When the real me isn’t good enough.
It *****.
When I’m honest, I hurt.
When I’m open, people hate me.
When I lose control for one second, people take distance from me.
Loose hope in me, don’t hire me, make dreams beyond me.
Being truly myself is always a huge risk for me
And hurting people is the last thing I want.
A slip is so easily made
In the most important and most intimate moments
It breaks the existing and the possible
The sad thing is, the moments in which I feel good,
When I’m happy, energetic, loved,
Then when I’m most myself,
Those are the moments I mess up.
So what now?
Is there no happiness, freedom and love for me?
Because it creates danger zones for myself and for others?
I don’t know man, I don’t know.
**** like this always happens at a peak,
A peak of love, happiness, freedom,
I think I’m finally there,
The space of being my energetic self,
And then I knock myself down,
Or someone else does it for me.
To the place of not being myself,
To the restricted, humble, polite, considerate form
Of myself
Which I have learned to create over the years.
I am in a sad situation.
I try so hard, so hard, to have the two,
The happiness, freedom and love without hurting others,
But on days like this, my hope tumbles down again,
To the pitch black reality,
Of me.

I come from a meeting,
still stressed,
plannings and deadlines,
in my head.

Staring at the onions,
which look like they bake,
ten times slower,
as usual.

You come in,
with your big smile,
touchy hands,
and a mouth ready to kiss.

While turning the onions,
you come behind me,
try to hug my stressed body,
and fill it with joy.

And then,
the defrosting process begins,
bit by bit,
you patiently wait.

You patiently wait,
without comments,
without complains,
till I am unfrozen again.

Back on the countryside,
Just for a day,
Seeing far,
Real darkness,
without street lights,
blurring the stars away.
Less people,
more animals,
feeling the wind,
grass underneath my shoes,
It feels more like home,
than the city,
I've been staying in,
for the last months.
The feeling of home,
I still can't distinguish,
What it is exactly,
But it makes me feel happy.
I would be even more happy,
If you, my love,
would be there,
Just your presence,
gives a warm golden edge,
To everything I do,
Everything I experience.
Being happy,
in a happy place,
with you.
That's what I want

I'm one of these girls,
who will always stay,
100 miles away,
from the perfect woman and human.

Genes gave me short and thick legs,
instead of the long branches like Giselle Bundchen.
Blue eyes, but not the sparkly,
light ones, bursting from pictures.
Hair, which is always messy,
grows uneven and is the ultimate safety net,
for bees and flies.
A face that is so round,
that even my 6 years old cousin,
notices it and jokes about it.
A brain which forgets,
so much stuff,
names, numbers, groceries,
lyrics, everything.
With maybe some talents in it,
but not the ones sought for,
by society and recruitment agencies.
A characteristic, to stress so easily,
that even seeing an ugly picture of myself,
raises my stress levels,
4 hours long with 80 percent.
An urge for expression,
which is often interpreted by others,
as rude, too direct and offensive,
although not mend in that way.

Couldn't you have done a better job,
evolution, god, causality,
or anyone or anything else?
I'm kinda tired of reaching stuff,
which I can never reach,
but see other people have.

But well,
there is a bright side,
to this story.
Because people,
me included,
can decide,
for themselves,
what they want to reach.
And also because I often,
had to reach very far,
I've learned to work hard,
in many ways.
Harder than people for which,
some things,
they only needed to lift their hand.
It made me creative,
original, made me able,
to learn and accept.
I don't win over guests in a restaurant,
by my speed, glossy smile or waving hips.
I open my heart, try to feel what they want,
make them feel special, heard and understood.
Smiling, not with a perfect Barbie smile,
but with happiness and radiation.

I've learned all kinds of tricks and habits,
to remember facts, names and appointments.
I've adapted a lifestyle in which,
I feel comfortable.
I have found ways to express beauty,
in my own way,
far from those unreachable standards,
often projected by different sources.

But most of all,
I've learned to created, build, construct,
accept, love and develop.
I've noticed and have been made aware,
of so many flaws.
But knowing them, is the first step,
in overcoming them,
with a talent.
Only by exploring, falling and failing,
those talents unravel and grow.

I'm one of these girls

The sky turns red, blue and yellow,
I take in the beautiful horizon.
Feeling a bit lost and mellow,
Here in the village I am from.

The black contour of the church,
Contrasts sharply with the colourful sky.
On the edge where darkness emerges,
Where clouds become invisible and just fly.

Knowing being here temporarily,
Makes this place even more beautiful.
Living abroad does something to the mind apparently,
Which makes your perceptions of locations less dull.

A couple more days,
Of this place,
This phase,
This praise.
I love it.

Streets with people
Shops with clothes
Stress of being on time
Safety signs everywhere
Salad eating women
Sales men walking in suits
Sandwiches to go in plastic
Schools filled with children

Simply a city
Yet again

Numbed by sugar
Filled with milk
Activated by cafeine
Focused by glasses
Seated by chairs
Ordered by managers
Delivered by fear
Kept alive by colleagues

Everyone needs a cigarette,
Not literally, I mean it as a metaphor,
Something for this little stress threat,
Inside the upper core.

Why do people actually,
Wanna avoid stress all the time.
Wouldn't it be more logical,
If we would accept it all?

