A cliché 

To bathe in secluded moment eternally
Because well aware
One might never live it again.



Why? he asks.
Because I have no choice, I respond
Because I’ve never had any other choice
Because when all goes to hell, you pull through
You stand tall, even when crippled
You continue walking, even when dragged backwards
You cry but you keep sight clear

But why? he insists.
I silence my thoughts
Because I have no other choice
But to be strong
Even if
All alone.

The tormenting

I googled melancholy. The second after I had typed it into the search field I knew I was in for a downfall. You see, I sometimes push myself into sadness. I provoke it. It’s as if my brain says, “Hey, you know what we haven’t thought about for a while? Yes, that’s right, unhappiness.” Perhaps I should thank my mind for those subtle thought notifications. The same gentle reminder usually goes hand in hand with shedding some tears.

“Oh, your tear channels seem to have tried up. Let’s see, how about this for today’s cavalcade of waterworks?” Cue search result. 0,35 seconds. 28 million hits.

Thank you Google. Thank you brain. Now I’m off to write. And I purposely didn’t put any mascara on today.

A maybe

They all fall in love with me. It’s inevitable. Some quite quickly, others take their time. I think I prefer the ones who take their time. Because it gives me an inch of hope that I might fall in love with them too. I think it’s the hope that drives me forward, which nurtures me. It allows me to grow. I never fall in love though. And every time I have to explain, every time I’m faced with the puzzled expression, the misunderstood, heart broken, at times even tearful eyes, I just say it as it is.

I’ve taught all of them how to love. Now they’re free to move on with their open hearts. Maybe that’s just enough. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Maybe that’s all it’s ever going to be.

Fuck. I despise the word maybe.