„I’m not sure how I‘m gonna make it, just know that I‘m gonna“, I repeat the words of my witch and I know that I will be telling this myself every two minutes for the next few days.
Those were the words of my witch, when she was wearing a white gown.
Covered in
sweat and dirt
and blood and tears
and his steps
in the hall,
and his words
in her heart
and his hands
on her skin
and her guilt
covering
the darkness
of this
world.
They became my words, when I was sitting next to the blue painting
on the white wall
and there was
a question
to the universe
which no one
ever answers
and his words
were opening up
a scar
which had healed
in silence
but had kept
bleeding.
„Maybe one day, you will not just manically whisper this to yourself, but actually believe me“, my witch giggles into a melancholy summer night.
“Maybe one day”, I agree and stare onto the sky that went from blue to violet in a smooth shade.
“But until then, everyday will be full of questions I want to have answered but never be forced to ask.”
Haunting Humor of a failed witch
An Iced Latte.A floral dress slipping over the shoulder.“I’m finally at that stage where people congratulate me for keeping my humor”. I tell my witch in horror.“That’s what happens when you survive beyond a certain point”, my witch knows to respond and steals the Iced drink from my hands. Humor has been haunting me.Humor broke…
Travelling to Edinburgh slow and green!
The feeling of being stuck was my main motivation to start this blog and summon my witch, so I love to write blog posts about all of the things that I am once again able to do! Ever since the pandemic does not have a grip around my life anymore, I can do things I…
Finding and keeping my voice
I grew up with depression, but it wasn’t mine. Honestly, I think the main reason why I started talking to my witch on this blog was that I never had people around that could give me a bearable perspective of life in this world, so I needed to rip dimensions apart. My mother never got…
Mistress witch writes 