“I want to die”, I scream so many times.
Like death is some kind of “utopia”.
Like freedom.
Like belonging.
That is what it feels like.
But I also know I will never be ready for it.
Until maybe that moment when it’s actually happening.

But planning it is scary to me.
Knowing it’s going to happen.
I’m bad at letting go.
But this world has never been ok, right or safe.
And I know it’s not supposed to be.
I knew it from the start cause I didn’t come out of the womb.

I’m always ready to leave.
Yet, I’m never really ready.
I lie inside my grave with my eyes open and my hands digging in the soil.
Still not closing my eyes and letting go.
Until that won’t open wide enough for my body to give in.
Till it completely falls apart.
Then I’d have to let go.
My old jacket is finally torn and falling and I am reaching out to that girl.

That girl that already found her way towards another place.
And I change into my new form.
Like I’ve been changing into different forms.
In my way here in this life.
But then I can finally completely change without it taking everything from me.
Finally be exactly what I want to be.
Home.
Why am I so scared?
To let go. 🥲

It’s probably not supposed to be easy.
I’m not supposed to be able to leave whenever I want to or need to.
That would not fit with the journey.
And the experience.
Being in this world, it has rules to it.
I guess I just have to be really brave.

I can make weird faces again with my stitches.
Yay.
Won’t take it for granted, I’m trying.
Not to take life in this world, seriously.

Seriously, there must be other places.
But every place has connections to everything.
Trying to let go of everything….
Before I go, letting go.

It’s easier to let go for me already.
When I know I can leave.
I feel broken and lost.
But I’m letting go of what’s bothering as much as I can.

But then…
There’s always something.
Always been.
Free when I’m home.
That’s how it should go.

That’s where you let your guard down.
And I’ve never been home here.
So maybe I can finally drop everything and fall down.
Forever when I’m gone.

If I can’t work towards my future, then I should accept my death
I’m mentally terminal

Intensely over it
Giving up with passion
Raging from the depth

Nailed to the ground
Dropped like a sack of potatoes
Fights are over

There is no more fighting fire
Just burning
Crawling through the still burning ashes

Stitches in my mouth
Blood and chocolate
My teeth on a string
Spitting blood

Everything I bite turns to red velvet
Paying in blood
For old ways to make it through the night
Infected wounds
Digging in the dirt
To take out the trash

Stitched back up
Like my stuffed support animal
Having to behave
No drinking

Just suffering, cleaning
Sitting in the noise
Always something happening
Distracting

Dealing with everything
Hanging by a thread
It’s not holding
Falling

It’s not working well
Holding on
Without drinking
And only eating
Red velvet

Has the courage to reflect on her own decisions.
Shares with us her feelings of love, pain and hope.
She gives advice and strengt hand brings along some greater visions.
And she learns from her and our journeys.
Which we share, sometimes from a distance.
No other mother I would choose, my sister and I are her only babies.
She loves with fire and persistence.
Here and beyond here.
A mother like you is like no other, that’s clear.

I hate to admit the only thing that makes me feel ok is beer.
Nothing works.
I want to not care.
But it takes forever to make my bed right.
To put the pillow down in the right position without distraction.
And I did put it down, but I got distracted, it went wrong and so I started drinking beer again.

And I know I should be patient.
I know I should be peace.
But I’ve been through discomfort too many times for too long.
That I find it hard to just accept it.
That it’s not ok and that doesn’t feel ok.
Life has never been ok for me, has never really been working.

Although I keep saying that I’ve done so much learning.
So I accept my fate but let it be over in the end because I can’t keep on doing this.
Over and over every day, trying to make it ok.
Please let me die in peace one day like I’m dying in peace and beer every night when I pass out for three hours on the couch.
It’s better than dealing with everything, although everything comes back when I wake up.

And I try to make things right before I start drinking.
Why has it come to this?  
It has always been like this.
Just in different ways.

Eating, exercising, not eating, trying to compensate for eating…
Running running, running running running.
Or just screaming.
Drinking, drowning, puking, wishing I could be puking.
But just passing out again.
Because it takes forever to make life work for me.

