notes from november

November – you give me the courage to think this year is worth something. That feeling better is not the same as before and it could still be a beautiful life. That it doesn’t end – it is evolving. 


if I shift my view outside for too long – my eyes begin to swell. the grey makes me want to go back to bed. my therapist said I’m heavily influenced by my surroundings- and she is right cause the southern sunsets live in the back of my mind. each orange hue, one for each time I don’t want to be here anymore. but they will run out – and I need to see them again. a magic shift.


about 2021: I graduated at the beginning of the year, got a job and continued with what had to be done. All whilst the world continued closed – no fun to be made. throughout the months, rarely anything changed – even when summer came around all I felt was the presence of my fears. how I had convinced myself I was afraid, that I wasn’t in control, that everything that scared me was real, and I wasn’t able to let any of it go. anxiety made it impossible to feel comfortable at all. – I had to let go, I had to leave.

I arrived in Portugal, stood on my balcony and overlooked the sunlit southern city, and learned how to breathe again. All the steps I would take, were on my account. I learned to listen, to accept, to be brave and to live a joyful life again. I learned not to fear – to shift my focus into the brightness.

this year has taught me that I can do anything, as long as I find the courage to be fearless.


and some night I don’t want to home, I’d rather wander the streets than to have to warm the bed all by myself again. I can’t say I miss you, I miss everyone that made me feel. my hands are cold and I’m longing to be touched. I go crazy over the little things cause I have nothing, no soft words to send me to sleep. I try to sleep, dreaming of arms to roll back into, but I reach for something that is not mine. I don’t want it to be mine and still I love to play with his hair.

some night I don’t want to go home, the void captures me whole, and I wonder what I need to not feel alone.

a thursday in december

the sheets with the red stichting I bought last year. my key fits in the bike lock. the route to the trainstation is about 13 minutes. golden sunrays. the street I used to live. my mom cooking for me. a grey wintercoat in the hallway. small talk with colleagues. an alarm at 07:30. getting on with it. doing what I used to do. but not feeling it. not feeling like it used to.