Forget the world with me

Frägst du dich, wie lange es wohl dauert, bis es genug geschneit hat, dass ein erfrorener Körper vom Schnee zugedeckt wird.

Während ich bewundere, wie der Schnee  tanzend zu Boden schwebt,

Bewunderst du, wie der Schnee die ganze Welt stilllegt.

Während ich das vom Schnee gedämpfte Lachen der Kinder in der Ferne höre,

Hörst du, die vom Schnee erstickten Stimmen.

You would not believe how hard it is to have mommy issues

If I said I hated my father—especially one with his complexion,

No one would bat a fucking eye

But mommy issues?

Oh no

Those are never heard of

I am out of my mind for not liking you

How dare I dislike the woman who birthed me?

Fed me?

Changed me and raised me?

How dare I dislike the woman who dismissed my thoughts?

My feelings and my beliefs?

For constantly reminding me she brought me here?

That she birthed me?

Fed me?

Changed me and raised me?

And I would like to note that I said disliked

Because for the life of me I can’t fucking hate you

She may have dismissed my thoughts

My feelings and my beliefs

And she constantly reminds me that she birthed me

But she also fed me

Changed me and raised me

So I guess I have to be happy

I am a mirror. I am everything she could have been

And everything she should have been.

I am every scar she was, every mistake up to now she has made, every decision in life and every flaw she sees. I am her mirror. I am every love she has had, every hope she has and every dream that was taken forcefully from her. I am everything she wishes and everything she wants me to be.

I am a mirror.

I am a mirror of all the hate she unleashes,

All the poisonous words that spill from her.

But I am not her.

So, forgive me mother,

When I cannot take those words and bury them.

When the only thing I can do is engrave them in my heart

And spill a thousand tears.

I am her mirror.

I am everything she has ever told herself; I am everything she has yet to say. I am every unspoken thought, every unachievable desire, every heart wrenching experience she has been through.

I am my mother.

I am sorrow, I am agony, I am pain and every unfulfilled wish. I am all the dreams she wasn´t allowed to have. I am all the cold words and harsh things she says. I am all the hate that spills out from her. I am the loneliness and grief she has felt, all the agonizing things she has said and each and every devastating, heartbreaking regret, and remorse she has had.

I am my mother's words and thoughts, her goals and misery.

So please, forgive me when my words fail me, and I break down: Forgive me when I yell and shout. Forgive me when I beg and cry, forgive me when I fail to comply

And I shout vicious things,

Forgive me when I hate too loudly,

So, forgive me, because I am my mother.

Forgive me, for I am my mother.

And mother, forgive me.

For when I hurt you when I blurt out foul words

And I see that look on your face,

I see you and you see yourself once again,

The failed you, the lonely you, the hurt you, the version of you full of grief.

I hurt us both.

For you have given up everything for me, for you are not you anymore

And I am not me.

when you turn 21, do you instantly feel like you are an officially adult? or do you still look for meaning in your life now more than ever because you are starting your life in twenties? do you have your life sorted out immediately or is there an instant flush of ideas, emotions, and perceptions you get when you grow older. 

is growth really associated with age and why do we put so much big deal with age? why do we associate numbers to growth? I don’t feel 17 when I turned 17 and as a matter of fact I still don’t feel like an adult even I’m already 21. I still yearn for my mother’s warmth, my father’s cooked dishes and is need of my sister’s expertise on technology. There’s still so much to learn and yet people see you as if you got your whole life planned out. I actually did once (wrote it on my notes) but now I don’t really know what do I do. am i more mature? did i have a character development or do I still hung onto habits that are deemed unflattering with regards to today’s societal standards? i for sure still possess a lot of problematic traits. i curse, complain, and is highly critical of other people which is why i think i am so hard on myself. it is because of the way i see other people that directly reflected onto my character as a person. which in turn made me to question my abilities, personality and my wholeness. do i meet their expectation of me or can i even still do the things i used to be good at. questions like that slips through my mind, though not always conscious, affects me. 

She is slightly shorter than me;

She has a slightly rounder face.

Her head is swarming with dreams:

That hasn't changed.

Perhaps a tear falls down my face,

And perhaps a few fall down hers,

As our eyes meet,

And I hug her.

I introduce her to my girlfriend,

I show her my pride;

I introduce her to my best friends,

And she can't believe how amazing they are.

I show her my art, I show her my music,

I read her my poems, she watches me on stage.

She smiles.

She is at home.

She will have it all,

One day, when she is me.

Her dreams will come true,

And her world will be better.

I'm glad she kept going;

I'm so so proud of her.

Someday I hope my future self

Ich habe erlernt, eine Sprache zu sprechen, In welcher gesagt und gedacht sich nicht gleichen, Die einfachsten Sätze die Zunge mir brechen Und Worte zum kommunizieren nicht reichen.

Ich spreche, doch sage nicht das, was ich meine. Ich schweige, doch Stille bedeutet es selten. Wo Klarheit gebraucht wird, erlange ich keine, Da herrschende Definitionen nicht gelten.  

Und oft, viel zu oft bin ich sprachlos beim Reden. Noch während die Worte die Lippen passieren, Bekomme ich Zweifel, verdächtige jeden, Nicht hören zu wollen, die Lust zu verlieren.

Es fällt ihnen schwer, die Bedeutung zu sehen Und schwerer noch, diese Barriere zu brechen. Denn all ihr Gesagtes ist schwer zu verstehen. Ich habe verlernt, ihre Sprache zu sprechen.

Wind und Wellen spielen ihr altbekanntes Spiel

und in der Sonnenwärme fehlt zum Frühling nicht mehr viel

Das Wasser, es singt Lieder, die Äste recken sich,

das Jahr erwacht zum Leben und weckt dabei auch mich

~

Doch wie den Weg zum Ufer ich heute fröhlich fand

fand leise jemand anders sein Ende dort am Strand:

Ein Blässhuhn liegt im Bette aus Steinen stumm und still

und wartet auf den Fährmann - ob er's dort holen will?

~

Ein Leben auf dem Wasser, dazu des Fluges Kraft,

in dieser wilden Freiheit nun eine Wunde klafft,

so liegst du dort geschunden und von den Wellen nass,

kam es aus heit'rem Himmel oder schwante dir schon was?

~

Es fängt der neue Frühling mit deinem Ende an

und zwischen See und Angel flüsterst du mir dann:

Ich bin so hoch geflogen, was ist, was jammerst du?

Das Leben bot viel Gutes, das Schlechte lass in Ruh'

~

Mit diesen Worten gingst du und ich darf weilen fort,

gab dir den letzten Segen an diesem stillen Ort,

an dem die Sonne untergeht - für dich ist es schon Nacht -

wo immer du auch bist, gib bitte auf dich Acht.

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