Leise, sanft

Daughter – smother

Manchmal denke ich an Dich. Und dann tut es weh.
Nicht schmerzhaft, sondern leise, sanft.

Als öffne sich mein Herz und liesse all die Liebe herein;
und mit der Liebe käme dann auch eine gewisse Nostalgie,
eine Traurigkeit, aber auch Glück und Hoffnung.
Ein offenes Herz.

Und dann frage ich mich, ist Dein Herz auch
offen?
Oder ist es zu müde dazu, sich zu bewegen? Bist Du schon zu müde geworden?
Und dann frage ich mich, wieso,
weil ich die Antwort zu kennen glaube.
Das Herz zerreisst bei dem Gedanken.

Wieso all diese Zweifel.

Der Klang Deiner Stimme, der durch Wände dringt und in welchem
eine Vertrautheit mitschwingt, so alt, wie unsere Seelen,
der mich aufhorchen lässt, so plötzlich, ich kenne all seine Variationen.
Ich kenne die Zerbrechlichkeit, die Bestimmtheit, ich kenne das Zittern, bei Wut,
oder bei Verzweiflung, ich kenne das Leuchten, bei Glück.

Ich kenne sie besser als meine eigene, Deine Wärme, die mich zum schmelzen bringt und
dieses Gefühl der tiefen Geborgenheit in mir entfalten lässt, sodass ich fliege
und einschlafe.
Friedlich.
Ich komme mir immer ein paar Grad zu kalt vor, wenn ich sie nicht spüren kann.

Deine Augen, ich weiss genau wie sie tief in mich hineinschauen und mich sehen.
Die kleinen Fältchen an ihren Rändern, die erschienen, wenn Du mich zum Lachen bringst.
Dein Blick offenbart Deine Ängste, sodass ich sie schon lange kenne.
Ich versuche sie zu mindern, doch meistens lässt Du mich nicht.
Du machst sie zu, Deine Augen, wenn ich Dich dreist in Liebe anschaue, weil Du weisst, dass ich viel sehen kann und noch mehr sehen will.
Du lässt mich nicht.

Deine groben, starken Hände, welche sich am zartesten und sanftesten bewegen,
aber immer rastlos sind, wenn sie nichts festhalten können. Die kenne ich auch.
Sie berühren immer mit einer Bestimmtheit, von der ich manchmal nicht weiss,
woher sie kommt.
Manchmal habe ich Angst vor ihnen, nicht vor Dir.

Ich sehe Dich in meinem Zimmer auf und ab gehen, Dich kommen und gehen,
ich sehe, wie Du Dich aufbaust und ein paar Momente später zusammenbrichst,
wieder ganz klein wirst.
Ich sehe Deine Rastlosigkeit, Dein Frust, Dein Wille,
nichts von Beständigkeit. Nichts von langer Dauer.
Dann fühle ich mich machtlos. Stumm.
Meine Worte, wie die Flamme eines Zündholz, in einem Raum voller
Feuerwerkskörper.

Ich sehe wie Du da sitzt. Und wie ich da sitze. Wie ich Dich suche.
Du zwar meinen Blick, aber nicht mich spürst.
Dein Blick gesenkt auf Deine Hände, ein Spielzeug, Deine Ohren hören mich nicht richtig.
Und ich weiss nicht, wohin Du willst.
Ob das jetzt gut ist.
Jetzt in diesem Moment. Der Zustand befriedigt mich nicht, weil er in mir Fragen aufwirft.
Und ich denke, ich mache alles falsch.

Manchmal spüre ich sie ganz klar und deutlich,
Deine Liebe,
als könnte ich sie greifen, sie begreifen, sie festhalten,
sie ist ganz still.
Irgendwann nimmst Du sie mir aber wieder aus den Händen,
weil sie Dir gehört.
Und ich verstehe das, dennoch schaue ich ihr nach, wie dem Sonnenuntergang im Sommer,
etwas traurig, weil ich sie gerne immer bei mir hätte.

Und vielleicht bin ich doch nicht ein paar Grad zu kalt, wenn ich allein bin,
sondern ein paar Grad zu heiss.
Vielleicht aber auch ein Auf und Ab, ein Hin und Her
offen und zu.

An manchen Tagen, dann ist mein Herz anders, dann ist es aus Glas mit vielen Rissen
es glitzert und klimpert, ganz delikat,
und dann bin ich mir nicht sicher,
ob ich es in den Händen halte, oder Du.

