A court battle that traumatized everyone involved, an open wound that cannot heal so we bleed (a river)
A family feud. Stranger hurting my kid. A career gone wild. Stripped naked and exposed. Trusted friends revealing their true face; dangerous! The tramp of boots of the fascists.
Loneliness. Doubt (the winters are hard) A polarised mind, stretched out like a rubber band between red and blue.
The more I think about it the less I like people.
The more I think about it the less I like myself.
(and yeah yeah the world is my mirror ect ect OBJECTIVE FACTS are to be considered)
Shit happened and it wasn´t the good kind of shit.
I´m not saying we were innocent, I´m just saying that it happened.
The scars are for life.
These last seven years have been parchment thin.
There is reasson to our escape, there is reasons to our ideology and politics, our resistance and our struggle to find new kinds of ways. There is reason.
I don´t write a lot about the past. It still hurts (to feel: Shame. Regret. Anger)
But I´m changing a lot these days, too fast for myself, and so the past is too.
And the scars.
I don´t know what they resemble anymore.
We had the wildest storm, loose roof sheets, hail, thunder, hammering down, woke up in my bed because of raindrops in my face, it felt as if a whirlwind was swirling around my house, everything was shaking.
You see, the world is brutal, don´t close your eyes, take it in, deal with it, embrace it, find your grounding in the wind, that´s what I say, that´s my truth (don´t be afraid of thunder) (but then again I might be a thunder woman so don´t take my word)
Then dance on the roots of the trees that fell
and notice the green of the grass
Life. Wants. To. Live.
Life goes on, always (you can´t stop it)
That kind of stubborness makes me happy. That kind of consistency gives me hope.
All those colors comfort me. All those sounds soothe me. I bathe in the world, I´m looking at the scars and then I kiss them.