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.

When you got more tears behind you than ahead the little things become more painful.
The bigger stuff you’re used to already.
And when you’re tired everything seems useless again because the big fights are done.
You just want peace but the war is still inside.
You just want a good time but everything is dull. 😪😵

I used to be scared that people would forget me when I would die.
Now I’m scared that people will remember me for who I’ve become.
My journey in this world has been too long now.
And yet I’m not done.
💀😢💀😢💀

When everyday is such a struggle and you aren’t even happy but you dream….
Dream about living when you’re asleep. With good people around you.
And you don’t have to tell yourself anything to calm down.
Because everything is just happening without you having to suffer so much.
It just happens, you’re just there for the experience.
That’s what waking life should be too.

But sometimes the OCD will enter the dream.
And you still fight like while you’re awake.
Or you stress out because you have to go to class.
Even though you don’t go to school anymore.
Not at your waking state.
But these moments come and go.
And as long as the OCD doesn’t wake you up with thoughts it should be ok.

It’s better than the suffering while awake.
Cause it doesn’t work for you and you feel so bad about it.
It gets too much and you get stuck.
You don’t get stuck in dreams.
You float from one moment to the next.
But will you remember people and experiences if you would only ever dream?
Dreams are not like leaving the body completely, you just have a part of your brain shut down for a moment.

You can remember dreams.
Some details.
A lot of the time you remember the feeling.
A very true type of feeling that you can’t quite feel while awake.
So when everyday is a struggle you can dream free and be happy.

Life and death.
Words that we use.
A human life.
And dead body.
A plant, an animal, a creature.
Nature.
Human experience.
Experiencing dying, near death, loss, watching death/dying.
Saving life, killing.
It’s not so precious when you’re suffering constantly, don’t save me!
When I’m trying to survive I need the option to die.
But there’s no “right way to die”.
When it’s your time then you’ll leave.
Maybe that’s the only “right way”.
And maybe I won’t leave the way I would like.
I can only see it as an option which it is.
But I don’t think you should just act in crisis.
That’s not the time.
But it happens, just like other deaths that feel useless.
But it’s a journey that ends.

I’m late but I need to take my time.
Nothing goes smoothly.
Because I’m late and because of needing time.
Time to take it easy today.
Not pressuring myself even though I’m not getting where I want to be.
Trying to accept that…

I want much more.
I want to be at a messy party.
Small black dress, dark smudgy eyelids, stones on my neck, wild hair and face.
I’m not that “it-girl” that everybody follows because of her artsy aesthetic.
Perfectly captured, dusky old scene, old looking places.
Young, skinny, bold, dreamy eyes, stained lips smile.

Playing the right music.
Playing in some apartments with silly unmatched objects inside.
Always “out of it”.
Always seeming unbothered.
Or passionately craving, emotionally unstable.

Am I too late?
Am I too bothered, captured by the grasps of this world?
Too much to untangle…
I can have my moments of freedom.
But to get there I’m too late a lot.
I need time.
But I’m late already, always.

As I am standing by the river there’s a flower. Floating.
Such a dark flower pretty.
One of its kind.
Drops lay down upon its surface.
It is drowning but afloat.
It is dying.

Eventually.
But I’m following it’s journey for today.
For tonight.
As I think about our lives that we have lived. I’m still here but you have crossed.
Over to another river.

But I still see you and feel you, energy coming.
Because those rivers they can cross.
And I’m floating.
Crossing too.
But I’m still here.
Watching.
The river, the flower and feeling.
Pain and agony and love.

And maybe one day there’s a flower growing.
Again.
I will lay my body down and cry.
A new life.
The next kind.
The river reflects the sun.
Alive as a river is a flower so new.
So old and broken.

So sad and so alive, so warm and so wise.
Because of watching and growing.
Drowning and dying.
Floating and crossing.
Forever.
You, me and everything.
Like a running river.
Or sleeping like a flower.
Floating.

