I took this photo in 2020, and I honestly don’t know what I was ever gonna use it for. Still, I like looking back on it.
It was in July 2020, when my whole life had fallen apart, and I was living in a kind of void, questioning everything that I had done so far, at the serious age of 25 (so I thought). Everything was upside down, and I was so furious with the world. I wanted to have back my busy days, running to appointments, and meeting friends. And I also felt so much regret! Because I had stopped playing my violin, because I had stopped singing, stopped going on stage at all. Because I had stopped believing in my writing ever being published, and even at some point had switched my subject of study to the reasonable promising a better job. I still feel the nervous sun on my skin, smell the inside of my mask, and remember the urge to scream.
Regret can burn the inside apart. Regret is like a silent scream that cuts through skin.
Regret can be liberating! I was singing again, not caring about whoever might listen. I was writing again and luring people into my blog, not thinking about consequences. I was working on a time limited contract not thinking more than a year ahead. And the sex to make up for all of the hurt was worth it either way! Honestly, I think before those experiences, I was a girl that needed to grow up.
I hated living through the pandemic, but I think I needed it. I was on the wrong way. I had lost myself, had built up a pain free version of myself, but I am not that. I am a mess looking for adventures, and I think I have accepted it a bit more.
I go for all the risky choices now. I write, I go back on stage, I study what interests me, and am going for a career my family would never accept. They don’t have to! We don’t talk anymore.
In 2020, I realized that I needed to fall apart completely. It took me years to find my voice to speak with again, and I still haven’t fully recovered yet. But it was worth it. I prefer being me over being okay.
Mistress witch writes 