I didn’t come out of the womb, I didn’t want to.
But now I know, I had a very rough journey to get through somehow.
And I’ve had the best people in my life that I could wish for.
But one day it should be over and it shouldn’t take too long.
I shouldn’t get too old.
I’m so done done done done done done done done fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting trying trying trying trying trying.

Even giving up and it’s not even stopping the pain.
Not entirely, although it helps a bit to give up.
Please understand, just have compassion.
I have suffered all of my life in many ways and I still am.

But I am working on a good end to all of this.
Let’s finish this book of horror and pain, agony, and intense torture!
And yes, I had good moments.
Yes, I had the best of company.
Yes, I try to be free and yes, I had adventures.
I’m grateful, I’m ok with it.

But I’m NOT with the continuous suffering!
And I know this life isn’t fair, but really it is so so so so so so so so unfair in many ways.
Not just my life, I see it all around.
Some people found a way to manage it, but I have NEVER been able to really.
And DID I try!
I tried.

This life, a journey full of pain.
It’s ok, but I’m done!
I’m holding on, but I hope for the end.
And I hope I can hold on for a good one, a good end to all of this.
I owe it to myself and to the people in my life.
But if it’s not possible, then that’s also my journey.

And I hope it doesn’t have to come to that, but if it does, it does.
And I’m just being honest because that’s life, that’s what it is.
That’s this life.
I heard the song by Mark Knopfler on the radio at the hairdressers today, ‘What it is’.

To you:

I made a mistake today.
Can’t fix the pain.
I am the one that hurts you.
Again.

Oh no, you’ve got to fix me.
You want to fix me.
I can’t be fixed and I’m that bad.
Again.

Help me, save me, I’m a witch burning.
Still burning and being in pain.
Your pain.
My pain.
My intensity, good, bad and horrible.
Torturing tension.
Sensitivity.

I want to **** that ***** that’s inside.
I want to be ok.
I want to be good.
To you. 😭

I want to live life as a dream
Laugh it all away
Like flowers in the wind
In April and in May
But instead, there’s a storm
So I call my mom inside
She tells me it will be ok
And spreads her arms so wide

I have no right to judge.
I am the same, I have become the same.
I have no reason to change, although I have someone I care about.
But my perception of life remains the same.
And I’m not able to help anyway.
Not more than I am now, which is from a distance.

So why should I stop what I’m doing?
I can only make steps towards any possibility of getting out of this.
But am I better or worse than the people that are toxic?
No, because I am too.
They are hurting, and so am I.
And nobody deserves to, but we are.
Toxic, hurting, irresponsible, human beings.

But I hope we will do our best, especially for the duties we got.
Having children is one.
Being a sibling is one as well
We may have a journey in life which we did not always ask for, it seems.
But we grow from it.
We need to somehow.
Like a task which for many is hard.
And for some it’s a too **** hard one to fulfill.

Parents aren’t always present.
And I hope that anyone will find anyone that will be there sometimes to care.
But we always got ourselves to blame first and need to have our own back when nobody else does.
These times are about changing patterns and behaviors.

Some of us are warriors in this battle.
Some of us are still trying to escape.
And for some, it seems too late.
They have died, but yet are still here, can’t be saved, can’t escape.
Not completely.
They are not sleeping, they are dead people.
Still walking the earth trying to manage what’s left of their existence.

Today I felt so lonely in my mental state that I gave a homeless man ice cream.
I had seen him standing there and sitting there in the same spot days before.
He was there again with his head in the sun bending down.

He told me that he lives in a tent.
But soon he would be staying at a hotel or even move to America with a group of people.
You could smell them from a distance, but what do you expect?

So I let him pick his favorite ice cream flavors.
He was friendly and I could tell that he was alright from his energy.
This is how two lonely people who don’t feel at home share a moment.
And it’s a little awkward.

But it’s better than to stay in your bubble.
That’s what it felt like.
And I hope it felt the same for him.
Just a moment to be seen and heard and not be all alone in your head.

Or sitting on the bricks in the center of the city he grew up in.
While I have traveled a bit through the country, but never found my home actually.
But I did meet amazing people, and I did have my adventures.
And now I don’t know what the next part of my life looks like.
Just like him holding on.

