When my husband was in prison
Well he still is in prison, but not my husband anymore
I thought it would be like in those beautiful films with hap-
      py endings
Because I thought I loved him

I came to see him five times
And although I could come more often than that
I didn’t want to
It really takes a couple of lives to learn seeing your own life
      going nowhere

Every time he told me he would be out soon
And everything I had to do was wait
But it is never that easy is it
And apart from waiting
I had to look in the mirror every day realizing
That I did’t eat enough, did’t sleep enough, did’t go out,
      did’t see my friends or my family
That I did’t actually live
I was waiting

I’ve never seen a single person
For whom waiting did any good
It certainly did not for me

I was sitting on my bed
Every morning
And every evening
Counting seconds
Counting moments
Counting happy days
And when I reached nine
I always had to stop
And I didn’t know whether it was nine seconds, nine weeks
      or nine years
It was as if I suddenly was nine years old
Not knowing exactly what to do with my life
With my own future

I have to admit this feeling was very nostalgic
But it was also tiring, I was ageing very very slowly
It felt like my husband was around 60 years old
And I was still becoming younger

At first when I told him I couldn’t do it anymore
I didn’t feel anything
But when another couple of years passed by
I found myself crying into the pillow
Because it did not help me
I was a newborn baby
And I needed somebody to take care of me
Since I couldn’t do it myself