„They don‘t have to love you“, my witch giggled into the coffee I had almost forgotten to take with me on a busy morning. „You know that, right?“
„I‘m not so sure I agree“, I whisper a response that is swallowed by heavy rain all around us.
It always seemed to make things so much easier.
Almost as if it could take away the sharp edges out of all the tough parts in life.
The parts where someone has to approve of us, has to acknowledge our potential or clarify the lack of it.
The parts of life that make the knees give in and the lips stick to the teeth.
„It can be tough to just wish for normal things“, I explain to my witch as she starts cursing the weather for ruining her hair.
It can be easier to wish for things that were never part of the deal.
For things that were never supposed to happen, but are a sweet surprise if they do.
A surprise that can shake up the world, destroy lives and still be a bittersweet tale to tell many years later.
It can save a soul for a sweet second to leave the script behind and improvise.
Even if only for a most secret daydream.
To break the rules and be safe from a reality that is terrifying.
„Yes, you seem so much happier with not just getting the normal things done but also wishing for impossible men to crush on you“, my witch teases me as the storm blows her curls into oblivion.
„Maybe not happier“, I admit. „But able to live.“
It always made my heart jump out of my throat to be tested and questioned. To proof all the things that I knew, even if I was more than sure about them.
It always made me cry in the certain belief that I was already dying when my body was examined.
It put in question my will to live when all the paper work to really exist in this world had to be done.
So, why not fall in love with the other person involved?
Why not rather worry about my hair than about the one response to a likely exam question I always tend to confuse?
Why not rather work on a soft glow of my skin than waste thoughts on the one mole in my back?
And why not look them in the eye and daydream about starting an affair right there on their desk rather than actually doing taxes?
„It‘s easier to cry over not being fucked right on that desk than failing something real“, my witch summarizes our thoughts.
It felt indeed easier to dig up such a grave for ourselves than accept the ones the world had ready for us anyway.
It feels more tempting to get caught in a self-constructed trap than to simply lose.
It’s the least bit of control to hold on to.
Layla giggles once more. „They don‘t have to love you, but you rather cry over that than the rest of your existence.“
As she puts it like that I feel as if I never had my life under control even a little bit.
But at least I’m still alive and trying.
And worrying about my hair, the glow of my skin as well as the weird daydream of being secretly and against all rules kissed in the corner of an office I did not want to be in in the first place had made me go places I never thought I could ever go.
It made me sing.
It made me try again.
And again. And again.
It made me speak in a voice I did not know I had.
It made me overcome myself, appearing stronger than I was, with a shy heart asking to be loved.
“It’s not easy to feel accepted by this messy world”, I tell my witch. “It tends to not love us but rather endure us for a little while.”
Mistress witch writes 