Although I have a very safe place, my mind is not, but I can’t complain.
I have everything I need.
Not like this man.
He only has the ice cream I just gave him this afternoon just out of my own loneliness. 🍨🍦

I can’t help but feel like it takes too much to be ok.
So, I’m not ok.
And I take too much.
I am at this point where people don’t always understand I’m not happy or grateful for life.
But I’m not apologizing for how I feel.
I need to be real and I try my best everyday and every night.

But I need to escape.
And I’m figuring out what is working still which is not a lot
But I’m loving the people that may make me feel a little bit more alive each day.
And the things, the little things, the moments where I can drift away from all that is hurting from all that is wrong.

Those things keep me going and are helping me to hold on and stay.
In the moment in the arms of the people that matter.

🩷🥲🤗🩷

Hugs matter, people matter.
Look at the homeless guy looking at nothing.
All of the afternoon.
He’s just sitting with all of his belongings.
On a brick and I gave him a smoothie and he thanked me in the kindest of ways.
And I just walked away, hoping that I gave him a feeling that he mattered.
Because that’s all that I could give in that moment.

And I only expect people to give what they can give.
Cause that’s all that matters, doing what you can and trying your best.
And if in the end, that’s not enough, then you’re still enough.
Because you are a fighter and therefore winning.
Because you’re always growing.

You experience things from many different sides.
So you know what feels right and what does not.

Young body recovering from the damage.
33 years.
But they seem 3300.
Mind dead.
Brain broken.
Spirit numb.
Can I die?

Only in death I’ll be saved.
From the noises.
From having to make the bed right.
From OCD.
Distractions, overwhelming, being stuck.

I can try to be safe in moments.
But things keep coming back.
So death, safe me from these.
I’m crying for you.
Day and night.

A project of love instead of a project of fear.
Killing my ego.
Step by step.

Fear coming from hope and expectation.
Letting go.
Not expecting, but accepting and trusting.

It’s all I can do.
Before I’m ready to leave.
I think I’m done with all that this world has brought.

But now I’m still taking steps towards leaving.
And that thought is soothing.
Also trying to be in the moment and accepting.
It is what it is.

My journey.
I won’t fight it.
It’s been torture but it’s a process.
My project.
My torment.
My breaking point.
Every time, the things that come back again.

But now I need to let go.
Killing my ego.
Step by step.

Be that mess.
You’ll get through it.
Again and again.

It’s draining and torturous.
So be that mess.
Embrace the dark.

Expect nothing.
Accept everything.
No matter how mean.

It’s so dark.
Telling yourself lies, little white lies.
To create little space.
To get through the day.

The dark is ok.
But not when you can’t sleep.
Not when it’s violently painful to be awake.

To live a life that never feels fine.
You just try.
But need to escape from this world.

Stuck in the moment.
And it’s not pleasant, draining discomfort.
Takes forever.

“You’ll find your peace” is what she said.
It’s what I repeat over and over now.
Daily and at night when everything feels so wrong.
“I don’t like it anymore” is what I said.
It’s what I repeat over and over now.
Daily and at night when everything feels so wrong.

“I can’t get it right, it’s not working”,
“I’m a part of my family so I can do anything”, “I’m save, I’m taking my time”,
“I do it the best way possible”….

It’s been taking too long.
It’s not working for me.
I’m trying to go inside but so much is happening.
Too long.
And not enough.
I need peace and something worth fighting for.
Not to just survive for decades.

I’m not ok with having to constantly find a way through things that aren’t.
Ok.
Ok?
No, it’s not.
No, I’m not.
I’m just trying to find my way out of this.
And not come back but I have to do it in a way that is not ok.
Cause I can’t stay, not even when I try to be save, inside, taking my time, doing what I can…

I’m so tired and lonely.
I want to lie in somebody’s arms.
Like a baby.
Connected.
And I want to escape from this place forever.
But I can’t find the escape, the connection or the right arms.

The right eyes don’t look.
The hands I love don’t reach.
The voice I long for is saying hurtful things.
The face I want to see is turned.
And the warmth I once felt for a moment turned into a breeze.

It doesn’t accept me.
It blows against me.
Pushes me down.
The last bit of hope to feel something other than the loneliness, the exhaustion, sadness.
It left me.

More empty, more defeated.
But what did I expect?
As if anyone would ever want to hold a baby that keeps crying.
That doesn’t sleep tight.
That is never happy to live.

