Sofie Petersen

Dearest, accept me as I am.

I’m sorry you couldn’t find me. I have been in the woods. I put myself there because I couldn’t be good. I have been running with foxes and running with crows and I have found myself a home where no one goes.

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life. In the same way the most fertile emotions will be lost to you if you insist on analyzing them.”

I saw clearly that I was lying to myself. And it was because the lie was a sweet one.

To be a real person among real things. My struggle and my danger lie in the fact that I cannot become real, that there are always things that deny me, events that go straight through me, more real than I am and as if I didn’t exist.

This heart of mine, that doesn’t even hear itself from being mute so long.

How nice it would be if by some magic, some enchantment, I could forget everything that had happened in the last few years; forget everything, refresh my mind, and begin again with new energy.