Die Frage, die sich nun aufdrängt, ist,
wie wohl Deins aussieht.
Und ich denke mir, es sieht so aus, wie man es sich denkt,
aus Fleisch und Blut, eben. Lebendig. Aktiv.
Aber müde.

Und was heisst das jetzt, wenn meines doch so übervoll ist,
sich öffnet und schliesst. Gefühl. Aber es vielleicht nicht lebendig ist,
wie Deins. Es nicht aus Fleisch und Blut ist.
Macht das dann überhaupt einen Sinn?

Ich mache mir sorgen.
Ein Herz sollte nicht müde sein.

Meins fühlt sich nicht müde an, zwar manchmal kaputt, manchmal schmerzhaft,
manchmal schwer, manchmal leer …
Mache ich Dich müde? Bei wem muss ich den Fehler suchen?
Wo?

Und dann sehe ich mich, wie ich da sitze, wie eine schlechte Verliererin,
die die Lösung nicht findet.
Wohl blind, und vielleicht auch ein bisschen missverstanden.
Verletzlich.
Dieses Bild, ob es sich wohl ändert, irgendwann,
und Du ein Neues von mir zeichnest?

 

xx jana

Broken

Jarryd James – 1000x

Processed with VSCO with t1 preset

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you. 

– Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

Weird – to find myself at this same place again.
Still it’s not the same.

I’ve been wondering about
how much sadness one can take.
And how much disappointment.

The future I have wished for myself seems impossible to reach.
Instead I need to let you go. So you can grow.
You deserve to grow.
What do I deserve?
Do I care about what I deserve, when it comes to you?
I care about loss.
And I care about my dreams that have been shattered.
I care about loneliness.
And I care about
you.

Fairness, right?
Let the one you love become the person he deserves to be.
And maybe let him be this person with someone
else.
Free him of all his promises.
Free him of all the pressure you put on him.
Free him of you.
Let him go.
Because it’s
you.

Is it selfish to ask: ‘and what about me?’
What about the things I had and will have to go through?
What about the way I’ve been feeling?
Cause I feel left out. I am losing.
You don’t owe me anything.
And still
no one can safe me
but
you.

I know you feel like you’ve lost everything.
I have lost everything too.
Because I lost
you.

How long will this sadness last this time?
I have welcomed this deep brokenness like an old friend.
10 years from now, will I still shudder when I hear your name?
Will my heart still sigh in pain
because it remembers
you?

Dear darling
It has always been you.
You stole my heart.
I know it is safe with you.
Whatever might happen.
This is out of my hands.
Nevertheless
I will keep you forever in my mind
and I will miss you
every day
because
I love
you.

I hope you’ll find what you are searching for.

 

It’s all about the decisions we make.

xx jana

Two Hearts

I hold two hearts
which one belongs to me?
which one belongs to you?
I just want to give them away
give them to you
I don’t want to decide
I don’t want to be accountable
it’s too much to bear

Crashing down
falling forever
life is playing its games
where is my save place?
where is my happy place?
you are the only one who knows
you are the only one
who can bring me there
and you know
I want us to be present
I want to feel you close

But where have you gone?
miles apart
as if you were hiding
from me
just a shadow, just a shell
I am left with a ghost
please wake up, please wake up
save me
I don’t recognise this love
so even if you sleep next to me
I am missing you

You seem lost
I don’t want you to be lost
But you won’t take my hand
so what do I do?
I just watch
watch as we stand on these boats
floating away from each other
taken by different currents
not moving a feet
although my soul is aching
to follow you

 I am lost too
I am asking myself why
am I the mistake?
do I tear us apart?
I am scared of myself
and scared of you
my heart is so weak
ready to melt
Do I have to overcome my fear?
Or will you help me changing it into something else?

Too many tears
yours and mine
too many
we are sick of it
why is it so hard?

I love you
You love me

But this is not all
there is also you
there is also me
there is life
there is fear

and there is the best
and there is the worst.

xx jana

making apologies

The Chainsmokers – Roses (ft. Rozes)
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This is an issue which means a lot to me. It is something I recently discovered to be an issue everyone should be aware of – I discovered it to be a topic which changed my way of talking and communicating and dealing with myself and others. I am going to talk about something which can make you feel better.

This is a post about honesty. This is a post about making apologies.

I still remember an argument I had with my mother years and years ago, as if it was yesterday. I was very young at that time. Still a kid. And we were screaming at each other. It was a weekday evening and I went to bed angrily. It doesn’t matter anymore what the argument was about. But it matters that after a while when I was just about to fall asleep, my mother opened the door – and apologized for the quarrel. At that point it became very clear to me that I also had never wanted to argue. We ended up crying and apologizing – and we went to sleep with a much better feeling than before.