Always so broken.
Lost in a world that it was forced into.
To live a life that’s way too much to handle and to carry?
Nobody wants to hold a baby that became a grown woman with too much hurt.

I long for that day where I can close my eyes and give up forever. When I’m able to let go. Peacefully. But maybe I will not go like that. Maybe I’ll have to also fight my way out. I’m a Viking after all. And the waters were always dark. Wild, wavy, deep. So I couldn’t rest. So my skin cracked, my eyes stung. I haven’t been soft since childhood. But I do know what caring about someone means. And music is a medicine that helps more than anything ever could. Doctors could never give me anything that helped. This world has taught me so many lessons. Has made me experience so much. Hopefully I can use this to get a broad perspective on existence. I think I will. But for now I don’t know where my ship is sailing. Not in calm waters. That’s all that I can say. I want to sleep. I want to go home. I want to sail towards the sky. Drown into the deep sea. And never come back to the shore of this world.

I’m a curious child sitting in a tree. Looking at a different world beyond hers. And it’s different there. Some things are better, some are worse. They have mercy but rules. She has no mercy but freedom. So she calls out to the God from the side she views. Asks for mercy from that God. Even though she can’t be part of the people that live there. The God still hears her. And understands it’s not for her to be there. But she needs to feel mercy. So he sends it to her anyway. Letting her finish her journey in her own world. And she is free but she’s watching and listening to other worlds. She picks up what she needs to. Discovering what belongs to her. She doesn’t judge. Just sees that there are many journeys beside hers.

I’m tired.
You’re tired.
Sleep required.

But things are not right.
So staying up. Pouring a cup.
Hot chocolate…

And later fixing, always fixing things.
And the day was overwhelming so drinking. Shutting down, feeling worse than before.
Of course, a cycle of more, more, more.

And less rest, stressed.
I’m not alone, yet so alone.
Not a home, not a place.
Parents from back in the days saving face.
Not the children.

Like having them was also just a social construct.
And it hasn’t changed.
But now parents are supposed to give them a choice.
As if they have any.
Being put in this world.
It’s empty.
Sad and demanding.

So we freeze or escape.
At least we try to.
But some need to stay, it’s not their time to.
Not their time to leave.
It goes on forever, torture, pain, fighting, grief.
So much learning, developing, experience.
Never ending.
Story.
Telling.
Finally telling.

No longer covering up truth pouring out from our insides.
No more.
Lies.
Saving face.
Just crying and sad.
Save us!
Let us be, set us free.
Let us go.
World of sorrow.
Let us live.
Not be dead in here.
Die in fear.
Let us run and escape.

Fly like heroes.
Take our own shape.
Have our own love.
Find our kin. From whitin, fly above.

Above the pain that’s been going around.
Cycles finally broken and we are found by mothers of the universe.
We are loud, proud and free.
Having experienced this for eternity but now finally we come out.

So empty, too full.
She gave all she could.
But pouring water kept her from breathing.            
Well then what is left to do but drown?

But then look at them judging, why ain’t she swimming?
Can’t breathe, can’t breathe.
They stand there and tell her exactly what to do.
From the sideline.
All she ever asked was for them to understand why.
Why she drowned and sank.

But it was too much to ask so she drowned alone again.
And this time she gave in.
She gave up and blocked out everyone who never listened to her begging.
Just understand that all she was asking was for you to believe that it really was pouring and pouring and pouring.
And it never stopped…

I need to think of myself as a soldier. In this war zone called earth. It gives me strength. To conquer these battles… 🔥🪖💥🔥 Only in death I may find piece. Mayday 👊🏻⭐️🫡🩸

Are you ok?
Why can I not be with the people that I love the most? Why do I not even know how they are right now? My mental health gets in the way. I’m not ok, ok? And I’m pretty sure you’re not doing much better than me. So from a distance here’s my love. I hope it reaches you. I might as well be dead. It’s just the same. But now let’s meet each other in dreams if we could actually sleep. I’d hold you like I can’t when I’m awake. I will never let you go. Not in death, not in my heart. We are together somehow. Somewhere, some time. Hold on until I can hold you. We’ll be ok, ok?

