Witches are born in the moment of total system failure.
Before being reborn as a witch, one might have been a child to someone, or a friend, a spouse.
Words hat certain meanings. Gestures and movements were seen.
To the whole existence of a person, there was a response.
But also, before being reborn as a witch, every part of existence was dedicated a certain purpose.
As a daughter, one was supposed to marry a promising young man.
As a son, one was supposed to marry a girl with a marriage portion worth mentioning.
His seed was supposed to grow a new generation, and her uterus was supposed to carry them.
He was supposed to be hardworking, as she was seen as a breeding potential needing certain protection to deliver better sooner than later.
What happens to a body and soul if all of these aspects of life collapsed?
What does pain even mean, if nothing comes out of it?
What do words even mean, if they are never heard?
Surviving a moment of total system failure might make you a witch,
It certainly made me summon Layla, once I realized that I had to survive, and thus, to figure out how to keep breathing while everything is smothered in silence.
It is also true that there still are a lot of things to do after this system failure.
There are fun things, like staying up all night. Or eating chocolate at 4 AM. Or having ten orgasms in a row while thinking of different sitcom characters.
But I also sometimes see my witch having madness glowing in her eyes while searching her empty house for a feeling to conquer her emptiness. I see her yearning for someone to put her head on their shoulder, for a response to words whispered into the darkness.
And I remember how long it has been ever since I had talked to someone else than the cashier at the grocery store …
Being free of purpose means not having to function anymore, and that can be relieving. I certainly enjoyed not having a real place in this world anymore whenever I realized I could have a glass of wine early in the morning and put my boot-wearing feet on my desk while doing so.
But the need to be heard and seen and touched will never disappear completely.
This is just another heartbreaking problem of witching.
Once you have fallen out of reality, who will pet your head and smile at you?
Why I am not a nice girl
I am not your nice, Christian girl next door, as you might have noticed. And this is not a role I play for this blogging project, or to promote my writing and music. This is me, and I stick to it, even when it gets complicated, and believe me: It becomes an issue more often…
Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 