and you sent me a tulip not when i needed it most but when you knew i was ready

now that i am getting better and better at unapolegetically unconditionally loving myself

i can see the threshold i feel it in my heart in my bones in my whole being

and i am grieving but also looking forward for the time of my life where i don't need to be reminded constantly anymore that it is okay to choose myself

i will miss you but i will never forget you and all that you have done for me you will always be with me with every beat of my heart each a declaration of love for myself

#poetry #whattheflowersknow

what i want and what i carry

one: what i want

i want to be wanted chosen in every moment not just for who i am but for how i make them feel alive

i want someone to look at me while i am just quietly existing like they are about to eat me

i want my presence to be craved my energy, my laughter, my quirks

i want my face to be touched like it's sacred and someone saying “mine” because they treasure me so much they never want to let go again

i want to feel like i am not asking for anything you didn't want to give anyway

//

one point five: [breath catches] the longing, the ache does it make me weak u n g r a t e f u l or is it just my heart being brave being soft enough to hope to want

//

two: what i carry

loving someone deeply, truly, no regrets – and still carrying a quiet ache for something they can't quite give you it's such a tender and vulnerable place to be in

when your love is solid and beautiful and true - but there is this one current underneath that's lonely; it's not wrong to feel that way though definitely complicated.

it's not ungrateful or selfish, or betraying them in your heart; it's human. and the desire to be seen, touched, wanted in a way that feels right to you is not a flaw. it is your truth.

being the “more” one - the one who wants more, feels more, aches more - can be so overwhelming; it can make you feel like you have to shrink your desire to keep the peace

but your softness, your kinks, your need to feel wanted and claimed and adored is valid, not extra it's deserving it's you

there's space in a loving relationship to hold that difference to carry it together

but it might mean some really raw and vulnerable conversations it might mean compromise or creative solutions or maybe just being seen in your craving without shame

whichever it will be please know you are allowed to miss what you need even when you love what you have.

011 | no grave of mine

i'm visiting the grave of my “father's” parents; but my father is not my father, and even if i didn't know it back then, i never called them “grandma & grandpa”

we were never quite as close as i was with my other grandparents – the gods know my other grandpa plays in a whole different league than the wholre rest of the family, but still -

and there was always a creeping feeling of distance; like i don't truly belong, like we have nothing in common.

now, my “aunt” – who is not my aunt - asked me to look after the grave because i live closest and she doesn't trust her brother, my “father” and because she lives on another fucking continent while i live one village away

and i am standing at this grave staring feeling nothing

even the guilt about that has disappeared

it's like looking at a stranger's grave

it should still feel fresh, though? my “grandfather” passed away last year – or wait, was it the year before? it hasn't been that long, is all i know and it's not like we never had a good time together

but still i am standing here feeling nothing

back at the car i already forgot the year my “grandmother” died, again

but i finally feel something something else i feel free?

and a tiny bit of guilt for not feeling guilt for not feeling anything

this is hard to share because it paints me like a monster; but if finally being able to leave something painful and devastating behind makes me one, i shall embrace it.

(is this my villain arc?)

(no)

(no)

(this is the part where i wake up and choose myself)

#poetry #fortheghostsicarry #somestillbleed #whattheflowersknow

see, the way i'm setting this little space up, decorating it with chains of words, lighting with truth – that's nice and everything, but every once in a while you will get to see a different side; a less....gentle, less polished – although my words, especially the poems, usually are everything but that; i write what i feel and that's it. for any given moment.

but even if there might be this certain softness, this poetic quality to some of my writing – there's also a voice inside of me that doesn't sugarcoat anything, that won't use metaphors, that refuses to say things any differently than how they immediately feel to me.

this voice sometimes swears and shouts, it punches and kicks - and sometimes it's unreadable, might sound almost bland, unbothered.

but all that also belongs here.

and one of these voices wants to tell you the story behind the hashtag what the flowers know (#whattheflowersknow) –

i mentioned in my first post a few days ago that i love roleplaying.

one of my characters is leading a life that lots of others raise their brows at – because he made and makes choices they cannot understand; he is not harming anyone, but he is not catering to anyone's wishes, either.