A man once told me a story.
He was a night guard at a facility.
About how when you do something out of love it’s no longer a task.

And I figured I could try to apply that for many things I have to do.

But nowadays it seems like even out of love it’s not ok.
Dealing with the same old.
I think that’s it, it gets old.
Even for love.

Love doesn’t have to get old but I do and the things I do to.
So even out of love doing them feels bad and exhausting.
It’s not going smoothly.
I’m also feeling lost and out of options to be able to get through life again.

Cause where can I go again?
And starting again feels like trying to fix an old engine.

It runs but it’s still exhausted.
It’s never fresh and new.

Kinda wish 2025 was the end of everything.
Or at least that it was the beginning of the end.
And that in the end there was nothing left for me to be here for.

No need, no options, no pain in leaving, just acceptance.
Letting go, everything around me falling away.               From me.
Even my body.
I would shoot myself up into the universe like fire work.

And rain upon the lovely spirits around me.
Then I would start rotating, whirling around.
Until I became the form I wanted to be in then.
I would fly everywhere, dream and have peace.

Never fight battles again that are just torture.
Find a place of belonging and deep connections.

But also just freedom.
In every possible way.
No failing, no struggling, no being stuck.
Diving into endless oceans of peace. 🩵

If I’d just confessed to you exactly what I feel. Exactly what I’d want. Would you be glad to know? Or would you rather have me say nothing? Change nothing and let you be? What do you want? I never know. You are so busy and so occupied. There seems to be no time for love in this life! Or no energy. I get it. Alone time is precious but so are these moments. These moments shared. But what if it’s not right? What if it won’t work? We’ll only know if we try.

But maybe you don’t care. Or maybe you’re just happy to be fine all alone. Just like the way I feel after surviving all these fights. Again and again. Exhausted. But you have to live a little too? Not just experience the pain. Maybe I can help. Or maybe I make it worse. Or both. Probably both. I’m good with that. Destroying you while turning you upside down. I’m like alcohol. Sometimes you throw me up, sometimes I’m the escape of all the misery you face…

To life,

Don’t take this as an angry note please but I’m out of this game. I won’t be scared to fail anymore. I know there will always be something not ok in here. For me that’s what it always has been like. I was called “too sensitive” or “weird” constantly. I tried to explain myself or situations in hope to make a difference. And I hope it shifted some little parts. I was always a part of something far beyond this place. The experience of life. On earth. But this game got me tired like I lived 3300 years instead of 33. I will turn 33 this February. If I make it. And if so I’m still out of the game. Because I’m following my own plan alone. No fears, no care. I’m beyond the caring about things. I will always care about people. Especially the ones who’s journeys have crossed mine and made it worth it. But this game ends for me. The challenges are over, I’m just existing here now. Making the best of it. That alone takes a lot. But that’s all I’m willing to bring to this world from now on. My best without caring so much about it being the best version. Just the version I am. And if that feels too wrong to be here I’ll be gone forever. Out of this game and out of this place for good because it doesn’t feel good. Even worse now. I’m feeling old, tired, worn out, not excited anymore. Thanks for all the things falling into place whenever they needed to. I appreciate it. I’ve noticed it. Thanks for the growth. But there’s been too much decay in me to stay here.

Sincerely,

Sharon
A.k.a Zeena and all the other versions and names before.

There’s an attic where I can go to.
And through the window peeps a new beginning maybe.

But I’ll never really be ready.
So I close my eyes.
I got nothing left to lose but no freedom.
No reason to stay.

I need a taste of that world where I’m alive.
First it kills me everytime I drink from the cup of joy.

And my dead body lies on the attic.
But it’s brought back to life by a man.
He tells me that he has a surprise for me.
And it’s just outside…

Always that man, always that drink.
Always that body dead brought back.

The eyes don’t glow.
Not here.
Not anymore.

Because this world doesn’t feel right to me.
And there’s no glowing, just freezing.

In this world there’s love, when you look deeper inside it feels like a belonging.
Are there actual words for deep feelings?
I like to try to find my way of expressing them at least.

I like to try through words, movements, sound.
I feel so distracted by noise, I feel so uncomfortable in life.
But when I think about love/belonging I feel so much emotion, realness, longing.

