. normally you’d queue up an album or podcast - something continuous to keep the long highway company, to feel a little less alone.
the opening refrain had you welling up immediately.
you were transported to cold-war germany - but you didn’t analyze, didn’t get fascinated with the era. you were just a kid when the wall came down. still, you remember your father’s voice as you watched people stand on the wall with sledgehammers, live on tv, ‘remember this moment.’
no, you cried in solidarity with a people whom you couldn’t possibly know what they were going through - you grew up in a country which has never known war on its own soil.
perhaps when you hurt your wrists - the catalyst for this blog - the floodgates opened.
you were helpless then. isolated. hopped up on opiates, crying in desperation.
but today was different - you cried because you connected with people. the whole point of this blog. and it wasn’t desperate sobbing - it was compassion. a single tear running down your right cheek sealed it.
you played the song one more time.