Dear Indifference and Serenity,

I need you to come hand in hand. Why is it that you are slipping away from me in moments in which I could use you most? It is amazing how the lack of your sweet embrace pushes down my head and my shoulders, leaving me in a posture and with the feeling of resentment and resignation, a weight only an angry person can bear.

And it does make me angry, all this nonsense. What is wrong with me? I have a hard time accepting and tolerating things that matter only momentarily, and thus I would be wise to let them go, but somehow I often fail.

Consequently, the quest ahead of me is learning to know you in a different and better way, Indifference and Serenity. You must stay with me, and I must invite you in, all the time. If you want to leave me, I will beg you to stay. I do not like myself as much when I have lost you. Then I am not the person I feel that I should be.

I need suggestions. How do I learn to retreat into a world of grace and serenity? A world that feels as if I and everybody else were walking constantly on sundown-colored clouds.

I have already tried waking up in the morning deciding that I was in a good mood. I tried willing myself into a good mood. I often even succeed for a little while as my temper indeed can be bright and shiny. But even if I rode to that place and those people that I constantly question on a unicorn with a golden mane, there would still be those people and so many undeniable, irritating facts that I would once more be left without you, Indifference and Serenity.

Dear Shades of Red,

welcome to the sky outside my window. You look wonderful. It had been raining all day and no beauty other than the faces of gray seemed close.

Then the rain stopped and the wind came. The sky was transformed into a living canvas. All your colors were graciously tossed onto the heads and in the skies of the city.

Darkness hides behind your blazing haze and it lingers until the storm and the night have carried all colors away from the sky to beyond the horizon.

So sublime a sight does fill my heart with more than I can take. The evening sky can be so terribly beautiful.

Dear Other People,

the term tolerance is misleading. To be tolerant should be divided into two similar but yet different words. To be tolerant would then mean to be open to the world, to new ideas, to other individuals and to be indifferent to the prejudices one had. To be tolerating would then be the other expression because if one were tolerating, one would still be affected by annoyances while quietly swallowing those deep down. To be tolerating is active, something one actually has to actively do, while being tolerant is something like a state of being or a certain characteristic.

However, dear Other People, I might be tolerant in general, especially in the sense of justice and political correctness, but I am not very good at tolerating. Many of you annoy me. Many of you should dissolve into thin air or crumble to dust to be carried away by the wind into oblivion.

And you are everywhere. Yesterday at work I had to deal with different varieties of Other People. That two arrogant women who thought they were so incredibly irresistible and knew everything so much better than the actual experts. Or that weak man who would not step up. Or the other man with the pretty curls who is a clown and who annoys me every other five minutes. Those Other People were so dumb, so pretentious and annoying. Why do I have to deal with this nonsense? In those moments, I transform. I transform into a mass of disgust and hatred. I want to knock sense into them. Not in the classic sense of a good beating; more in the metaphorical sense, imaginative but therefore so much worse. It makes me mad having to deal with the Other People even at work, a so called professional environment. But it is especially those aggravating Other People who claim professionalism. Professionalize my behind! They know nothing of professionalism and still they pretend to be worthy of what they disgusting little minds desire. In my opinion, they only deserve excreta on their desks or in their purses.

As you can read, Other People, you annoy me very much. I prefer to be surrounded by The People I Like. Those are just great, even when they annoy me.