what's bigger - the pain or the love?

Don't forget the big picture.
it's so easy nowadays to lose ourselves in unrealistic perceptions and ideals of perfection we'll never be able to reach.
A flower shouldn't be sad for not being a tree
the same way a tree shouldn't be sad for carrying apples.
We are who we are.
Humans come in all shapes and sizes.
Both our body and our spirit.
Think of the universe.
Picture the milky way.
Picture different galaxies the size of an ant.
Picture an ant.
Think of the way sunrays break through water.
Remember the smell of cinnamon and the kiss of a loved one.
Now, does it still matter?
Is it as powerful as the magic of life itself?
Because it is so fucking easy to forget that being alive is a gift, and everything that's on top of it
should be considered unspeakable value.
Life is something to fall in love with.

about the ones with the fire eyes

there are certain people who light up your world with their darkness.
they've been burned.
not once, not twice, no
they've walked on fire a hundred times,
the flames are still lingering in the back of their neck,
and the corner of their eyes.
but see, they are an australian desert plant
they need fire to blossom
they need to be destroyed until they've completely turned to ashes, so they can grow taller than they've ever been.
they're hurting, but deep down
they know.
and when they recover from their personal storm,
the bullet holes in their body are exploding like little volcanos, spitting out unconditional love
and they tell tales with the eyes of a firecracker to let the cracks of their soul burn
And the second you look into these eyes
you know
they are dancing in a different kind of hell

self love and leather couches

I prefer old furniture and second hand clothes and grey worn out shoes with holes

I like the broken gate and the uneven street and the house that has flowers and other plants growing up its walls.

Because each hole and every scratch just shows they've been used.

They were needed

And they suffered

But they still are.

One day, when i'll have a house i'll let the trees grow in whatever directions they grow, and i won't stop plants from climbing up my rooftop, and i will put that old brown leather couch in my living room that i've found in the back corner of a second hand market, and i will love it all.

I don't need new and i don't need clean and neat and perfect.

i just need my couch to tell me that you can be loved despite flaws

and like i will love my old couch i will love myself

with scratches and cuts in the leather

--

 

chin up

you haven't moved for thirty one minutes now.

your voice has gone lost somewhere in your throat, i'm starting to think that we should go looking for it, its dark in there. of the darkness, the swallowing, bewildering disappearance of light we both are aware, 
and we know that it lives behind our eyes and underneath our hair, and we shouldn't begin to compare this and that, because worry takes breath and we can't pay the air 

your arms have now buried your face in disguise,
while your heart shrinks to the size of a tennis ball
that's thrown around and kicked through the hall and forgotten somewhere in the corner of some wall,
the blanket wrapped around your body as if it could protect you from your insides, 
and the butterflies in your stomach have been murdered by all the world's misery
that leaves you no choice but to curl up to a tiny lump of nothingness 
and your being feels just as forgettable

you're still breathing,

but are you really?

the room, the bed,

it seems like a still life, as if we're a painting, not moving, not changing,

but not all emotions are trapped while framing the helpless attempt to avoid the unbearable
i'm still here. 

and i see them

with cuts underneath their eyes in twenty two shades of dangerous

and you have to hold your breath to check if your lungs even want to keep on doing it

silently hoping they don't?

but they do

and i see those monstrous creatures, with their claws tearing on you from all sides and places

where only hope divides in second chances,

but we wanted to find trees
as high as the rooftops of every city,
and on these branches we'd seize and capture 
this fulfilling breeze of 
a brand new chapter

so please hold on to that one thing, that one string of loveliness they haven't taken yet,
i know sadness is a danger, but believing is a threat 

how many times have they tested and tried

to stab me from behind

when i wasn't even a body,

and you pressed my head against your chest until they left,

until my lips were able to form a silent 'i love you'

and my fingertips drew little circles on your back,

because love is as infinite as pain.

when i was my nothing, i was still your everything,

and that goes both ways,

the best thing about me is you

so chin up
i believe in you too

and my eyes burn from crying

it's half past eleven on a wednesday night of a normal school week
and my eyes burn from crying.

