Humans are fragile beings.
All looking for a story to tell themselves. A narrative that explains who they are and how they became it and whose fault it is.
Maybe that’s why the world is always so close to collapsing. Because our truths collide all the time.
Does someone watch her
When she’s curled up in her bed
Like she watches herself right now
From far away
Detached from her body
Eyes on the ceiling
If a heart breaks
and no one is around to hear it
does it make a sound?
The same way you sometimes confuse thirst with hunger
If heartbreak happens
and no one sees it
Is it real?
is the same
Sometimes I wonder
What it is
I confuse with
You never answered
When I asked you
What it is that you’re most afraid of
You didn’t care to know
That your silence
Is the thing
I fear most
There’s so much I loathe about the procedure of „finding a job“.
Being judged by a CV that has so little to do with me.
The stuff that’s on there a job positions I had, yeah, schools I attended, but for the most part it does not, in any way, define or explain who I am.
I want to write on my CV how the first time I managed to read a sentence all by myself at the age of two, sparked a passion for words inside of me, that is burning there ever since.
I want to explain to my future boss how the classmates that mocked me and never wanted me in their sports team have made me reluctant towards groups and teamwork, but also made me humble and kind.
I want to write how my hands began to shake at the beginning of every math lesson I had in school and how I always thought there was something wrong with me for not seeing what everyone else could see and that numbers and geometrical shapes are something I’ll never quite comprehend, but that I have a love inside of me that doubles when I share it.
I want the world to know that the gaps on my CV are filled with travels I’ll tell my granddaughter about and encounters at the job center with now-soulmates that changed the way I look at life.
I wish that you could see through all the dropout and the inconsistency and the lack of form.
Invite me to that interview and I’ll let you read in my eyes for a bit, about what really matters to me and how that spark you’ll see in them could never come from something that fits on a PDF file.
I don’t want to apply for a job, I want to run after a calling, I want to smile at colleagues first thing in the morning, with them knowing that I’m not one for small talk, but that I’m there if they need the Big Talk, anytime.
I may have failed the exam, but I gratuated more than once.
What is it about me that blows out every
flame I lit
And evokes boredom where there once was passion
And disgust where there once was love
What is it about me that scares people
Into the woods
Into the darkness
Or is it me who brings the darkness?
What is it about me that makes girls
On the schoolyard
In the back of the bus
What is it about me that makes men want to play me
like a game of chess where the king checkmates the queen
And then smash the board against the wall
Because the silent joy of a victory does not compare to the satisfaction of destruction
What is it about me that brings teachers
And makes their eyes look hollow
When they follow me to the blackboard
That creeps into their heads
What is it about me that disturbs my lovers
haunt parts your tongues can’t reach
What is it about me that brought
rainclouds to my hometown
A stain on the map
We chased her away
What is it about me that finds pleasure in pain
And comfort in agony
Because licking my wounds in retreat
keeps me away from the battlegrounds
What is it about the world
that makes me question myself
The calmness between the storms
Until the next breeze
And shakes your bones
And stirs your cells
And wakes your demons
And leaves chaos
You build yourself up again
To get destroyed again