Platzangst

Sometimes love is not about embraces, but about cautious distance. When you want to dissolve into another person, but inside everything tightens, as if your heart is not an organ, but a cramped room without windows. The light flickers, the air buzzes with your own thoughts, and every attempt to let someone in ends with an echo as loud as fear.

The world around you is ablaze with lights, but inside, there is only darkness with a pulse. Everything is too close, too loud, too real. And there is no escape from this, neither through logic nor music. You just want someone to stay close, without coming inside. Because closer is already painful, and further away is completely empty.