„It‘s time to wear black and be sad.“
My witch and I perfectly agreed with 13 year old me.
Being 25 years old in 2020 felt surprisingly similar. Whatever would make me happy, or a little lesser sad, was not available anymore.
„It‘s constant darkness, and I‘m still running around looking for a light that is nowhere to be found”, I say to Layla, as we stare into the bowl of rice that I do not want to eat. „I have never believed into something good happening. I always knew that having to work was stressful, and relationships were difficult.“
Layla raises an eyebrow. „So why are you still complaining? Sounds like the state you‘re in right now is just the way of life you‘re used to anyway.“
I feel like throwing the bowl of rice somewhere into my chaotic kitchen, but I hesitate.
„I was not always convinced“, I admit. „There are so many good things. But they are all fragile. And sometimes, I‘m mad at the world for being able to break them.“
„It makes you furious“, Layla adds.
I was glad that bowl of rice was not scattered all over the kitchen.
„There are so many great things possible to happen“, I agree. „And sometimes, the world is mean enough not to display them, but creates darkness. It makes me furious.“
„Hope is furious“, Layla said. „Because it‘s there whenever things so deeply needed are not, and it is constantly proven wrong, but must never disappear.“
My witch right.
Hope is a furious and desperate thing.
At least I am still furious about the bad things that happen.
I have only just thrown the bowl of rice at the wall because I was full of hope, I swear.
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