If only we would still be with each other

I come home from work and run to my mother. When only two words flood out of my mouth the first warmth of tears begin to gather beneath my tired eyes. It won't take long for them to find an escape.

My energy has been low these last few weeks. They seem to be phases, sneaking up on me once in a while. Things have been happening all at once, as things seem to do often in our lives, and the happening of today was the final drop that lead to a tsunami in my head.
I work partly in a kitchen in a children daycare centre and was promised to become the care taker of the babies as a replacer. Today the moment was there but the promise disappeared.
A bomb of insecurity hit me and I wondered and wondered why.

I wish I could document life for a job. I wish I could write for a job, dream, tell stories. I wish I could love for a job. For now, my photographs and writings are my biggest escape from everything. It seems to be a world where there is no judgement, no hurt.
It has been hard to find a job that I love. And by that I mean working with children. That besides art.
I've been searching, like every one has to do, but can't find anything. I'm starting to become unsure. How will we manage, if T and I want to start our own life together?

The little match is catching fire as I slide it down the matchbox. After I lit the candles I let it burn. I look at it as it finds its way to the end of the stick. I feel its warmth just a little on my face, but It feels like magic. The sudden warmth lets me forget life for a moment. It catches me in the journey of her flames. The twinkles in my eyes die when the fire does too. I look at T. He's sitting on my bed, doing work. I leave the magic of my fire and snuggle up to him. I lay my head on his leg and feel his subtle fingers on my head. I love it when he does that and it makes me calm. In this moment I don't want to be a part of society. I just want to love, be loved and live the life that I get only once. The life that I want. In these moments I miss you the hardest.

Dear you,

You, as no other, know how negativity can strangle up my veins like black, unbreakable but poinsonous roots. And you, as no other, know how to turn them into velvet flowers. 

The tree, my mother tree, the one you lie under has those velvet flowers and each morning when I pass your grave I touch them. I say hi to them and to you. 
I used to fall back on you when I was sad. When I was hurt or insecure. 
You would run in circles around me, over and over, and only that. Because you would know when I acted different. And I would read you in the same way. 
The escape that I once had with you is gone. Only photos, memories and some hair in my medallion is what I have left of that connection. Of you. 
I often look at the stars. At the big "w". It probably has a name. For me it does. They give me peace and let me talk to the universe. In thoughts or in words, in feelings or gestures. They let me talk to you, your soul, somewhere out there. Would it? Are you still your soul? 

I love you

I snuggle up next to T and kiss my medallion. It has become a most needed ritual. It makes me feel safe. Little things make me feel safe.

I know I can handle the big world, but for now I'll let the little girl in my soul out. I'm letting her cry and be scared. I'm gonna hug her by writing to her and to the world. And I know she will feel safe again.