Live with the voices screaming,
The hearbeat rising,
The ugly dreaming,
And inner fighting.

I guess not...

People have been searching,
For relaxation through history,
A herb, a massage, a magic thing,
First an experience, later almost compulsary.

I'm still figuring out,
The balance between accepting and interventions,
To live healthy, pure and happy,
But without too much tensions.

Exploring these things,
Is actually a lot of fun.
Sometimes it gives me wings,
Other times i just hold on.

In search, but with a smile, this can last a while, just accept my style

The night is mine.
Dreams instead of reality,
Full of unreality.
In the dream I fly,
Like a bird up high.
Hugging the loved ones,
Before they are gone.
Just some wings,
No other things.
It's all I ask,
For my core dream task

I wanna see you when you're tired as ****,
With blue skin under your eyes.
I wanna see you when you think life *****,
Till the moment you break down and cry.

I wanna see you when you're stressed,
About things in your day or life.
I wanna see you without interest,
And when deadlines feel like knives.

I wanna see you when you doubt,
About choices which you made.
I wanna see you not being proud,
About models which fade.

I wanna see you irritated,
By me or other things around you.
I wanna see you medicated,
Sick and half dead by the flu.

I wanna see you uncomfortable,
Twisting with your fingers and legs.
I wanna see you freak out uncontrollable,
And only thinking what the hack.

I don't exactly why,
But I long to see also this of you.
And I won't hide,
That my flaws are not just a few.
Just be, let's see, so together we are free

I am like a child again,
Beginning my life from scratch.
Evertyhing I build up is gone,
I thought it would still be,
When I came back.

But relationships with friends and lovers,
Are not made of bricks.
They are not solid and treasured like a monument.
They disappear brick by brick,
If they don't receive love and attention.

The only thing I have left is my family,
Because our relationship is in our blood.
It can't go away,
Even if you would want to.

But at the end, this isn't even true.
Houses are being demolished by eart quakes,
Surrounded by ugly highways,
Are replaced by shiny flats.

Family members die,
Move,
Or change so much, the only you can do is break with them.

I am like a child again,
Alone and naked.
Still having to build my own life,
Brick by brick,
Friend by friend,
Till a big waves comes again,
And takes it all away once more,
Or twice,
Or even more.

I think I should become a better builder,
A quicker one, a stronger one.
I have to start loving to build,
Love every brick I add,
Cherish every brick which falls.
And accept the waves of life.
They come and go,
Just like the sea,
Unstoppable,
And yes, sure I can live far from the sea.
But life isn't as good and beautiful inland.

So here I stand,
A naked child,
Who realizes,
The sand castle she just drew,
Is taken by the sea.
She bends down,
And takes the still wet sand in her hands,
And starts building with a smile.

Travelling is always such an appealing thought,
When I'm in trouble.
Real trouble.
Trouble I really have to deal with.
From which I can't escape inside the national boundaries.

But troubles are sticky,
They follow me.
Come visit me.
In the most unexpected places.
Untill I solve them.

Travelling is the thing I do.
Because I'm not good at solving issues.
I rather run away,
Then stay and face the demons.

I'm now travelling again,
Covered in sticky stuff from the past.
Running away feels less and less as a relief.
The only solution I had is gone.
Life is forcing me to solve stuff,
To change deeply,
To break down,
And rise again.

This is the time,
After so many years,
To break down,
I can do it,
There's no way out.
No stopping,
No running,
No delaying,
The time is now.

Tonight, the last piece of hope vanished,
Vanished, in the rain running down my hair,
Vanished, in the wind breezing past my cheeks.
All these months you were my spark,
My spark in this darkness.
The thing I could think of when I thought so less about myself.
I always thought there was still you, over there.

Tonight you showed me,you don't need me.
You don't want me and you don't want to meet me.
You were the only person where I thought I could be myself,
But no,
Myself isn't enough.
Not enough for you, not enough for anyone.
Totally alone,
Again,
But now without the sparkle,
Without the day dreaming lifting me from the horrifying reality.
Nothing of that is left.
Nothing of me is left.

The RAIN knocks on my window
WATER patient to get in
Travelling from CLOUDS up high
And OCEANS far away
Transported by RIVERS
Or flew as VAPOUR
A TEAR rolls down
Salty MOISTURE slightly
HYDRATES my eyes
Staring at the STORM
While the CURRENT inside me
FLOWS

People walk by me,
like I am a ghost.
Or they act like they don't see,
that hurts the most.

I wonder,
Is it this society,
or is it me?

I'm now questioning,
what I saw the past year,
when people were listening.

They were just polite,
smiling and wishing me goodnight.

I was blind,
not to sense,
and to find,
the invisible fence.

Well, alone I am now,
trying to figure out how.
To adapt and change,
becoming less strange.

But still I wonder,
Is it this society,
or is it me?

The road of reality,
where will it take me.
No careful clarity,
Rather a buzzing bumblebee.

Some days I wonder around,
Feeling lost and lonely.
Other days I have my feet on the ground,
Knowing how to be.

Will the wind *******,
In a demanding direction.
Or into the open sea,
Without perfection.

For now I trust,
The course of my heart.
Open but robust,
Hopefully smart.