No matter how many times I wash them, my sheets still smell like you. Not as a faint scent, not as a memory. The most present, true scent in my bed is you. No matter how often I shuffle or skip the song on my phone, they all sound like you. Your voice suddenly sings all the songs of the world to me. Every colour is you, every bird sings your name, the wind whispers you’re there. And the sun then shines through the leaves and lifts my heavy spirits, but there’s a whole where you once were. There will forever be a whole where you were, on the streets and in my heart. You stick to everything I touch, because your life became mine, but wihtout you it’s just not the same.

Kinds of Love

People have loved my body many different ways. Lesbians devoured me for the soft curves and the flat stomach. They kissed my chest and let their fingers wander down and up between my thighs.
Straight men kissed my lips wether they were cracked or soft. They ran their hands through my hair and scratched my back while they put their love in the act. A straight man once told me, he still loved me if my faceshape turned sharp and he did. He still loved me after my surgery, just differently.
Gay men cherished my body, kissed my spine, gave me hickeys on my neck. Under no circumstances could I ever be mad at them for their preferences and repulsives, as they all loved and respected me as much as I deserved it. When today, a lesbian loves me the way a gay man does, I see it as a compliment.
They all touched me differently, but they all loved me the same, regardless of my scars and insecurities. It doesn’t matter what I am loved for. What matters is the way I am loved.

Kinds of Love

Home

I long to know what ‘home‘ means. I’ve never stood in our garden, looked over the grass and thought ‘I am home’. For some reason, I’ve always felt like I don’t belong here. I belong out into the world. ‘Home‘ isn’t something that had been given to me at birth. I have to find it. There is a place for me, yet to be discovered. I cannot settle down before I haven’t found it.
Maybe that will take my whole lifetime. Maybe it’ll take roughly a year. And maybe ‘home‘ isn’t so much a place, but a person, or a certain smell that makes you smile, or a book that takes you back to good old times, or just the sound of a voice that you have utterly fallen in love with. Maybe I will find my home in the chocolate eyes of a man I met in the coffee shop around the corner.

Processed with VSCO with hb2 preset
Processed with VSCO with hb2 preset
Home

Getting started

Getting started has always been the hardest task for me. As for now, this is the first time to get started on WordPress, which makes it even harder. But the easiest way to introduce a new blog has to be introducing the person behind the blog. So let’s talk about me (which is surprisingly easy).

I am a 19 years old college graduate who currently works as a solitary intern at the psych ward near my hometown. I enjoy coffee too much. Besides that, I also enjoy art, poetry, exploring, photography and astronomy. From time to time my stubborn head puts me in quite some trouble. As an ambitious but also lazy person, I often enough slide headfirst into an existential crisis, but these are easily solved by a few guitar jammin’ and meditation sessions. I am a professional tree climber and take too many selfies. My fashion sense is aguably the best you’ve ever seen. Just kidding, I am a giant nerd putting their life on the internet – now also via WordPress!

Getting started