Finishing things


I am a forever procrastinator, always living high up in the clouds and never ever finishing a thing. My therapist once suggested: just make your bed every morning. At least then you finish one thing a day!


In the past week though, I feel like I finished many things.


While wrapping up the month of June I rolled from one age to another, finishing thirty two. A year spent in three places I now call home: New Zealand, Belgium and Spain. A year of busting my ass working night shifts and taking long holidays. Of living together with my ex-partner to being single to exploring what it means to be in an open relationship. A year of meeting and reconnecting with magical friends who make my life sparkly. Of letting go, hardship, ease and peace. Of learning the ultimate life hack called cyclical living and edging closer and closer to knowing and growing into who I want to be.


I finished reading a book by Hemingway (Fiesta/ The Sun Also Rises), which I loved and celebrated by going to his favourite restaurant in Valencia and eating paella with two of the sweetest people in the world. I finished reading Kae Tempest’s Let Them Eat Chaos and feel like the world is an oyster filled with poetry. I’m in that oyster, soaking up all the goods. Words have been medicine more than ever and I’m so grateful to be able to indulge in texts of epic writers.


For a night, I stopped paying close attention to my alcohol intake as a romantic connection finished in the midst of a joyful day. Drinking dancing moving my head fast enough my heart couldn’t keep up. How do people deal with heartbreak these days? Is it even heartbreak if you were single anyway? More like a break of muses. Where will my poems flow from now? Who will take my body on ecstatic journeys during moonrise? Who will share music and food, pour me wine, make me lose all sense of time? Who will just be while I just am? A little ode to the love we shared and still share.


Finishing something is good I guess, as it always means something new will come up. Too bad I’m not someone who usually finishes things. I leave stuff tangled up in corners of every room. Projects, dreams, thoughts, romance, life. It’s all out there, an endlessly chaotic messy bunch. Just like my forever unmade bed.


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