Today, I‘m going to be brave. Just as brave as my witch. I have found my nice man with a needle, and I will be strong.
„If I let you hurt me, I‘ll be one of your pretty girls,, right?“, I sing to myself, while taking off the black dress with the purple ribbons. Way too sweet, and too cold.
Layla comes to me and hands me a coffee extra strong. I love the first deep breath, before taking a sip.
My witch is with me, while I try to give these autumn days a violet sparkle, while daydreams leave a bloody shadow, these days. I put on some pants and a wide, black sweatshirt, and I‘m ready to go.
Ready to go out into the storm of colorful leafes flying by the window.
„I hate giving my body into another person‘s hands“, I say, while putting my boots on.
„I know“, Layla said. „That‘s why you give yourself to someone to inflict pain on you, today.“ And she giggled.
Wasn‘t she cold?
When we stepped outside, it was raining, and Layla still was wearing nothing but a violet gown. Not even shoes. My witch was barefoot.
„Sometimes,, I think that it‘s not the other person that I mistrust“, I say, while walking down the empty street. „It‘s my body I don‘t trust. It tells me it‘s hungry, only to make me throw up. It tricks me to give myself to someone we love, only the scream out in pain.“
And there only was the screaming storm for an answer.
Underneath the mask I put on for entering the bus, I feel almost save. It reduces the parts of skin that I expose to a world that I began to hate. And it can hide a lot of mistakes.
„I wish to be 17 again“, I say. „Without an idea of what pain really feels like.“
„Then, you‘d only have to find out again“, Layla answered, and my stomach gives me this strange feeling of cramping like crazy, but not distinguishing between laughing or crying anymore.
I really hated to give myself into another person‘s hands. Maybe, because I had once chosen the wrong one to do so, and that person stabbed in a way in which no one must ever do.
But that was long ago, and today everything is different. I mean, really everything.
And still, my body feels claustrophobic, at times. Like a prison.
„I‘m used to doctors sending me away, because there is nothing they can do for me“, I say to Layla, while strolling through another empty street, and seeing the lights of the city in distance.
Always distanced …
„We‘re still walking“,my witch only answers, and she was right. I have not turned around and gone home, yet.
„Maybe, accepting myself is just accepting pain, and I have to learn this“, I whisper.
We are there.
I’m staring through the window for a while.
„Will you go in?“, Layla asks.
My heart is racing, and images and memories are flying through my head.
„You will look really cute with it“, Layla giggles into my ear.
Yes, I guess I would.
But this is not about a look, a piercing, or trusting another person with my body.
This is about me accepting pain that I have felt and sometimes still feel, and feel even more since the world has emptied itself.
Will I go in?
I wish I’d told you all my stories.
I want to tell you all my storiesIt’s not that they would changeIt’s just that I would likeTo see themFormA new expressionOn your face I need to tell you all my storiesI am not sureIf they makeSenseThe way I thoughtThey do. I will tell you all my storiesThey frighten meI’m sure you won’t endureI see…
Dealing with darkness in writing
This spring afternoon is glowing pink and tastes like strong tea. It feels much too familiar, and I begin to open up.I feel far away from myself as I start to talk, to babble on about my novel. About all the things I’ve been reading about in the past 5 years. About the 17th century,…
Radical witching novel rewrites at 4 AM!
I wore the same night dress my witch used to wear to get drunk on my windowsill, when I suddenly had an idea at 4 AM. Great ideas always happen at 4 AM, remember? This one however, kept me awake for at least a week, debating it back and forth. At some point my witch…
Mistress witch writes 