💜🪷🥀💧

Trying to block out the pain, the noise, the restlessness.
With love.

Love, compassion and trust.
I have been resentful towards all the struggles.
But what does that bring to anyone or myself?
Although it’s very hard to let go of this feeling.

When I try to live but it’s been so rough and it still feels like that.
And I get distracted all the time from what I really want.
To do, to be, to send out.
I wish it was all over when it keeps not working.

And also because I know all about what it’s been like in the past.
What it felt like.
How I’ve been dead for years.

Because of true suffering and not sleeping.
Not getting myself together.
Not having the right environment.
No peace.

Always fighting.
With a bed.
With noise.
Discomfort.
Pain.
Thoughts.

That brain, it’s torture.
That brain that I tried to **** while feeling dead.

And I close my eyes and say: shhh.
Let me be free.
Or I sing or drink.
I sink into darkness.
Darkness that’s peaceful.

While still fighting.
Knowing about the fight.
It never leaves me fully.
Only when this brain dies.
And I will bring this knowledge to a place where it’s save.
Where I’m save.

Where I’m not dead.
But in love.
In love and free.

Death is always there.
I love you for it.
Show yourself please
so I can be there too.
Maybe I am you.

But you’re better than the beer.
The music that’ll be everywhere.
With you.
And me.
Within.

I cry cause you’re there but I can’t see.
My tears are so useless and blurry.
Over and over.
I will not be able to live.

I can’t love like you.
Like I really want.
Feel it.
In love.
I’m in love with death since I’m not able to live.

Since I’m not really able to love, be in love.
With anything but music and death.
***** and good friends.
But not life, not alive.
I hate it.

And as much I hate life I love death, more and more.
Close my eyes.
I hate being alive.
Still.
Death is always there.

I don’t think I can get through this.
Not another way, time, especially night.
Saw my brain in 1,2,3,4,5.
Saw me in half.
I don’t know.
Call me selfish, break my shell, break my body.
It’s stuck anyway, and it’s been that way since birth.
I know there are ways to set it free.
Many times they don’t work.

You’re not real, are you?
Yet my lips I kept soft, just for you.
The pain of life’s too great.
And we cannot be even if you were for real.
But when you appear into my dreams they are so intensely pure, so good.
You trigger all the good parts deep inside me.

Yet I cannot sing freely when you’re there in person.
It’s too much.
I choke.
In all the feelings and all of those tunes.

You play on your piano.
I forget the world, I try everything to block out everything.
Everything but your tunes.
And your voice.

Alcohol, spicy foods, the right type of love…
Oh what the hell?!

They keep us well and better but life keeps on being a pain in the ***.

We’re trying our best.
What else can we do?

Trying not to be too destructive in all the madness.
Just to be ok for the people we care for, the next day, the pet we feed…

I noticed a moment of silence.
So I drowned myself in it.
But then the noise came back.
And now I’m drowning in pain.
Can’t escape.
I tried but I want to stop trying.
I want it all to stop.
I want to drown.
Forever and not wake up from the dreams.

You called me darling.
Last night.
I want another night.
Another dream.
Another deep sleep.
And actually I wish I could stay there…

I guess I’ve experienced too much of life to care about it.
When people ask me questions about how I’m doing, I’m not responding.

I really don’t give a **** about what I should or shouldn’t be doing.
I’ve done enough, life’s done enough.
Please spare me those ideas about “manifesting”.
Just another way of controlling.
Life will be unfolding itself.
I’m just a spectator trying to make it worth it.
Worth being a part of the show, making myself look the way I want to.

I guess part of me always knew what I didn’t care for.
And what I did find important.
Too important because I can’t get it perfect.
But I learn to bargain, I’m still bargaining.
Daily for the way I want things.

Give me the music and the *****.
The bed that feels nice.
The man that cares.
Are the other feelings not just inside me?
A reflection of my own longing.
Never reciprocated or barely.
Not here.

There was a rose.
Heavy and wild.
Feeling like a tunnel or going down.
He loved sleeping under the stars.

