Even as a child, she was always fascinated by earth. With us, it's damp, heavy and black - while in the south it's brown and dry, tough to dig with a spade; white apples with leaves on the ground, worms all tangled up in the roots of the apple trees
Her hands take the seed and drop it into a dark-golden flower pot. She sprinkles some earth on top. It happens so suddenly that the seed is startles and thrown off course:
I'm not ready for this / you'll never be ready for this / I don't know this soil / you'll get to know it as you grow / are you sure it's time to sow? / I don't Know / you never know anything / I don't want to talk to you
She is silent. And the seed stays silent too. It feels damp - she starts to cry. She swells. There is something new, like a new sensation, like something inside... has changed. She has started to grow, she simply doesn't know it yet.
Oh god. Oh god. It's really over isn't it? Where did the time go. I can't bear the idea of going back yet I can't stand satying here any longer. Markplaats is overwhelming me as someone who typically exchanges 0 texts a day. I'm starving / I'm starving / I'm starving / Sun is rising. I can't stay here and I can't go back / when I'm brave the universe rewards me / I've seen it / Life is as fulfilling as I make it to be / But I've run out of will. I don't even have the strength to self sabotage anymore.
Even as a child, she was always fascinated by earth. With us, it's damp, heavy and black - while in the south it's brown and dry, tough to dig with a spade; white apples with leaves on the ground, worms all tangled up in the roots of the apple trees
We become strangers again. We are now strangers standing in a room a tree that is not quite the same on the other side. Running again. We are running again together, the last time our steps will be 1 second off sync.
Hope is a chore, you do it to survive. But that's will to live isn't it? I wash my dishes because I have a will to live, I wash them because I know I will use them later
DON'T LOOK AT ME!
I find myself checking the doorway when it's getting late
I think I like that you come by
Then I was crying
I was thinking about you today...
Elvis looks happy to see you but a little sad too
He embraces you. You kiss the side of his face
Another day, he says. Another day
You held me tight to your chest and reaped the benefits / Opening up to you, wires spilling out. I don't know how to end my sentences / But I mapped it out for you anyway. A wet thunk hits the floor, it splashes a little on your leg. / I knew you could do it.
TELL ME THE COMPANY YOU KEEP AND I WILL TELL YOU WHO YOU ARE
I don't know where to go, but I guess I'll try anyway
I wish I could tell you how much our time means to me without revealing lonely I've been
Help me! I need you to help me please. Help me and we'll walk to my house.
I want to share everything with you by saying nothing.
Who are you anyway? You can't torture away the poise and effort it takes to seem this out of control.
Not anymore.
I used to think we were on the same joke - "wouldn't it be funny if I were that?"
But I am this.
And it's not your fault you don't know what you're supposed to laugh at.
But you're not laughing at the joke, you're laughing at me.
We're both victims of the bad joke I'm responsible for
But I probably benefit more.