Steamed up glass and snails all over my body.
I love sleeping.
Not being destructive when not being comfy.
Dreams and cuddles.
Feverish cold.
Fresh but hot.

Wrapped up in black sheets.
Rain outside.
Dry air in with candles in lanterns.
Dreams and snuggles.
Young and old.
I feel, you feel.

You are save and warm.
My only comfort.
I hold you or wait for you, the best moments.
Dreams and hot drinks.
Coffee and chocolate.
Biscuits and liquor.

Feverish dancing.
Dropping my body.
Swimming in the sky.
Swimming in the steam.
Snails in the greenhouse.
Bath and pool.
Couch and pillows.
Bed and sheets.

I love to sleep.
Able to be with anyone anywhere, being/doing anything.
I close my eyes and they open in another place.
All I feel is you.
Eating without guilt.
No pressure, only pleasure.

I lost my ability to be grateful.
I have to remind myself constantly of the things that are ok.
I swore I’d never be fine after the pain, the horrific nights.
They were too much.
Life was too much, forcing my body into movement.
Constant movements without my will, my comfort.
This body, this world, it never felt right at all.
So why would I try to save this world?
Where are we when we are in this world anyway?
Aren’t there other worlds to go to?

And yes, what IS the alternative?
Better or worse right now?
Cause right now I’m in a better place.
I don’t know what the alternative is like.
I just lost the ability to be grateful most of the time.
And I’m not comfy.
That is valid even though I also need to know that there are things that are ok.
But that might be what’s keeping me here.
For even longer than I ever thought I would last.
So I’m rebelling.
But it’s not helping.
Not helping me or anybody.

I want to live in the past.
The present and the future.
Change my hair, shed my skin.
Be all alone in the forest able to see anyone.
Any time, any place, any movement I make is chosen, actually chosen.
Not with the illusion of choice.
When your path is set out fitting.
I want to be creating new things everyday.
And live anywhere with you and alone.
Do what I want when I want to.
Be anything I want to be.
All alone in the forest or at the big lake with the waterfalls.
And see you whenever I choose to.
Sleep comfortably in a large bed in the sky, sing every lullaby.
Or a different song all the time.
Embraces always there.
To find.
I want to live.

I don’t want to cry around 6 am because of the pain that I’m in.
Keeping you awake.
Life ******* me up, ******* your life up.

I didn’t get comfy so I try to wake up.
You’re doing everything, losing sleep and try to comfort me.
It’s impossible but it helps.

I’m sorry.
It just hurts.
Life hurts.
Waking up burns, my body aches and my head breaks…
**** that!
**** life ******* up.
We are strong but I’ve been over it.

For too long.
So I don’t feel that strong anymore, I feel so sore.
You almost can fix everything so you took a challenge.

Not that you will ever try to “fix me”, you can fix the wrong things sometimes.
And I try to find a way through life again when it’s ******* me over.
There’s no “;”, it did get better but it won’t be over.

Over and over, overwhelming and hard.
Painful and rough.

You hold me in the mud flood while it’s chocking me.
And so you can’t sleep.
So I’m sorry.
Peace is hard to find and when I do I lose it too easily.

That breaks me but I still want to be here too.
In your arms every night.

Last night I dreamed I was somebody else.
Me inside another body.
A teen with another kind of life.
And I’m 30 actually.
This girl was still at school.
Had arranged to meet up with a friend that night.
Had a lot of fake black leg tattoos who would come off from a couple of washes.
I’m just curious about this seeming so normal, not remembering my actual life.
Only somewhere hidden in the back.
I knew myself.
But not everything from this life.
My actual one right now.
Is it worth it to go through all of this pain if I don’t remember?
Why am I learning, I know I’m growing but in my dreams I’m back to the base.
The developments are less present.
They do have an influence I suppose but the core is just plain me inside.
Without knowing, remembering everything.
Will I remember what I learned?
I must keep the growth, can I exist with it?
For the the collective.
Still being me.

You are my only home.
My only comfort.
My closet where I can safely keep my needs.
Where it’s not all lying around.
Like it’s still a chaos inside my head.
Like I still don’t know where to put my things.
Like I still can’t block out all of the sounds that are still blaring.
It’s not there or on the background when you’re around.
And when it hurts still to be here, with you or alone you try to make it better.
You don’t even know the difference you make I guess.
I would have given up already if you weren’t my home at last.

This world hasn’t been made for people like me to relax.
The music from the neighbors hurts my muscles and my neck.
My head and back.
I want to run.
There’s no escape.
Death is so happy but so scary.
I’m scary too think the people that are looking at me outside.
And I want to feel happy.
Running free.
Just like the storm that I was crying in last Wednesday.
I came out with dark lines around my eyes.
Slowly I crawled back up into your arms which are always ready.
Therefore I’m lucky.