She loved being in the painting.
But it doesn’t matter.
It’s just words.

What about the beer?
Special kind.
It really is.
Let me fly.
I’m just in here listening and loving.
We only dream when we sleep deeply.
Sinking.
Into all the real truth.

I love you,  I make you love me.
Cause you are all I need.
Like special beer and wine.
And all that’s good.
Nothing else is worth it.
Living for. 😢

There’s a rose.
And everybody loves her.
And she’s dying.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The idea of suicide…..almost like a drug.
Not quite.
It changes the sky.
For the better or worse.
When it becomes a plan then it’s all too much.

But when it’s just a dream, a perfect one.
And one day it may come true.
Like a drug it brings liberty, peace and perspective, it shows the world in a different light.

When you try it and you come out you’re alright sometimes.
A little sick but fine.
Sometimes you can’t focus on anything, just for a while.
But if you stay in that trip or in those dark plans you can’t live…

It’s there any time.
Like a strong beer, whiskey, cocktail, wine because life is not right.
A dream, an option, an escape.
It’s a part of life even, all there to use.

An escape for a while.
But it can’t become all consuming.
Then it’s no longer a dream.
It’s a horrible reality that just kills.
In the worst way.

So I let it be an escape for a moment and not a recipe for disaster.
I have made that mistake.
It was only my luck that I came out right.
But being in a nightmare like that is an inescapable horror.

Sedate me.
Too many reasons for being sad.
Too many things not being right.
I can’t make them… right, they’re not alright.
It’s never right.
Same old, not alright.
Sedate me.

It’s Friday night.
You didn’t reply.
I’m on the couch.
Can’t feel the wine.

It never hits, only beer does.
And you’re never here until I reach out.
But then it’s awkward.

I still don’t know what you think of me.
But probably you don’t really want me the same as I want you, dream about you.
You old guy, Gemini.

I opened the door towards your love somewhere in 2015.
I was so lonely, young and crazy.
Always in hell unless you took me into your world or I created a new world.
You were there…

But now it’s 2023, almost 24 and I have survived somehow without you.
I learned not to love you.
Only in my dreams.

I had to.
I had to.
I had to.
I still have to.

I want to close my eyes black and white.
Shiny drops and blurry.
Beer at night, white lace on my dress.

Outside on the grass.
Looking down.
Where are you, where’s the music?

My hair is down and so am I.
My eyes are a mess and so am I.

I close my eyes and run.
I close my eyes and dance.
I close my eyes and dream.

Wish I could sleep.
With you next to me.
For the rest of my life.

My mind wondering off far.
My body at ease.
Carried by love.

All of what I am here buried in this world still now.
I want my body buried…
I’ll be running towards foggy fields.

This energy.
Created by this world.
And me, my life, my body, my mind.

It’s going to stay and it’s going.
Like shiny drops and blurry sight, beer at night.
And lace.

Lying outside on the grass.
With you.
And the music.

Endless fields of daisies.
Bare feet and black dress.
It’s still dewy.
I’m still sleepy, tired.
I don’t want to try again to get up and leave.
Be someone else.
I may roll over and dream away if I can.

But there’s a line of laundry.
I’m waiting for the sun to dry it.
So I can shake my clothes.
Before tomorrow I will be done.

The same things now repeatedly daily.
These are the days I didn’t think I’d get to see.
I wanted to die young.
These are the “old daisy days”.
Everything keeps on repeating.

I’m so over trying to get up and leave.
Trying to put on a face.
I can dream in my field feeling so exhausted.
My troubled mind can lay down in daisies.

Waiting for a line of laundry.
Not too long, you don’t want to be having to shake too many eventually.
When the next round hangs to dry.
It wears you down.
Cause it has to be right.
Or it feels too bad.

But now I’m stuck.
And I’m so over everything in here.
I’m so done trying to change or do anything to help myself getting up.
Maybe I should just lift up a foot.
Pick a little daisy.