This experience has taught me that saying sorry is never something bad. It is something which demands sincerity, a little bit of bravery and greatness.

It took me years to understand this. I have always been a very stubborn person, sure to stand for my opinions and things I said. It ended up causing me too many arguments and a lot of anger and sadness. Today, with 21 years I have come to a point where I generally hate arguing. I don’t think its worth my time or my energy – all of this negativity. But I also know it is not avoidable.

My understanding for the meaning of apologizing came after very intense arguments with my boyfriend when we screamed at each others faces or ended up walking away from each other. So often, just a few hours after the argument I would feel sorry for it all, or for things I said.

I dunno where this came from. But I guess there was one point where I didn’t have any other choice than saying sorry. So I did. And it turned out to be the greatest thing ever.
Since then I started to be a lot more aware of things I could apologize for.
Even a few days after an argument, I could confront others with suddenly apologizing. I am not holding back on this anymore. I say that I didn’t want to argue, that I am sorry for this or that particular thing I said, or this or that particular thing I did. I have gotten better in doing so, that now, even if I am in the middle of a fight, I can take a step back, look at things and ask myself: “wait? Is that what I wanted? Is this argument worth it? Do I really want to go on like this?” And then I might say sorry just right in the middle of the argument. This doesn’t mean that I apologize for everything. I only say sorry for the things I know I actually feel or will feel sorry about. Sometimes it is everything, sometimes it is just a tiny little thing.

And I tell you. It is worth it. Never has someone I know reacted negatively on it. And for me, as a person who loves harmony and who can hold a grudge not only against others for ages, but also against myself, it made me feel so much better.
Even my boyfriend has been so appreciative of it, that just recently I found him doing the same thing. An argument between us and its aftermaths, which would have usually lasted for days, ended in a blink of an eye. It was so truly great.

Don’t be too proud to say sorry. It is never too late.
I have managed to build friendships again, which had been broken a long time ago.
Just by apologizing.

It is worth it in every way.
And I tell you this is not showing weakness or backing up or trying to get away with something.
It is about second chances and people’s temper, which can so easily get out of control.
It’s about knowing yourself and being reflective and about fixing relationships and not making things worse than they already are.
Try it out yourself.

xx jana

The thing about love

Stu Larsen – “Thirteen sad farewells” (Cover by Lilly Ahlberg)DSC01752

As you might have read on my blog post “Bali Backpacking” – I was on holiday in Indonesia.
(In that blog entry you can also find loads of pretty pictures, if the read is too long for you)

In Bali there were two encounters I want to tell you about, because they have really stayed with me.
We talked with two men about love and relationships and it made me feel so upset and also even a bit sad to hear their stories.
Apart from that they also made me think about our culture and my personal past.
Let me share their stories with you:

As we watched the sunset at the Beach in Amed we met a local man. He, an owner of a little hostel, asked us – obviously after we’d already talked for some minutes – if it was normal that people from Europe have several partners. He said this because he met several men and also women who went with secret lovers to Bali, telling him they were actually married. I thought it was quite shocking what picture he had from our culture and it was even more shocking to realise that it was impossible for me to convince him that his idea of European relationships was wrong. However he told us, that traditionally in Bali the family decides who marries whom. The girl then has to move into the house oft he spouses family and is bound to make religious offerings every day and to look after the family. He seemed quite regrettable about the fact that he didn’t get the chance to choose his wife. He said, his wife is more like a friend to him, than anything else.

The second balinese guy who told us about love was our driver (about 34 years old). He fell in love with a Japanese tourist who he met during her stay in Bali. She got ill and he looked after her. This is how feelings developed and how he fell in love with her. They had a thing going on during her stay and she even came back once again. But then she vanished in Japan and he would hear later on that she’d eventually got married. Nevertheless his biggest wish is to go to Japan to meet her again, regardless of her being with someone else. He said he doesn’t feel complete without her, and just simply put: sad.

The Balinese people really seemed very gentle to me and I came to realise that love to them is much more valuable than it is to us. In our culture, love is a given, we can love several people, change partners, change our minds – we are a lot more free to act out our love and to explore every side of it. They however dream of a romantic ideal of love, because they don’t get to choose.
Although they still connect the idea of love with happiness, a happiness not all of them will ever experience.

What really made me think was the fact that our driver had fallen in love years ago, and how it still deeply affects him today.