my papers are all due tomorrow,
but i haven't even started.
my stomach is empty.
my heart is weak.
my arms are still sore from today's swim training,
my hair still wet from the shower.
but my lips are dry
and my eyes burn from crying.

it really hurts today,
but i haven't even tried.
my mum never showed me how to stitch.
my fingers never learned how to fix things.
my mind never realized that it needed fixing.
because my heart has been weak.
and my thoughts are tired of being thoughts.
and my eyes burn from crying.

i wish this poem was brilliant
if only things would stay the same.
my life is a pure chaos
don't even try to understand.
my stomach will be empty,
my heart will tear apart.
my mind will dream of dying
and my eyes will burn from crying.

about that one love that breaks you before it shapes you

He was like one of these books you can't let go off until you know the end of the story.

He let my mind blossom and grow like the branch of a young tree.

And i soon became dependent on the sun he showed me and the water he gave me, and found myself desperate to read every single page of his mind.

His words for me where like the cigarettes for him. 

But he was worse than nicotine.

More like a storm, a turnado carrying away everything and everyone. Like a big wave surprising you from behind. Boom.

And while i was just a little fish, he was the entire ocean.

You can see the surface but noone really knows what was still hidden in the dark depth of his waters.

Mysterious.

Magical.

And oh, so fascinating.

But i was just the little fish who got lost in the sea current.

Instead of teaching me how to swim he was drowning me, and i didn't see until my lungs were already filled with water.

To be honest, i was totally fine with him killing me. But then i thought, there might be someone out there who'd be fine with me killing him.

So I walked away.

Not too far, never out of reach. I never left. I simply walked as far as i had to go to be able to breathe again.

And he watched me from the distance, and turned his head.

And i figured maybe it was always meant to be that way.

The clocks kept ticking, and the stars kept sparkling and the birds kept waking me up every morning. But from time to time i came back to the coast to dig my feet into the warm sand and while i sat there listening to the waves that told his stories, i whispered

thank you for being my ocean. i hope one day you will find someone who can be yours

it's 4:21am and my hair smells like vodka

i think it was the feeling of lightness that soothened me so much that i craved for it to never leave my body ever again

i was longing for my brain to stop thinking

i didn't want to function anymore

i have reached a point of my life where i needed to control everything and everyone

and my body collapsing somehow feels like an intense relief and a goddamn sensation at the same time

I am losing my vision, even the blurred lines are fading

my hands are shaking, my face feels numb, my entire body begins to shake, tremble, fall

i don't know whether this is me going up or going down

actually, i don't really know anything anymore besides the taste of this vodka lingering in my throat

and i would be terrified about how fucking fine i am with that if I would still be abe to be terrified at all

but thats exactly the point; I ain't terrified. This kind of numbness doesn't numb the joy, it numbs the numbness that numbs the joy

I am still falling

but I have forgotten that one day I might hit the ground

and in the end, that was the only reason why I kept raising the glass 

i still believe in the universe

In this bruised world

full of forgotten dreams and wasted lifes,

in a society that's all about functioning, achieving, perfectioning

i like to believe in magic

and infinity

and a happy ending.

i am still fascinated by the simple idea of true love,

and i will keep making a wish at 11:11

call me crazy, maybe i am

all these people, people like you, they are lost, you are lost and brain washed, and you tell me

if someone still believes in the impossible, that person must be mad

so go ahead, call me mad, because maybe you're right, maybe i am out of my mind

but even when i'm standing on top of the ashes of my own home

and there's noone left to be loved, nothing left to be saved

i will look up at the sky

and i will patiently wait for a shooting star to spend my dying wish on

you might have all the money and the weapons,

feel free to put me in a cage, lock me up and break my bones

but doesn't it kill you, knowing that you can take my life but never my dreams,

that's the one thing, the one thing that makes me stronger than you.

I will not surrender as long as i have a soul full of hope in this world full of despair.

You might have given up on this earth,

but i still believe in the universe.