Was in time. Been so much better. I was thrown back into a past life for just a brief 11 months, to be exact. I laughed too hard and hit my head on a cold stone, the ones you find by the river. I knew exactly what I wanted before the stone hit me hard enough to make me forget what it was that I’d been so curious to understand. Now I’m sitting on a ready-made bed listening to the ghosts of my life.

We rijden op een eenwieler Hoe verder ik terug ga Accepteer dit bestaan Onder dezelfde sterren Is het nu echt voorbij, Of is het een omdraai? Ja, ja is goed Oke, ik zal er zijn Ik kom eraan I pretend to be fine until I sit alone in front of an empty block of concrete. There are so many rooms with unfulfilled thoughts, lost lives, and regret. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7... More and more sticks and stones, dusty offices, and blank smiles waiting for the grand piano to fall on their heads. I smile as a woman walks past with her dog. She notices my shoes and looks away. I'm wearing sandals in the coldest months. I wear them to stay awake; the cold keeps me standing upright. Another reason could be to punish myself. A train washes over my head and reminds me to move. I start packing boxes for the 100th time. This glass will break, another drawing will rip, and a new dent in my couch will appear. Sitting at the edge of the couch hoping for an interruption. Praying for the salt angel. The one I used to see when I was running around my grandmother's garden playing hide and seek. I found its feather on the dining room table and lost it. I seek to find it. Je mag best vertellen wat je dwars zit (accepteer dit bestaan) De straatverlichting springt aan Ik duik weer de nacht in Het hangt aan een zijde draadje We kunnen niet klagen Vang me als ik val, Trap niet in de val In deze tijd voelt het namelijk anders Verder weg, maar toch dichtbij In een handomdraai M’n inkt is op M’n inkt is op Verdwaald in het licht van de straat Ik heb nog veel te leren I think about my dead grandmother's eyes. She could only see in blurs and colours; there were no lines. All the wrinkles were gone, the age disappeared. Textures and details were memories, but the light was still there. She could listen and remembered well. She always knew who I was even though I looked like the girl who could be mistaken for me. "You don’t sound the same," she said. Realising I have my own laugh. Now, I am afraid to laugh because I fear a bee will fly into my mouth. Swallowing my breath just to find out that I'm not the person you thought I was. What should I delete next? Crossing the street with a vague sense of purpose, picking up a brown envelope, turning left, going straight, shaking my head trying not to panic. I felt a ghost pat me on the back. A second train washes over my head reminding me to leave. There are holes in the walls, sweet wrappers, and empty beer bottles, a rotting mop, and a lost sock where my bed used to be. Nothing to grasp, can’t sit still. I only sit still when my fingers move. I was 12 when jamming one of them in the car door while fighting with my mother. I wanted liquorice and she said no. I hated it when she said no because I felt like life was hard enough. Now I say no. Just tired. Tired of promising, I’ll probably break it in the end. My hand was growing red covered with bits of tissue from my mother's car. She was full of tears and sorry’s, flying down the broken streets beating all the red lights just to get to the steel room where they’d glue back my finger to what it was 20 minutes earlier. I felt nothing other than the urge to eat liquorice. Almost lost a finger for the stuff, might as well love it. I closed the door behind me for the 100th time waiting for the train to take me to my new home just to start all over again. In the end, you won’t hear from me, see me, or recognise me. Just know that I undoubtedly accepted every pinching moment we had together.

Almost like How you would imagine your mind Your thoughts What your thoughts would be Um, I’m going to just Very important You need to listen to me I’m in a green castle With lots of doors And lots of wood Almost a little bit like a tree And we’re running around tapping our shoes on all the walls Wait, wake up And then we go downstairs No, I never say anything important I never say anything important I am going to scream Kind of Um just want to get angry like I’m pinching myself When I get angry But but but, I’m not angry today Because, um I’m in this green castle with lots of doors And we’ve opened not every single one yet but we will Every so often we will open another door into something else For the rest of our lives