This text is about a girl that is without rest, without a goal, a mythical creature without boundaries, of a creature, wants the good, and does evil. This story is your story. Good afternoon, Mrs. Unsinn.
Anna Unsinn, you are. You’ve got two heads, many hearts, but just a life. This is your destiny, that is your burden and joy at the same time. Your world is colorful, as long as you choose without thinking. Then start thinking and you bang with full force on the gray concrete. You walk back and forth between principles and insanity, are satisfied, as long as the possibilities of hiding. And then, when the opportunity is favorable, then your feeling exploding and all you’re doing is overwhelmed with carefree glitter particles. You you turn and dance and shake you, desire you until the gold to the ground, just like you. The black suction, the monster, the conscience, pull you into the hole remains in the no air to breathe. This is your story. You can handle.
Yesterday, you were holding the hand that gives you security. Today, you feel a strange face between your alcohol wet fingers. You’re free and young and wild. What happens now, nobody can take friends. Get out of the nest out of what is your life. So plenty of room for new remains between the breadcrumbs and wine bottles from the supermarket. The mouth pull up, as far as you can, everything that is still unexplored choked. Taste what you’re hungry, but be careful that the stomach turns around friends. Because even a morning follows on every night. Yesterday ugly looks in the light of day.
Is boring to you, you’re happy, but murder is stopped. You’re the devil in a dress, well, but cruel. If you had only two lives, just as many as you have heads. The one the other good and satisfied, thirsty and without scruples. You can’t have everything at the same time. But you can take it. If it is an asshole, or has no principles or freedom above all.
And then comes the moment in which you have to decide: Freethinker or asshole or both? You’re neither, merely restless. Just woman nonsense with two heads and too many hearts. Do you believe in the great love and loyalty and all that. To your shade attacks for you until the fear of being alone, grabs you until your ego demands a new coat of paint. Then you put on your Sunday dress and will hunt you down. You grab from the desire to be, to feel you alive the desire not from the game. Your second head turns around the neck the other, until he is quiet and no longer resists. Listen to you in the circle turn, because you know what’s coming now: the dull feeling in your stomach, the guilt. Even though nothing happened. A harmless flirt, maybe a kiss. And still it was too much.
Repression, despair, curse. You and too much feeling. Friends hack off the wrong head, RIP’s heart out, until only one remains. Only then you will know what you want. Or perish in the certainty that you will be never satisfied with what you’ve got.