Every laugh
Every tear
All these moments
Every hug
Every story
All these moments
One more joke
One more goodbye
All these moments
Bring us closer
to the last one.
vrijdag 5 september 2014
donderdag 4 september 2014
I'm not back - just visiting
I just wish I could have known you
Like I know my dearest friends
No wait, maybe I just hoped,
it would never end
That one night,
was a night like in my dreams
At least when we were together,
when we had just met
Not when our ways parted,
that is the part that I regret.
The promise of seeing you once more
Was one that did not stand
It just seems like bad luck
got the upper hand
Never judge a book by its cover
You taught me that
Yet I only wanted your embrace
to hold me close instead
To tuck me in, calm my mind, and simply hold
me tight
Yet here I am
alone,
tonight.
I don’t even care
If you
ruined my fantasy
When you would not have been
The man I thought you’d be
At least then I would have known
You and all your flaws
At least then I could stop wondering:
“what if he was …”
dinsdag 21 januari 2014
No follow through
People are often complaining about the classical male mistake of having no follow through after a date.
(Jude Law - in my all time favorite movie The Holiday even admits it!)
What if having no follow through is the best thing that can happen? This will not be a pleading for one-night-stands or ignoring people. Rather, what I want to say is that a follow through sometimes can ruin the perfect memories of that moment the two of you shared. That moment can be a conversation, a kiss, or an entire night, that does not matter for my claim here.
Endless conversations with people who are practically strangers can be a relief and a blessing: speaking to someone who does not judge you, who has no other intentions than to have a good conversation. Same with kisses: a spur in the moment thing after a night of dancing can be just what you need. A hug and a piece of advice from that cousin-of-your-best-friend-you-just-met can be all you needed. The follow through however, could ruin it all.
Yes, all of it.
The mind has the mind-blowing (see what I did there?) capability to remember things far more romantic and perfect than they actually were.
That guy you met on that party? You brain makes you see him as the guy you could have spent the rest of your life with and get married and have kids etc.
I've been there, my mind has done that to me.
A couple of days after that special conversation or piece of advice, the guy contacts you and you get overwhelmingly happy, only to realize after a while that he is far less interesting/cute/intelligent/funny/handsome than you(r mind) thought... The entire memory then is destroyed. Smashed into a thousand pieces like it was all just a lie.
My piece of advice? Enjoy the moments you had with someone, and protect that memory. Romanticize and idealize it in your head, but do not go desperate over a follow through, and trust me: sometimes it is better that way.
(Jude Law - in my all time favorite movie The Holiday even admits it!)
What if having no follow through is the best thing that can happen? This will not be a pleading for one-night-stands or ignoring people. Rather, what I want to say is that a follow through sometimes can ruin the perfect memories of that moment the two of you shared. That moment can be a conversation, a kiss, or an entire night, that does not matter for my claim here.
Endless conversations with people who are practically strangers can be a relief and a blessing: speaking to someone who does not judge you, who has no other intentions than to have a good conversation. Same with kisses: a spur in the moment thing after a night of dancing can be just what you need. A hug and a piece of advice from that cousin-of-your-best-friend-you-just-met can be all you needed. The follow through however, could ruin it all.
Yes, all of it.
The mind has the mind-blowing (see what I did there?) capability to remember things far more romantic and perfect than they actually were.
That guy you met on that party? You brain makes you see him as the guy you could have spent the rest of your life with and get married and have kids etc.
I've been there, my mind has done that to me.
A couple of days after that special conversation or piece of advice, the guy contacts you and you get overwhelmingly happy, only to realize after a while that he is far less interesting/cute/intelligent/funny/handsome than you(r mind) thought... The entire memory then is destroyed. Smashed into a thousand pieces like it was all just a lie.
My piece of advice? Enjoy the moments you had with someone, and protect that memory. Romanticize and idealize it in your head, but do not go desperate over a follow through, and trust me: sometimes it is better that way.
donderdag 16 januari 2014
Eyes that can talk
What do people see when they look directly into my eyes?
Supposedly, the eyes are the mirror of the soul; the eyes speak a truth that the mouth cannot put into words. When I am talking, rambling or whispering to someone, do my eyes tell the same story as I do?
You stared directly into my eyes, my soul and so much more. We talked about irrelevant things. How pretty the stars were. How cold the wind was. How sad it was that you had to leave already.
Did my eyes tell you that I wanted you to stay? Did they tell you that even though the stars were beautiful, all I could look at was you? And that the wind or how cold it was did not matter as long as I was outside, away from the crow, with you?
I hope they did. But I was not able to look into yours. Your dark eyes seemed shut though they were wide open. You were looking at me, but I was not able to look at you in that way. I was in awe of your presence, your warmth and your funny irrelevant remarks. Even if your eyes had answered that Yes, you wanted to stay, to talk and to listen, I would not have been able to read that. I only listened to the words, not to the glances, blinks and stares. Not yet.
And then you went.
Off into the starry, windy night.
Farther away from the crowd inside,
but even farther away from me.
