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Kristina Oct 2020
It isn't just good music, long baths and good food.

Salf Care is

bearing yourself crying for several hours,
saving yourself from hyperventilating,
drying your tears
and watch them flow again a few minutes later;

taking a shower,
eating healthy and enough food,
not fighting your feelings just to function again
but let them be and deal with them;

talking to a friend,
hearing somebody's voice,
making that call you should have made days ago
but were too afraid of;

going to bed early,
getting up the next morning,
searching for the beauty in your daily life
although it's horribly hard to find something right now.

Self Care ist like giving yourself a long hug,
pulling yourself up,
and telling yourself it's not to late to fight and fix it.
Kristina Oct 2020
37
My wrath is massive.
To not hurt anyone
I keep it locked away.

Now the only one who's hurt by it
is me.
Kristina Sep 2020
Before giving in
to a world that is corrupt,
betraying my ideals
and selling my morality

I'd rather fight
to keep them protected
while I take one step closer to the end
every day.

I'm not gonna survive
by selling myself out.
Kristina Sep 2020
What if
we were all once made
to shine
like the stars
in the sky?

What if
we were meant
to be beautiful?

What if
we were light?

But then
we got
corrupted.

What if?
  Sep 2020 Kristina
Julie
As I stand,
Starring at my own reflection,
I peel back layers.
Layers of lies, deceit, manipulation;
Layers of empty promises and half hearted attempts.
Layers of misguided hope and hollow happiness,
Layers of shallow expectations.
What’s left is the ugly truth.  
A story of abuse
In which I am the victim
And the villain.
Kristina Sep 2020
Thoughts racing,
trying to fill another page of this book with my story,
sewing in new sheets of paper to build some space.
Space between me and the page saying
The End.

Turning the pages, looking back at some from many years ago.
I read about a little girl, happily exploring the world.
She doesn't know about pain or despair.
Just look at her glowing eyes.

Progressing in the story, a few years later.
I watch a little girl, crying, covered by the blanket.
She doesn't want others to see, 'cause they'll just laugh anyway.
In her home, she has no room.
The whole house is filled with her father yelling.
The whole house is filled with her mother crying.
The only place for her sorrow is deep inside herself.
Just look at her puffy eyes.

Skipping a few chapters, years of searching and hoping.
I hear a little girl, laughing loud.
Nobody heard her screams when she needed them.
At least, when she's being loud, they notice her.
Being lost and out of control she hurts others.
When they scold her, they look at her.
Just look at her pleading eyes.

Going through pages of her trying to understand what she's done.
I hear a little girl swearing she'll never hurt anybody else.
She'd rather hurt herself to cope with the severe cold of this world.
So she builds a wall to keep everyone out,
to trap the wrath inside.
But she forgot the fear was already there.
Just look at her empty eyes.

Flipping the pages to read the ones from a few weeks ago.
I see a little girl drowning in tears and self doubt.
Apparently the wall she built long time ago is still standing strong.
A lot of 'Wanted' posters are hung on it from both sides,
but neither can reach through.
Just look at her anxious eyes.

I'm sitting here crying,
hoping my tears will wash away the letters on these pages.
But they won't.

So I'll keep on sewing pages.
Hoping one day I'll read the one about a girl who's come home.
About a girl who tore down the wall,
about a girl who built a place in a house to live in.
Until then I hope to have enough strength to put
space between me and the page saying
The End.
Kristina Sep 2020
even
the
main
character
of
my
own
story
?
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