I don’t want to be sad over someone all my life.
That’s why we have to fight for what we love.
Because we can.

jana xx

Sweet Autumn Memory

Fink – “Looking Too Closely
Jakwob – “Stay

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This is one of my most simple but still most beloved memories of the time I shared
with him.

I let it go.

I was about to get home. At 7 o’clock on a Sunday morning. I just finished a 10 hours night-shift at the pub.
Every single time when I was close to where I wanted so desperately to get, I’d turn around the corner, checking if I saw light spreading out into the dark night from inside the apartment on the very top of the building. Shortly before I reached that point where I could see the light, I sometimes felt like running, speeding up. It didn’t matter that I felt incredibly exhausted and worn out.

This was never the time for me to feel tired.
Usually it came over me sometime later on Sunday afternoon, or on Monday and then it would’ve stayed for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday… But coming home to him was what I waited for all week. It was my motivation. My sweet treat after six days of missing him, hard work, and …did I mention it? Missing him.
I have never been a very patient person and I will never be. So for those days without him, nothing mattered, I just wanted to get through the week, to turn around that corner
and to see light.

That night I did.

A mix between utter happiness (“he’s waiting for me to come home!”) and bliss (“god, I am so lucky”) and thankfulness (“he did it for me”) but also worry (“he really should be asleep. No one gets up at this time on Sunday mornings”) would run through my veins. To him, it was always one of his favorite things, if I waited for him to come home after work.
Yes, to me, it was the exact same thing.
He always told me, he woke up himself knowing I would come soon. I’m not sure he set an alarm clock. But no matter what it was that woke him up – I am so thankful now, for every single time.

On that very day, I hurried up the stairs. I opened the door. If my heart could’ve talked, it would’ve taken a deep breath and it would’ve sighed “finally”. He walked towards me, held me, whispered a soft “hello” as I let the contentment and simplicity of this moment wash over me.
I was sticky and smelly, from all the sweat and liquor on my skin – he didn’t care. He never did. Our tired looks on our faces would mirror in each others eyes.
But all I could feel at that moment was the pure feeling of infinite devotion.

I remember my urge to make the best out of our short time we would have together. We always had only the weekends. Although the nights of those weekends, I was working. Then I would sleep till noon. So actually we had half of the weekends. I wanted so much to just stay awake, not waisting any time. I didn’t need sleep as long as I had him. And he looked at me sweet and worried, shaking his head.

I went to put my bag in his bedroom and I laid down for a sneaky short minute, still convinced, that I didn’t want and didn’t need the sleep. I relaxed on my side completely across the whole bed, diagonally, as I felt him laying down behind me. He said: “You need the sleep.” And he put his arm around me, pulled me close. Some of his weight was on top of me. It was completely innocent, but perfect. He closed every single gap between us, his head on mine, his arm around me, I heard his breath, his heartbeat and although I really didn’t intend to sleep
i fell into the world of dreams immediately.

I cannot remember a single time, when I have ever slept just as well. I was literally muffled in his love and his warmth. Oh, I loved his warmth.
I felt cold too often, I feel cold too often now.

I had no dreams, I could just let myself fall. I knew I was at the most secure place I could’ve ever been.
And I knew I could wake up, and he’d still be around.
It was nice to know someone looked after me, giving me a break from making all the decisions.
At that moment he gave me the feeling, that I didn’t needed to be stressed, or scared, or worried.

Nothing in the world mattered.
Just him, by my side, close – physically and emotionally.
It was nice to know, he cared.
And that he had woken up just to hold me till I’d fallen asleep.

xx jana

Gone

The xx – “Angels

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Picture: Printscreen Vlog The Michalaks (check them out!)

I never knew that I could feel constantly sad for so long…
it has already been 3 months – a quarter of a year. Still – no day has gone by without a thought about my lost love, my lost chances.

I’m sorry I let you wait for so long for a new blog post. But I honestly couldn’t bring myself to write one – until now.

I went to see him again. It was a mistake. There was the old connection between us, the brushed arms when we walked past each other, the closeness I yearned for, the stupid jokes about the same old things, his touch.

I collapsed after I left. A few days later I demanded to get answers.
Answers to questions I couldn’t even ask without wondering if I could handle to hear what he would say to them.

He told me –  I should let him go.
That I should live my life.
That the timing wasn’t right.
That he would come back once he thinks, he can be the person I deserve.
That he knows it could be too late then.
He told me, I was important to him.
That he had the most wonderful time ever with me.

