Tag Archives: sadness

Pills or candles

Today I lit a candle
It made the headache go away
Or was that the Ibuprofen?
I don’t know, what can I say?

I sat and watched and for a second
My inner self danced with the flame
A little peace, a little quiet
A little art outside the frame.

My inner self and all its stories
They like to go outside and play
If I’m to write ’bout pills or candles
I’ll choose the second any day


Winy, self-absorbed bitch

I’m well aware that one of the most negative sides of my personality is that I can be quite the winy, self-absorbed bitch sometimes.
The good thing is that usually, at the end of all the drama, I come away with the positive side of the story and cultivate a deep gratitude for it.


Last weekend I got pretty hurt over criticism opinions my friends gave me – and Lord knows I don’t take criticism well (whether just or not). So for a couple of days I’ve been crying to myself about how nobody understands and values me and how I’ll always be lonely – as if loneliness is the purest state of who I am – an identity – a mission.
Obvious bullshit. Continue reading Winy, self-absorbed bitch

Downtown (een lied heeft muziek)

Yesterday I gave in: I went to bed at 8pm. I know it’s not a good sign, but I was tired of keeping up appearances. I slept for a solid 13 hours – it seemed to be the only way to stop the thoughts. To silence the endless clutter of anger and sadness and words of desperation that runs through my head like people fleeing from an explosion: confused, hurried, screaming and heading in different directions. Non stop. Craving safety among the madness.
There were no nightmares. When I woke up this morning it seemed that a little energy had returned. I decided to use it and run.

Continue reading Downtown (een lied heeft muziek)

Where’s North from here?

I wanted to share this documentary with you because when I first saw it 5 years ago, it matched completely with how I was feeling.

Actually, I felt even worse. At least the people in the video were successful and working on their dreams. What was I doing? I hadn’t even started to dare what I dreamed of.

I realised that, if I wasn’t going to listen to my heart and start focussing on what I considered important myself, I’d get horribly depressed. Yet at the same time I fell pray to a ton of insecurities; a scorching need for attention and perfection. Frankly, I imagined myself ending up like the people in the video. And I panicked.

I decided something needed to change.

I think this is an incredibly important documentary.
Click this link for the full version in Dutch. There used to be a full subtitled version out there online, but I fail to find it.
This is directed by Sarah Mathilde Domogala.

Continue reading Where’s North from here?

No longer distant

The apocalypse is approaching. No longer distant, it’s creeping towards us. Our world is collapsing and burning while the towers of civilization are crumbling down around us.

Can I question if this is a sight of all times? Did our ancestors see the same tragedy unfolding, or feel this same earth quacking underneath their feet? Is this the same fire we’ve been fighting for a thousand years, now burning a different society and resisting different weapons? Or is this far beyond any regression ever known to man?

In our present times it seems as though we can only be happy when we refuse to see the madness around us: when we focus solely on the beautiful bits of nature that remain, eat our luscious strawberries without thinking of the hunger, sleep with our loved ones ignorant of the wars being fought elsewhere. Taking a step back out of our own little bubble is devastating. And so we protect this cocoon and hang on the illusion, for dear life. Is it a mind closed by apathy or freed by imagination? Is it the creation of a new reality, or the living of a lie? Does it even matter how we define it?

The apocalypse is approaching. Soon its roaring will be too laud to be blocked out of our comfortable shelters. When the curtain falls and we ultimately crash to the earth in agony, death will be death. Whether perceived from an illusion or a shocking reality, it will rain down splashed bubbles as we perish on a soil that’s bare. A shocking cut to black, a hollow gasp for fleeing air. No hells, nor heavens.