Cynnie

As long as I keep going As long as I don't let my mind wander As long as I stay distracted

I am not depressed

I make sure of it Filling my brain with uncountable voices Covering it with a blanket made of thorns Bleeding means I am still alive

I am not depressed

Keep going Keep working Stop feeling

Let me be a sinner

Red and orange

Syrup trickling in my arms

Let me breathe you

Cotton candy waves

Dissolving my lungs

Indulge me my love

Just once more

Unless it's a Friday, when I don't show up for rehearsal. But other than that

Well unless it's a Tuesday, when I don't submit a piece for poetry class. But other than that

Well unless it's a Wednesday, when my therapist will suddenly have an open space. But other than that

Well unless it's a Sunday, when my mother is left with an empty chair at family dinner. But other than that

Well unless it's a Thursday, when my friend keeps calling me for our weekly check-in. But other than that

Well unless it's a Monday, when my cat doesn't get his extra special treat and keeps clawing the door. But other than that

Well unless it's a Saturday, when there is nobody to give my presentation at random PowerPoint night. But other than that

I do it all the time Whenever the grown up world gets too much too demanding too difficult

I close my eyes Think back to the childhood I wish I had

Gather my stuffies Put them all in a row A giraffe in my arms Pinguins, bears, frogs Sticking their heads out from under the princess pink blanket

Chocolate chip cookies One at a time Drinking yoghurt with strawberry taste A white mustashe stains my face

WIde eyes Glued to the TV screen Humming along to my favourite fairytale

Until I fall asleep And get transported back Hopefully different

Feed me Brush my hair Sing me to sleep Calm the voices

I long to crawl Into your skin As a newbord cries To return to their mother's belly

It keeps working doing it's best to figure it all out no matter how many thought you start out with You end up with

well I don't know what you end up with I don't know what I am trying to think I just know my brain is working overtime Trying to tell me something But all it actually spells out is

Yes, I know I am supposed to love them, I am supposed to feel free, to feel like I can rest, to feel like I could do anything in the world.

But that's the problem, anything. It's too much. It's overwhelming.

Not for a place, not for actual home I feel homesick for when things used to be easy Highschool Every day the same Teachers who tell me what to do Being home at three And not having to think again For the rest of the day

I love the list

Handwritten ofcourse

I love crossing the items off

With a purple sparkly pen

I love holding the basket

Imagining the weaving pressed onto my arm

I love picking the fruit

Making them shine with my skirt

I love the freshly made bread

Hearing it crackle in my hand

I love sneaking through the aisles

Waiting for the box of cereal to reveal it's hiding spot

I love scanning my produce

And making a deal with the fairies inside the machine

I love unpacking from my travels

Giving them all their proper spot

I want to make stuff for the sake of it

I want to draw

And write

And craft

Just for me

Not for whomever gets to see it

So I will try

Try to make something

Anything

Especially bad stuff

And I will try

To do so daily

Though I won't beat myself up for it

For it is supposed to be fun

Turns out, once drawing is no longer mandatory (I graduated artschool :)) the act of making art becomes a lot more fun

Armen wijd uitgestrekt Ik zie de oranje gloed die me door Mijn oogleden heen verwarmt

Constant in beweging Constant in rust Op de golven

Ik zie ze niet aankomen Soms klein Voel ik mijn vingers  – alleen mijn vingers deinen Met mijn ademhaling mee Soms verassend groot Spoel ik bijna kopje onder Dat mag Is mijn gezicht weer verfrist