Jan 2019
she thought of going home.
It wasn’t a very hard task to go home, she thought.
She kind of was already home, she thought.
She was on top of the roof of her home, she thought.
She sat inte the sofa and she thought; take your clothes on, take your bag, take your keys, where were the keys?
The phone rang, she thought.
She took her keys, she threw them on the floor. Wrong order, she thought.
She took her clothes up from the floor, she put them on, success, first task done, she thought.
She sat on the topp of the roof like on the prow of a ship, a woman on the street screamed up at her, she screamed up at her, she went down, she thought.
Not falling, she just took the stairs, so it was fine, she thought.
The home was covered in dust, she was covered in dust, she tried to clean it of but the water was covered in dust. She wanted to float over the floor as if on one of those stupid hover-boards in the perfect middle of the room, there in the middle there were no dust, she thought.
She lost her hand, it was her left hand, she was left handed, she found her keys, they were on the floor. She took a pen with the hand she had left and wrote, to- do underlined it and continued; walk to bag, take bag, open door and go down all the stairs, go home, she thought.
She sat up and she stood up, she found her hand, it was on the roof, the wind stole it, now she had two hands, she thought.
She walked to her bag, she took her bag and realized she had forgotten to write go to door, how can you open door if you’re aren’t by the door? She laid down, fell asleep on the hallway floor, in her dream she just walked out, down the stairs, said hello to the nice old man sitting in the beach-chair outside and then she just took the train home, or you know, where she lived now. She once had happened to call it her home when talking to her dad on the phone and he got so happy she could hear him crying on the other-side of the line so now she calls the new place where she lives her home. It isn’t though, she thought.
She woke up, she stood in the shower she screamed she tried to rip her heart out, she had to rip herself out of this apartment. She went out on the balcony, she slept on the balcony, she screamed on the balcony, she thought
on the balcony.
Thought about what happens when your brain drops
when the grief becomes to heavy and the brain can’t say stop.
Can’t say no, sorry. can we delay this very important grief-meeting, what about next week ?
She stood up, she thought.
She looked down the balcony, she saw people, people going to their jobs, taking their children to school, people jogging maybe for the first time ever or training for their fifteenth marathon. She thought.
She saw her old neighbor sitting in his chair outside. She thought.
She saw the sun come up, because it happens, she knew.
It wasn’t a very hard task to go home, she thought.
She kind of was already home, she thought.
She was on top of the roof of her home, she thought.
She sat inte the sofa and she thought; take your clothes on, take your bag, take your keys, where were the keys?
The phone rang, she thought.
She took her keys, she threw them on the floor. Wrong order, she thought.
She took her clothes up from the floor, she put them on, success, first task done, she thought.
She sat on the topp of the roof like on the prow of a ship, a woman on the street screamed up at her, she screamed up at her, she went down, she thought.
Not falling, she just took the stairs, so it was fine, she thought.
The home was covered in dust, she was covered in dust, she tried to clean it of but the water was covered in dust. She wanted to float over the floor as if on one of those stupid hover-boards in the perfect middle of the room, there in the middle there were no dust, she thought.
She lost her hand, it was her left hand, she was left handed, she found her keys, they were on the floor. She took a pen with the hand she had left and wrote, to- do underlined it and continued; walk to bag, take bag, open door and go down all the stairs, go home, she thought.
She sat up and she stood up, she found her hand, it was on the roof, the wind stole it, now she had two hands, she thought.
She walked to her bag, she took her bag and realized she had forgotten to write go to door, how can you open door if you’re aren’t by the door? She laid down, fell asleep on the hallway floor, in her dream she just walked out, down the stairs, said hello to the nice old man sitting in the beach-chair outside and then she just took the train home, or you know, where she lived now. She once had happened to call it her home when talking to her dad on the phone and he got so happy she could hear him crying on the other-side of the line so now she calls the new place where she lives her home. It isn’t though, she thought.
She woke up, she stood in the shower she screamed she tried to rip her heart out, she had to rip herself out of this apartment. She went out on the balcony, she slept on the balcony, she screamed on the balcony, she thought
on the balcony.
Thought about what happens when your brain drops
when the grief becomes to heavy and the brain can’t say stop.
Can’t say no, sorry. can we delay this very important grief-meeting, what about next week ?
She stood up, she thought.
She looked down the balcony, she saw people, people going to their jobs, taking their children to school, people jogging maybe for the first time ever or training for their fifteenth marathon. She thought.
She saw her old neighbor sitting in his chair outside. She thought.
She saw the sun come up, because it happens, she knew.