You know, I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I am not the kind of person who believes much in timing.
I am convinced that ultimately you have to fight and work for what you want to keep in your life.
It’s about what you do. You cannot always look for excuses and you cannot make life itself to one of them.

Nevertheless – I felt defeated.

I tried to accept it, I tried and am still trying because I love him and because I have no other choice.
I cannot force him to love me.
I cannot make him want me.
It all becomes less painful after a while – you become numb, resigned.

I deleted the pictures, stopped myself from thinking about the time we shared, his eyes, his touch or the future I always hoped we would have together.
It’s all gone and it’s all out of my hands.
Nothing I could ever imagine myself doing, is ever going to change anything, or make it work again.
It needs two to love.

Sometimes I even wonder, if what we had was ever true. Now that it is all deleted it becomes so surreal.
Has it ever been there? Has it ever existed? Have we existed?

I am concentrating on myself now. That’s my biggest advice. Focus on yourself, change things, live. Even though you will go through tough days… don’t call him, don’t text him. Delete the number.

I am waiting for the time, when he’s ready to talk to me again – when he misses me so much, that he reaches out to me and not the other way around. He could be missing me then as a friend, or as a human being or as the one who once loved him. Maybe until then, I am different. Maybe then i can stand in front of him without tears in my eyes – strong.

If he’s moving on, I have to do the same thing. I cannot be left behind.

He says he knows it could be too late. This is what I don’t understand. I don’t understand why he promises me to come back one day, although he has never kept a promise he’s ever made. And why would you let someone go, if you knew it could be too late? I would never push anyone out of my life, if I would intend to let this person back in sometime, knowing it could never happen… because it could be too late. No one would do that, that’s too much of a risk. You keep the ones you love as close to you as you can and never let them go. Right?

I would have never let him go. But he asks for it. He turns around and walks away from me. Leaving me all alone. If I ever want to feel happy again, I have to do what I hate most, what I’ve always been to scared to even think about.

And to be fair, slowly frustration and some sort of anger starts to build inside of me.
It helps me to leave him alone
but I don’t like it, because it isn’t me.
I’m kind.
But I hate not being able to do anything about it. That fighting doesn’t help. That I have to accept the defeat.
I would’ve fought for him forever, if I only saw a glimpse of a chance.

Now I dunno what to tell you anymore. I am literally planning my life. Soon I start Uni, I wanna move out, work more…
A fresh start.

Before I end this post I’d like to share with you something which has made me think.

I heard following poem recently. It’s called If by Ruyard Kipling – read out by Hanna Maggs and her husband on their Vlog-channel The Michalaks:

 

I know this has nothing to do with romantic relationships whatsoever.
Some sentences still stayed with me and I really cannot let them go:

“If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;”

I wondered, if I could ever forgive him what he did to me. If I could ever trust him again.
If I could even let him come back into my life.
I don’t know the answers yet. For the moment I let him figure out, when the time for us is right
– whatever us we are.
I give him the time he needs.
It would be incredibly sad, if this was it.
If this was the end. No contact. Out of each others lives.
Gone.
But on the other hand I am not too sure a broken heart can ever heal, or forget.
xx jana

Zurich Lifestyle

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It was such a pretty spring day, that we had to go out!
I am not a Zurich-Girl and I used to be quite…well let’s say judgemental about the city because it’s supposed to not only be a very expensive and posh place – but also stressed and overrated. However, after I started working there at a bar and returning to the city every single weekend, I have fallen a slight bit in love with this city. Obviously also because I found my first true love there. And I’m not saying “first true love”, I am saying first.true.love. I basically have been in this town every weekend for almost two years. Still, I don’t know shit about it – but I like it anyway.

What you can see in the picture above is on the top right Lake Zurich and Zurich main station in the middle. We went to the park on the left and had a drink in a bar called “clouds” in the highest building of the city – the Prime Tower.

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I don’t remember what drink I had – it was something with peach and strawberry puree and Prosecco. Very summery and nice. What he had was a yummy hot Bloody Marry. From the bar you have a great view over Zurich.
It’s quite fancy up there – and definitely worth a visit.

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Then we went to the “Letten” – which is at the river Limmat. Very relaxing area with lots of young people and just gorgeous at sunset. I drank white whine mixed with sprite. This might sound disgusting to you but it’s one of my favorite drinks. In Switzerland and Germany you ask for a “Gespritzt Süss”.

I think to walk along the Limmat is great when you need time to think, or to jog. Oh yes, and I wore my black, dirty booties from Max Shoes.

Make sure you visit those places if you make it to Switzerland. 😉

jana x