#mascaralashes

“soms hebben stille mensen wel degelijk wat te zeggen. ze zijn gewoon voorzichtig met wie ze het delen” ~ heel weinig mensen begrijpen dit.

I have a keen interest in words. I don’t really know why, but words enchant me. I like writing, it was the best type of therapy for me when things were really tough. It’s nice to see other writers and poets write about your emotions, it takes away the effort to deal with it alone: to relate is easier than to define.

 “I wanted to talk about it, about struggling with the emotions I put away deep inside years ago. But no one asked me, which was exactly the point: you can get lost and lonely in a place you know so well.”

These are passages in a notebook I have kept with me for years. I write down thoughts, emotions, struggles and conclusions I’ve had over the years. It’s a timeline of everything that has been going on for the past few years, but it is also anonymous: I don’t mention people or specific events. It’s applicable to a lot of people and a lot of situations. Which is exactly why I think some passages must be shared. 

“Sometimes I forget that unsaid sentences do not mean unfelt emotions”

I like scrolling through the pages of the notebook. It takes me back to years of commotion in my family, and how that is slowly but steadily settling down. To how I (almost) completely broke down when I was just 16. To always having the feeling I am better of doing things alone. How I have the tendency to always give people more than they give back to me. The panic attacks and anxiety I can’t quite seem to get rid of. But also: everyone I (have) love(d). 

“You must learn the language of your own brokenness before they can become fluent in their own healing.” 

“Hij heeft iets demonstratief mannelijks maar ook de vrolijkste lach ooit, inclusief kuiltjes in zijn wangen. Contrasten in gezichten zijn zo mooi.”

So for future reference: if you see me with a turquoise notebook, please don’t disturb me. The book is really important for me and therefore often safely hidden though. To me, the book is quite the journey to read, but I also have quite the amount of pages left to cover.

Love,

The small white apple is staring at me. I hope my golden asus logo is staring back at the girl in front of me in the train. While our laptops are fighting a silent battle on which is better (because let’s face it, a macbook is ultimately the coolest but my laptop is gold so take that), we are both absorbed in our own little technology-bubble: laptops on our laps, phone within reach, earphones in blasting some corny top-40 song. No differences between us whats however. We even study in the same city, which I just heard her say to her friend on the other side of the phonecall, spoken through the small bar attached to the wire of her earphones.

The woman seated on the other side of the aisle seems to be my mum’s age. She’s reading a book I have never heard the title of. There’s no laptop, no phone, no earphones. When a man who I guessed around 50 steps into the carriage I start timing until he reaches for his phone. 25 minutes and a dying phonebattery later I give up on my little experiment. And while this 1 person is obviously no ground to draw conclusions from, it becomes really clear how different we experience technology. Nevermind, it’s nothing we didn’t know already.

Love,