And take the smallest little steps.
Think in possibilities still.
Nothing to lose.
Lying in a field of old daisies.
With a tired mind.

I’ve come to put a limit to your pain.
To early cold morning tears.
Chug me down like a special beer.
Today is where the flowers bloom and the wind is light.
You’re running free, the dewy sky brings you to life.

Everything is dark.
But you’re fighting for your freedom.
And I’ve come to the rescue.
I’m your music and your special place inside.
I’m your first sip of a perfect tea.
And I’m the arms you wake up in.

I’m safety and freedom.
I block out the noise.
I set you free like a dove.
I’m everything you dream of.
Everything that’s inside.
Of you.

I’m yours and I won’t leave, I will love you till the end and beyond.
I’m the reflection from your eyes.
I’m the colors that are with you and the darkness full of magic.
I’m the Christmas lights.
I’m the sparkling sea.
I’m the deep dive.
The crying rain.
The thunder and lightning.
The fireworks.

By one touch you will feel me all over.
And I’m overwhelming you in the best way.
But you can’t always reach me.
I’m rare to find.
But when I’m there everything is right and your dreams are bright.

In this world you can’t be with me most of the time.
I’m just the longing that keeps you dreaming loving the feeling.
I’m that one special person.
That place underground.
Inside your super conscious.

My mind is a cracked glass.
Strong with cracks.
Don’t use pressure or it breaks.
There will always be cracks.
And you can’t pour from an empty cup with cracks.

Shattered glass.
I’m a snow globe inside.
I’m trapped in a house that’s dark.
With many rooms and stairs and hiding spots.
I go there often in my dreams.
There are visitors a lot.

Sometimes I walk outside.
I’m on the road leaving the house.
I go to many places.
I meet so many people.
Familiar and new.

My heart is so bold and dark in my dreams.
It can handle any situation.
So many adventures I go through.
Sometimes it’s with the people I know when I’m awake.
Sometimes strangers….

But I can wake up screaming softly because I’m back in my cracked mind.
Cracked world.
In a dark house in a snow globe.
With much less room.
Less room than the one from my dreams.

⭐️🌙💫✨

I wish I couldn’t see the things that aren’t ok.
I wish I didn’t feel the pain.
I wish I didn’t hear the noise.
And that I was just able to move without the tension.
I’m so stuck.
I’m so sad.

I wish I could leave this dark place and the pressure.
I wish I was free from everything.
I wish it stopped, all of the pushing and pulling.
At last.

I’m so dark but my hair is light.
Dying it won’t fix anything.
So I try not to be tempted.
Leave me be, I’m so sad and so tired of it.

As I’m sitting here stuck again.
Every try is thrown back down by another noise.
A feeling stays.
Discomfort.
Too much.
Why do I try?
It’s takes so long to get anywhere.
It takes so much.
And then later hopefully there’s peace.
An evening with music and beer.
But before there’s a war.
And I never really win, I just get through it.

There’s nothing better than being consciously out of it.
Carrying that white flag all aware of it.
Breaking the barriers.
Wasting away in my comfort that’s slipping away every second.
And hopefully coming back.

I learned enough in this lifetime.
Yeah, I’m sure, this life that feels like a hundred times its time.
It’s time to fly.
But I’m so numb and sad, nothing left to do or lose.

But really nothing left that works.
And that’s ok, I guess.
Trusting fate because I still believe.
Not in God but in the universe, journeys going the way they’re supposed to.

But don’t you tell me I can’t drink alcohol.
I should’ve been dead if my journey wasn’t so long.
I should’ve been dead but fate…
That f*cking fate.

I don’t understand it but apparently  I still need to be inside this trap, I do feel trapped.
I’m trying my best.
But I’m never really free.
Just a little when the music and the beer will hit me just right.

Oh, fine.
Running with the rules, running through the lines, running on a treadmill.
A hundred times, a hundred lifes long!

