I don’t know about you
But she’s now twenty-two
Didn’t think she‘d come this far
But look where we are
She stepped into her light

She went through the desert
Wading through the dirt
Hoping she will have won
When she captured the sun
But that wasn’t quite right

She figured out the sun
is her loyal companion
And now she knows that
The sun sometimes set

But it will always rise again.

I want to keep my room
pretty and minimalistic
But that’s just not realistic
I have way too much stuff
that I want to have on display
like a wall of memories

So I blurt everything out
and I never shut up

My brain is my room,
it’s just not minimalistic
So keeping to myself is not realistic
There is too much going on

Here’s a little me
showing a picture of my friends
There’s a little me
counting my paintings
And over there’s a little me
Flipping through my albums
and another
counting books
Every wall has a portrait of my dreams
and fairy lights decorating nooks

There are things I want to share
Like how soft my hair feels
When I’ve used my favourite conditioner
Like the warmth of my stomach
When I drank my favourite tea
Like the joy of my giggles
When I’ve made a pun to myself

There’s things I want shared with me
Like the smell of your hair
When you come fresh out the shower
Like the sounds of your guitar
When you’re playing all and nothing
Like the feel of your hand
When I hold it with mine

There’s things that we should share
Like the smell of fresh coffee
When we wake up on a Sunday
Like the laughs about nothing
When we share a good mood
Like the feeling of freedom
When we know we belong

Moments like this make me so glad that I moved away from these small minded people judging every soul they see that doesn’t fit their view
Eager to find someone who fits in less than themselves to look down on

Speaking with the words someone else has set in their mouth rather than thinking of their own
Repeating and repeating without realising what concepts hide behind their words
Words that they won’t uncover because they won’t and cannot take a closer look

Once I almost died.
People say they feel alive-
After that.
I didn’t.
I wish I was-
Dead.

No, I don’t. I’m really not-
That serious.
Just want to know:
When Will it stop?
Just curious.

The first time I saw him was when I was 23.
Actually that's not even true, but that was the first time he stayed.
And he was so close this time.
I had seen him a lot of times when I was younger and still in school.
He visited, but he never came in. He just stared through a window to let me know he was there.

When I was 19 and my boyfriend left me, he showed himself a little more and a longer period of time, after he had left me alone for a few years.

But in that year, when I was 23, he came through the door and stood right in front of me and stared at me.
He didn't even leave for a few days or so.
He just stayed; whatever I was doing and I couldn't even see straight because he was so close.
Sometimes he even hugged me.

Since then he never left completely.
He is always outside my window, waiting to come in.
Before I saw him with me, I had seen him with a few other people.
Lots of people to be completely honest.
But I only knew what he looked like. He was tall, very lean and just pitchblack like the night, like a black cardboard cut-out.
Just like a shadow, he doesn't have a face.
There are not the right words to describe him.

What I didn't know at the time was what it would feel like to be with him.
Since that year I can still see him. With me and with others.
And I can feel how others feel around him.

I wish I wouldn't know how he feels, but I am glad that I can see him with others.
Because there is nothing worse than seeing and feeling him, while people tell you that he is not really there.
It hurts way more than it already does.

So I read
I read and I listen to the voice in my head reading aloud for me, for no one else to hear
I sit under my window and the birds cry for my attention
The tree lushes in green to catch my eye
And the sky blows up in bright blue like screams
But it is no use
The waves in my brain are not crashing in
The electricity turned off by emotions I can’t reach
A blank canvas trying to be painted when the colours melt together like cheese in a pan
The only sound that gets through are the words being mouthed by a bodiless soul stroking a numb silhouette
So I read
I read and I listen to the voice in my head reading aloud for me, the only thing I hear