(i'll leave it vague for various reasons, but i'll try to give you a general idea about him)

it started with him being younger, being on his own and looking for something very specific. People around him were being worried about him – they assumed he didn't know what he was signing up for. they assumed he would get himself into a situation he wouldn't like, but wouldn't be able to leave on his own.

(they were wrong)

what this character did, however, was exactly what he wanted. and even when others kept criticising, when they kept telling him what he did was wrong, he kept doing it – of course, with a very young character, you could assume that's just out of spite. but no. he knew he had found exactly what he had been looking for.

he tried to understand why people tend to believe only their view is the right view; he struggles with that to this day, actually.

anyway,

playing him has taught me so much about myself that i can confidently say: i wouldn't be at the point i am now without him.

what does all of this have to do with flowers, you might wonder -

he is named after one, and i have more characters that have plant-based names; and i tend to learn from most of my characters, usually just little things, small quirks i notice i give them that i have myself for example. so they all deserve to be mentioned – even if that one specific flower is the one i feel particularly grateful for.

#poetry

• should be self-explanatory, although i'm not always sure what i write should really be called “poetry”

#fragments

• short poems, (unfinished) thoughts

#fortheghostsicarry [for the ghosts i carry]

• often paired with #poetry
• posts about things relating to past selves/views/experiences

#somestillbleed [some still bleed]

• always paired with #fortheghostsicarry
• is meant to make you aware there might be mentions of potentially triggering subjects
  • these may include but are not limited to mental health, especially depression, anxiety and ( c)ptsd; unhappy childhood; gaslighting, emotional abuse, emotional neglect (ties in with the childhood); identity loss (will be tied to the specific issue of finding out your social father isn't your biological father rather late (i was almost 30));

#whattheflowersknow [what the flowers know]

• things i am learning as i am rediscovering myself
• often but not always rather positive, pushing forward, hopeful (but not in a toxic positivity-way (i hope))
• sometimes paired with #fortheghostsicarry
  • then often about past behaviors/beliefs, and how i am un-learning them

#thisferalheart [this feral heart]

• you will find sensual topics here
  • possibly explicit, tread with caution
• for this reason, if overly explicit, it will be posted at the beginning of an entry, not paired with any other hashtags (the only exception to this is the post titled “this feral heart”)

#againsttherush [against the rush]

• reflections on fast-paced (internet) culture
• resisting the feeling to constantly have to create, produce, perform; resisting “content creation”
• trying to reclaim slowness, breath and truth

there is this dangerous thing where instead of keeping your thing going you start feeling like you need to “create content”

i am struggling with it right now, feeling i need to constantly produce output feeling i can't stop posting because that's what we're used to

but this place is not supposed to be a constant stream of nothingness, a fast-lived corner of the internet, one of the thousands of thousands edges you reach, just to be swept into the next swirl of “content”

i want to share thoughts and feelings and breaths and sometimes that includes the silence in-between

#whattheflowersknow #againsttherush

i was on a coffee date with my wife and we talked about all kinds of things, and somehow, when she said “i'm trying to become a better person” i asked “why”, “i think everyone should aim to be a better person,” she responded, and oh, how i would have agreed with that not too long ago; however, today, before even thinking, i replied with a very firm “no.”

she was surprised, and so was i, but i added: “i think everyone should aim to live a happy life.” and i felt that. i felt that so deep in my heart.

because let's be honest - 'becoming a better person' can mean anything you assume others want; like, when people say it, they mean 'i want to become a person others find acceptable.'

but when you're trying to live a happy life, ideally, that won't harm anyone else and bring you joy; and it will automatically make you a good person; a good person for yourself.

#whattheflowersknow

did you know caterpillars basically dissolve to become a butterfly.

but a brimstone, a swallowtail, a map caterpillar - they already are a brimstone, a swallowtail, a map butterfly.

the goo inside the chrysalis is still a brimstone, a swallowtail, a map.

becoming is not pretty; it's cruel and painful and scary.

but during all this time, no matter the state, i am still me, becoming.

#poetry #fortheghostsicarry #whattheflowersknow