I breathe you in without knowing.
And all of a sudden I feel dizzy.
Can’t breathe down.

I remember that girl I used to be living with this feeling.
Breathing.

The pain from somebody.
And the person doesn’t know.
The pain I’m in after I’ve been breathing.
Your smoke.
Your ****.
My muscles are stuck.

I’m in agony for hours, stuck staring.
In this state of tension, anxiety and spasms.
And nobody takes it seriously.
Second hand **** smoke attack.
I used to have these daily because my neighbor didn’t care.

HE smoked so I got stuck or had to flee.
Everywhere but home.
And now having an attack again I’m put right back in that state.

Back to that girl I once was.
The girl that had to face this while breathing in some else’s horror and smoke.
Because she had no other place to be.
Could only run when it was possible or scream.

And then the police took her.
Or they took her because somebody was mean to her and she screamed.
And there was loud noise and it never stopped.

Or somebody was unreasonable but she was the crazy one so the police was called on her.
And she got stripped and touched even though she tried to explain that she had autism.

She didn’t want to be touched.
They touched her everywhere and put her in a cel for hours on her own.

With only a shirt and underpants.
They watched her walking around in circles.
Look at her, the crazy one….

Crazy insane world as usual.
I’m not surprised anymore.
Sometimes I just get reminded of exactly how it felt and it’s a lot to take in.

Especially because I know that I also had my moments of ignorance and I hurt the wrong people.
And I don’t forgive myself even though it was part of the process.

The development, the balance, the truth, the real feelings that are out there.
The darkest pain.

I know it too well.
And knowing is not easy ever.
But maybe it will set me free one day.

I take off my pants whenever I can
The ***** helps me remember to dream.
Am I alive or am I dead?

Changing nicknames to somewhat rebirth me.
Never really but it makes it bearable.
To just be dying and fighting for release.

And I don’t think that being alive is like feeling alive.
I would feel more alive if I knew the door was open to the other side.
Open wide to leave when I need to.

But it’s not that simple.
It won’t remain open.
And when it shuts it shuts for a long time again.

Eve is taking me back to the essence now.
C6ss6ndr6 is reminding me that this is all a dream.
And the ***** helps me.

I take off the layers but they swirl around inside.
Like ashes of confetti.
As I am dancing….
They are still a part of me, these ashes have created me.

Most night I keep on seeing the jellyfish above.
Floating in the sea.
A man’s hand pulls me up saying: Moving back to the shore is never easy.

Jellyfish lying on the shore.
Are they alive or are they dead?
You tell me.

Blurred vision, always starving, on a verge of crying, staring.
I wish I could run, fly, sing.
But nobody is listening so why should I move?
Nobody’s there now but my own pain, catatonic staring, still restless but stuck.
Drinking but only causing my eyes to sting.
I wish I was free enough to see death as a blessing but I’m scared.
I can’t eat, can’t not eat.
Cannot prepare for a party.
So I want a surprise party.
Love and experience.
Cause if I can’t have a moment of freedom I’d rather be dead.
I’d rather not wake up, my dreams are amazing but the days are exploding.
Agony of nothing.
Thinking.
Feeling empty and heavy.
I wish I was free enough to see death as a blessing but I’m scared.

Where have I been?
Ever.
Blurry just cramping and tightness, not living.
I wish I could dance and float.
Like a flower on the river.
Not thinking about life living.
No catatonic staring stiffness and pain inside my head that’s never been mine.
I’m experiencing a place I don’t call save since I was born.
I’m sinking down, trying not to drown completely in toxicity.
Cause you still need me for when you come back.
One day you’ll have to let me go and I need to.
Learn to let go.
I’ve grown but feel so down, can’t fly high though I still dream but I know it’s a lie.
In this life.
It’s only keeping me going.
Going into the largest space full of just voids.
And just NOTHING.
Nothing but thoughts and longing, I try to dance but I’m down.
Heavily sinking down into nothing, I wish I was free enough to set myself free….
Free me and let me find freedom.