*a deep longing

Even though those pictures were taken in summer, that time feels like a lifetime away already.

Loosing my mother in this cruel way left deep scars on me. It was an ongoing torture for everybody who was allowed to witness or who dared to.

The ultimate comforter is everywhere, just not in your words. So I stopped searching them there. And so I feel like I haven't felt in a long time – like I felt as a teenager. Always searching for something to stuff this longing hole in me, I feel a strong addiction, but I don't know what for. I want out, out of this body, out of this pain, out of all the senseless conversations with people who are too afraid to go a little deeper, to meet me in the darkness, to open their eyes, because they are too afraid to see themselves in it.

So I seek comfort in the silence, in the little pauses between your words, in the rustling of the autumn leaves, in the flickering of the candle flame, in the icy morning, in the cry of the crow that has finally found its way back to me.

It's not just the loss, it's the horror I witnessed. The imprisonment. The unquenchable pain. And when I wake up in the nights it feels as if she is still lying there and I'll never be able to find peace again.

☙