My thoughts can get in the way of my love, the “now”, the true desire.
Set me free, I beg you now, torturing place, prison guard, unlock the chains.
⛓️‍💥
**** the disease.
Break the bars.
Release the tension.
Come get me.
Let me out.
Spread your arms open wide.
Let me inside.
Welcome me.

New world of love and belonging, inside you and me.
Away from here where there’s noise and control and no control of your life.
I’m dying over and over just to live a little, fighting battles for some peace.

Let me let it go, let it out, get out, blow up.
Dream far.
Escape fast and stay away.
Long enough to feel so good.
To know what it’s like again to have energy, be exited about something.

Over someone.
A connection.
A place.
A new way to be.
A new name and body.
A fresh feeling.
Fulfillment, purpose, hope, belonging/love.

Time is stressful.
Limiting.
Hard to ignore.
Organizing.
We need it.
But it kills us.
It puts an end to things.
In this world.
I love that.
But I hate everything else about it.
That’s why I love that it ends itself for everyone.
Time is also limited.
Time dies.
By time of death.
Buy time, time is money.
Money can’t buy it.
It can only help to conceal it sometimes or save you time.
Making things easier and faster.
Try to make time.
For what matters.
All we got is time.
And no time.
Everything matters.
But no time for everything.
So we do the dull things.
That can’t wait.
We don’t take enough time for ourselves or we wait for someone.
Give us time today, tomorrow next weekend.
Let us take time and not let time take everything.

You have to accept what you can’t change.
And try to make your way through it.
This world can imprison you and not set you free for so long that it feels as if you died.
And you feel it so deeply it’s now a part of your journey.

The opposite of freedom.
That’s what this world can feel like.
The balance for when you are out of here.
So when you are free you know what it’s like to be stuck.
To work hard, to suffer so bad.

You know what it’s like.
And I hope it makes it all worth it then when you’re free so you enjoy it well.

When I say “everything will be ok”, I mean just for today.
I don’t mean forever and always.
I mean we’ll get through this somehow.
And it’s no fun most moments.
You have to realize.
It’s hard work.
Really hard work for just those moments of peace.
And we’re doing it.
When it goes on for too long some people get weary.
At times or forever.
For the rest of their lives, a little or a lot.
It can feel so uncomfortable.
Struggling daily.
But then when you reach a milestone in the day you can be proud, celebrate, be a boss.
Because, come on, you did it, AGAIN

✨⭐️🩵💙💜HOPE is all we’ve got when life’s rough. Accepting things are not how we wish them to be. But they feel better in dreams sometimes. And you forget about pain that you carry. You meet people and hug them. And it’s so intense. Like a drink to a song times a 1000. Or more. You don’t know anything else. Let that hope be that dream. And that dream be that HOPE 💜💙🩵⭐️✨

When I’m in the dark and the noises won’t stop.
I call upon the Goddesses to help.
And then when nothing flows we make it.
It’s not easy but I feel them.
And we celebrate later.
I hope they understand that I would rather join them altogether.
But I’m not ready yet.
I don’t know how much longer till I’m where I want to be but they send gifts.
Sometimes I need to pay for them.
That’s fair.
But sometimes the balance needs to be made.
No perfect dream without a nightmare after.
How much celebrating is going to feel ok still?
I’m still here and I just need to escape it.
All the noise and all the feelings.
I want the darkest black and the brightest glitter.
The deepest blue, pink and purple.
And then I swim.
Keep swimming.
Cause I can’t just all day long “keep swimming” without feeling.
I feel too much.
But it’s ok when it’s good.
Good stuff, good energy, it will come.
Like fairy witches, my name will be Nanti Noémy
🧚🏻‍♀️✨✨🌑✨✨🌻

I have a feeling that I need something more than the sunrise and sunset for so long.
Life feels like a box in which I never did belong.
So I'm either tired or seeking for more in vain.
A lot more than sunlight, a little more than rain.

A few more bites, another slice of anything that's nice.
A better place, a warmer shelter, a bigger price.
To compare for the hunger and the pain.
The pain I could never explain.

Because people say and I like to believe that many things should have a reason why.
I'd probably only figure out really how that's true when I die.