Supposedly, the eyes are the mirror of the soul; the eyes speak a truth that the mouth cannot put into words. When I am talking, rambling or whispering to someone, do my eyes tell the same story as I do?
You stared directly into my eyes, my soul and so much more. We talked about irrelevant things. How pretty the stars were. How cold the wind was. How sad it was that you had to leave already.
Did my eyes tell you that I wanted you to stay? Did they tell you that even though the stars were beautiful, all I could look at was you? And that the wind or how cold it was did not matter as long as I was outside, away from the crow, with you?
I hope they did. But I was not able to look into yours. Your dark eyes seemed shut though they were wide open. You were looking at me, but I was not able to look at you in that way. I was in awe of your presence, your warmth and your funny irrelevant remarks. Even if your eyes had answered that Yes, you wanted to stay, to talk and to listen, I would not have been able to read that. I only listened to the words, not to the glances, blinks and stares. Not yet.
And then you went.
Off into the starry, windy night.
Farther away from the crowd inside,
but even farther away from me.
donderdag 31 oktober 2013
People we meet
It is funny how every single person you meet, does something with you, has in influence on you in one way or another. They shape you in how you behave in your next encounters or how you deal with your past or future problems. Still, it goes widely unnoticed. We draw upon previous experiences before we enter new ones, making every single one of those moments unique. People you meet can be interesting, funny, weird, disarming or just so, so very special in a way you cannot even begin putting it into words or writing. Unconsciously, people can give you a piece of advice that lasts a life time, or they can make you – even if only for a short period of time – feel worthy of their attention, which honestly is one of the greatest feelings in the world.
zondag 20 oktober 2013
A roundabout of disillusions
I just do not get it.
How can one’s thoughts and feelings be so far apart from one another? While my mind is running off to a fairytale, right in the arms of my prince charming, my heart is drifting off into an entirely different direction – a far less positive one.
Will I be able to force my heart in a certain pre-scripted plot, or should I let it make a detour and just wait until it gets back on the right track, whichever one that might be?
A good friend warned me for this long before. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. I was highly convinced that I should know what he, my prince charming, wanted from me, had in mind for us and hoped we would become, before I made up my own mind about those things. Well, turns out I was wrong, my friend was right. I should have thought it through and sorted it out before I told him I had any doubts in the first place. As a result, it now feels like I am not following any path at all: neither my mind’s, nor my heart’s. Instead, I am stuck on a roundabout of disillusions, hope, fear and a highway jammed with uncertainty. I am lost. The true problem here is that no one has a map to guide me through this: I am all by myself on this one.
How can one’s thoughts and feelings be so far apart from one another? While my mind is running off to a fairytale, right in the arms of my prince charming, my heart is drifting off into an entirely different direction – a far less positive one.
Will I be able to force my heart in a certain pre-scripted plot, or should I let it make a detour and just wait until it gets back on the right track, whichever one that might be?
A good friend warned me for this long before. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. I was highly convinced that I should know what he, my prince charming, wanted from me, had in mind for us and hoped we would become, before I made up my own mind about those things. Well, turns out I was wrong, my friend was right. I should have thought it through and sorted it out before I told him I had any doubts in the first place. As a result, it now feels like I am not following any path at all: neither my mind’s, nor my heart’s. Instead, I am stuck on a roundabout of disillusions, hope, fear and a highway jammed with uncertainty. I am lost. The true problem here is that no one has a map to guide me through this: I am all by myself on this one.
donderdag 15 augustus 2013
Dusty photographs
I do not want these memories to fade... I do not want them to be replaced by other ones, or stay forgotten in the back of my mind, like old, dusty photographs in an attic.
Photographs are just captured details: fragments of an experience, and stories really are just ink on paper sheet. Memories, however, have the ability to take us back in time and let us relive moments of the past. The mind tricks us into being there again, smelling, seeing and feeling the same things as in that very moment. The past few weeks I have created memories I want to remember and relive over and over again, even the boring, sad or painfull ones, because overall, I have learned so much from these weeks, in every possible sense of the word. I have learned about a city, a language and a culture. I have also learned a lot about other people, but most of all: I have learned about myself.
Mixed feelings about leaving this place behind are overwhelming me. Even though going back home is not something I want, I will keep moving forward, although in life it really is only possible to move forward. But every now and then, I will let my memories take over and take me back to those times. Those good old times.
Photographs are just captured details: fragments of an experience, and stories really are just ink on paper sheet. Memories, however, have the ability to take us back in time and let us relive moments of the past. The mind tricks us into being there again, smelling, seeing and feeling the same things as in that very moment. The past few weeks I have created memories I want to remember and relive over and over again, even the boring, sad or painfull ones, because overall, I have learned so much from these weeks, in every possible sense of the word. I have learned about a city, a language and a culture. I have also learned a lot about other people, but most of all: I have learned about myself.
Mixed feelings about leaving this place behind are overwhelming me. Even though going back home is not something I want, I will keep moving forward, although in life it really is only possible to move forward. But every now and then, I will let my memories take over and take me back to those times. Those good old times.
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