„Have you ever wished for all of it to never have happened?“, I ask my witch as we change our scented candles from summer‘s garden flower to autumn‘s cinnamon, and Layla smiles wickedly sad.
Being broken means laying scattered
as pieces ready to be taken
and be put together
for just another attempt.
I threw my heart out
and I forgot the shock of pain
so focused on the light
I forgot the fear the dark.
I trust you
because I‘m leaking
and I know that you are too.
Please leak onto me
leak it all out to me
and please don‘t ever stop.
The darkness must never win.
„You crying gets closer and closer to oil painting style“, my witch giggles.
Because it turns into tales worth remembering?
Let‘s hope so.
Otherwise, getting up over and over again is fucking exhausting for nothing.
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 