I stopped believing in a great ending and stories but I know it all falls into place just fine.
Right now I'm balancing high between two places to fall on a thin line.

Having to decide but falling anyway soon.
In the morning, at night and noon.
I'm in a box.
I'm between two rocks.
Too slipery to climb up.
No backing up.

Watching the sun set and rise.
Wanting to be in another world to finish off in paradise. 🖤⚡️🔥

I can see in the dark.
And it hurts my head.
I close my eyes but still see the light.
I don’t want to see it, I’m aching, so exhausted.
Everyday there’s something wrong and every night there’s something keeping me up.
The dreams are not vivid.
The people in it are invisible.

It gets old to be here.
Everything gets old.
Feels old.
Not in a good old way but lame, unexciting, uninteresting.
I’ve heard it all before, I’ve seen enough.
I want to be new, feel new, everything.
Sparkling, alive.

I see in the dark, distracting.
It hurts.
I need that light off if there’s nothing good.
To see.
To feel.
To be.
Where the dreams are not vivid.
Not feeling much, only unpleasant.

My ears feel like they’re bleeding.
I was sleeping.
But they started buzzing.
I needed that sleep.
And they’re not stopping.
Loud outside.

Head hurts now.
I’m frozen stiff.
Need to leave the world.
Everything is wrong.
The mattress moved and popped and now it’s not comfy.
So I got on the couch trying to get some rest.
I don’t know what to do anymore.
I’m traumatized by how hard it is to find comfort I feel.

My ears are popping.
They are not stopping.
Wish I was still sleeping.

What should I do about the bed?
About making people tired or letting people down?
I’ll try to find solutions.
Try to stay calm.

I was already thinking last night like:

This world is nothing but a job.
I don’t feel alive.
Things are no longer new and exciting.

Today everything got worse so all I can do is trust there’s a reason….
Learning to live while not comfortable, experiencing feelings.
No certainty, maybe I will sleep or die from lack of rest.

Still I remain a dead person who hasn’t died.
Can I live in the moment?
I have so many thoughts about the next thing coming and the wrongs things…
Not every thought needs to become an action though but I cry inside and I don’t want to be here.
This is not my world at I’m tired of trying to fit in it.

A dark love story in a dark cave with little lights in the water.
Flowers on the walls.
Hands holding.

Sounds of songs echoing.
And a family of sisters and brothers.
Warm spots where the sun comes in.
Lying there.

A teardrop for the other side.
And dark eye for knowledge gained.
Bright eyes for still holding hope.
A stream of lights.

Collecting fallen stars.
Let’s eat them so they don’t go to waste.
We will not blossom but we escaped and we can finally be ok.
Loving in our darkness.

Like mermaids.
Eating sea plants.
Singing sweetly.
But dark sounding.
Lullabies.

I wanted to die soon but then I discovered new songs. 😄
Many came by today.
Even too many to keep track.
Now I just want to be in them.
One after another.
Like dying, in songs.

I escape in black.
I stop everything.
And run away.
Gone forever.
I run till I find a gate of swirls.
And jump through.
My mind is broken.
My body won’t hold it if I don’t run.
Not all day everyday so I try to run when I can.
Far and long.
Till my body is as tired as my head.
And they crash hopefully.
So I don’t have to hold a broken mind.
But it’s never silent there so even as I crash these voices scream me awake.
They try to talk as I’m running.
So I try to silence them till I drop.
Run me over!
I’m done running from and towards things.
I’m done dropping being broken all the time.

We’re not here for a good time or peace.
I knew that even before this life.
I didn’t come out of the womb.
A suicidal infant.
Life is a game you can’t win, only learn from.
That’s my experience…
And oh yes I did learn.
But I wish I could find a little peace as well.

In another world I’ll be that mother that looks at their kid thinking: what’s not to love?
I’ll do things calmly.
I don’t need to break a toxic cycle.
From my family and my own life.
I’m new.
To be able to love and enjoy things calmly and peacefully.

I want to bleed till I’m dry.
Never cry so hard again and just drown forever.

Be a corpse swallowed by the sand soaked by the rain.

Not like the sand that burned.
But let me crawl into the earth.

Walk through tunnels till I’m out.
Ready to fly, away from where my dead body lies deep.

I wanted to be dead at 26. I’m 32 now. Still want to be dead at 26. Even though I did learn, grow and experience a lot. I don’t like life and who I’ve become. 😢😞

I love to pretend that everything is fine.
Like a moment of silence, a dark corner, a song.
I see a painting of a woman crying.
Big drops.

I meet nice people when I sleep.
I go under the water.
I take things as they come.

Hidden behind grave stones I watch the people walking.
Crying.
People losing everything being locked up in their prisons.

And the love and hope that keeps them going.
From a distance.

Love is traveling from one place to the next.
To where it belongs.
And it can never stay alive.

Only in death.
Everything is fine.

Like a moment of silence in the dark.
Like a song in your playlist that comes along telling you: it’s alright.

Forget about time.
Make time forget about you.
You don’t exist in time.
You died too many times.
You’re not living with time.
All the times you cried are not here where time has passed.
And you exist somewhere where there’s no time left.
Time is just dead.
But you exist.
Always.

💀⏲️🔨✨

These are the cards you are dealt today.
Never easy.
Always trying hard to find a way to deal with them.

Same cards keep coming back.
You can’t get rid of them.
Some you will be able to throw away, some you only get sometimes and then they disappear again for a while.

What’s the end card? I wonder.
You can only see the cards revealing this world and not what’s next.

But what’s beyond can shine through these cards and you can get a glimpse of your purpose.
Your intense longing for something that’s not here.

They show you yourself, your life and battles in that day.
You recognize some of them too much and some are new.

There are rules to this card-game I feel:
-Don’t think you deserve better cards.
-Don’t take your cards for granted.
-Don’t take the easy way out.
-Do have patience if you can.
-Take breaks if possible.
-Don’t take it too seriously.
-Anything can happen, is possible.

Tired in a cherry world.
I’m running down the lane, across the hallway and the fluffy walls.
Sorry but I missed the train.
I’m tired and I can’t see where I’m going.
But I also can’t sleep.
I’m uncomfortable so I went to this cherry land.

There’s no other place where I can stay.
And I’m still running but in a cherry place.
I think I might be here for a little while.
Cherry cheeks and cherry beer.
Cherry lips of course…
Rainbows, raining cherries.
And some clouds in the sky, so light and pink.

I wish I was light in myself.
No feeling heavy inside.
That’s why I leave to the cherry tree.
To lie down but I’m not comfortable at all.
So I get up and run and eat a bun with sweet cinnamon.

**** me and let me bleed cherry.
Thick sweet cherry colored fluid from inside, let me fall, let it rain, cherry blood.
The stains will never be washed away.
Easter is coming.
And I’m painting the eggs.
Cherry red in a fluffy basket.
Safely tucked in.
They won’t crack easily.

Unless you throw them and they splash.
Cherry liquid love.
They spread it over the sea.
And the Easter bunny is swimming.

Floating like a cherry in the lemonade pool, the tank with taps that lead to the can.
The can full of cherry liquor and cream.
I’m dressed in black with dark cherry stains.
Stamping on the cherries.

But I cut my feet, from the egg shells, the dyed chick’s eggs, died like me.
Died, dead, cherry, red.
Cause they got smashed.

And I was tired of being cracked and crying, cherry colored.
Waves of pain, witches that float, that see too many things through cherry seas.

🍒🌊🩸

And in the end after only hearing that SHE was the problem.
She could be nothing else.
And she also kept having problems no matter what she did.
No matter where she went and with whom.
So she became the problem while also having problems constantly.
Some problems worse that others.
In the end she got so tired of them and tired of being the problem.

She didn’t know how to ever get out of this cycle and overcoming the problems she kept on having.
They were there when she wanted to rest and they were there when she wanted to do something.

Even when she closed her eyes, covered her ears, cried.
Most of the time.
But she did have background music to play.
And danced to it, ran and sang.
She had some pretty great friends and her close family grew with her into people of knowledge.

Her friends as well, they all got wiser.
But they also had their battles.
And now that she has really become the problem she found herself unworthy, like a burden most of the time, she was still having these issues.

While she had many things that other people didn’t, that SHE didn’t have before.
But now she was still having problems being the problem.
And there was nothing left to see, nothing other than the problems and the problem.
The problem is her.