I received a leather-bound journal for Christmas. It was not the only one I got, I received two more (and also bought one for myself in December). It was, however, the one I began writing straight away.

The pen you see above the journal, the one with my name on it, was a gift from my bosses. Every employee received a pen and sweets last year’s Christmas (2018). This year, we received a little pig for good luck and a scratch card. True to my previous experiences, I didn’t win anything. This reminds me, one birthday not that long ago, my dad gave me ten scratch cards. I did not win anything there either. I seem to have other talents; scratching is not one of them.

And then, there is my fountain pen, my most beloved writing tool. Years ago, I got it as a gift from my then best friend. Things happened between us; I happened. And we are not friends anymore. It is just as well because I couldn’t handle close friendships right now anyway. I will always respect that woman, though, and wherever she is, I hope she is well, and that life treats her well, too.

About the words that are written on the page: someone dear to my heart is suffering a lot these days. I want to protect him. I don’t want to fix him, because that is not my job, and I can’t do that anyway. I just want to be there. Hold him. Keep the pieces together. I worry because I care. I worry a lot. But there is not a lot that I can do…

(Also, I noticed that there is a big grammatical issue: if I had the shape of water… If I was the shape of water?! Everything sounds a bit off… After all, English is by far not my native language and I am tired. I have not been sleeping well these last days…)


Don’t walk into the dark

Another picture I took this afternoon. It looks quite eerie in black and white.

What do you see here? In the early 90s, there was a huge storm in Luxembourg, and many woods were destroyed. Trees were uprooted, homes were damaged… When the forests were cleaned from roots, debris, and broken trees, new trees were planted. But not in an organic way. They were planted in neat rows. So now, when you take a walk in autumn or winter, when there are no leaves on the trees, you can see down the rows of neatly planted trees into the woods, and if it is quite, you can spot small animals too.


I took a short walk today…


It was very cold, and the sun slowly began setting behind the trees. My breath froze in the air, but the sun warmed my face. I looked up and smiled before I took a couple of photos to immortalize this moment. People tend to dismiss these moments or ridicule me for taking precisely the picture I want to take at that moment. They don’t know (and/or aren’t interested in my emotions or the feelings and thoughts I had when I took a particular photo.) I like to look at those pictures on my phone and remember those moments. I am a part of this beautiful earth.

And then I came home and saw a couple of text messages that left me in tears. I am sensitive. Emotional. That is just a part of me. And yet… I am afraid that people who meet me might think that I am cold and distant.

Life is confusing. Thoughts are confusing. Relationships are confusing.



You were fire. It was warm and cosy in your arms. Your licks brought heat and a rosy glow to my skin. You were fire: a guiding light – safety for my broken soul. You were fire. Dangerous. Destroying everything in your way. You were fire. Burning me with every touch, until I hid behind my highest walls. You were fire. Raging in my fragile dreams. You were fire. And everything turned to ashes and dust. Your fire went out for me. I turned into an ember, buried under the debris of our love. I missed your light. I missed your heat. I missed you so. But I needed to let you go. I saw your fire blazing from afar. Your fire found someone new. Pain and tears made it hard to be my own light again. You were fire. I am dust. And I am supposed to rise above the ocean… But not yet… Not yet. Soon.

I am enoughโ€ฆ And that is all that matters.

I am damaged. Damaged goods as they say, but I am also beautiful. I am like kintsugi. Broken, cracked, with edges that are chipped, but there is light in my healing wounds. My cracks are filled with gold. None of my scars are in vain. All the hurt and pain I experienced in my life made me eccentric and special (complicated and difficult), but I am strong. I am a survivor. And I matter. I fucking matter and my life is valuable.

Those words, all of the above are obvious to most people, they know their worth, they are not their own worst enemy. It is different for me. I sabotage my healing daily. If the right opportunity arises, I bow down, forget who I am, kneel, and submit to people claiming their love, yet never being there when it is important or needed.

It’s a sure way to invite narcissistic people into my life. And once they are starting to gaslight me, I break apart. In the end – and that’s the essence of me – I want to be loved the way that I am. But – and this is crucial too, – I am scared shitless that I can’t see, feel, or understand love. I just know that love is not supposed to hurt. It is supposed to feel safe and not vulnerable and fragile.

If I floated out into the ocean, closed my eyes, spread my arms, and jumped, would I fly, or would I drown?

Deep down inside, on a good day, and after a good night, I know that I am enough, and that should be all that matters.

(But I am greedy – delirious, I always want (need) more.)

Don’t leave me behind in your mind.

Locked, buried under the broken mess you left behind and where no one will find – me

See you soon… xx

PS: watch You on Netflix or read the books by Caroline Kepnes, or do both… Thank me later. โค๐Ÿ’œ


Do you remember a while ago, I mentioned that I want to have an extra (but expensive) watch?! Well, it was under the Christmas tree tonight. I love it. I LOVE it.

I had to share immediately.

Merry Christmas, happy holidays


We are watching Lord of the Rings with the fam. I am not a fan, never was. But we are having lots of fun commenting on everything, laughing out loud all the time. That’s family. ๐Ÿ’œ

That said, I need to go and prepare dinner โ€” fondue Bourguignonne. ๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜

7 years ago

Seven years ago, I started this blog. It became an important part of my life. Sometimes I share a lot, and sometimes I become a bit quieter. I guess that happens with everyone. These last months, I have been posting significantly more than before. Most notably, I posted daily in November.

Since I started this blog, I shared a lot of my self (no typo), but I shared a lot of fiction too. I wrote poetry and flash fiction; I shared music and my emotional and mental struggles. But, I also deleted many posts. I cleaned this place up recently; there were reposts I trashed and poems I took down to publish them in my book.

I would have never imagined that one day, I would be able to say that I am a published poet, but I am. Twice. (Even if it has the negative connotation of being self-published. “You’re not good enough to find a publisher”.)

I am proud of Unquiet Minds and Drowning in a Sea of Voices. Please buy your copy from your local Amazon sho, or straight from this blog.

The Top 3 posts in 2019:

Sweetest Taboo

Disappearing Feelings

Eyes closed, fantasy on

Mind you; these were the posts that were most read; it doesn’t mean they have many votes. (And even fewer comments.)

But that is okay… I appreciate comments a lot, though, silent visitors humble me and make me grateful too.

The Top 11 visiting countries are the following:

As you can see, the numbers are relatively small, but to me, they mean a lot. Luxembourg is far up, but I admit, those are fake views from when I had troubles with the app. I was trying this and that and here and there… (Between 50 and 70 should be subtracted.)

In all, there were visitors from 65 countries from all around the world.

Compared to last year, the visitor(s) from Peru and Iceland didn’t come back. Maybe next year again.

Maybe, successful bloggers are laughing now about the silliness of this post, but it means a lot to me. These small numbers are not so small after all.

You see, when you are here, reading my words and thoughts (and typos) on your screen, you are giving me your time, and time is the most precious possession we have. Choosing to spend it here – I consider that a gift.

Once in a while I consider giving this space up; once in a while I become self-conscious and wonder who will read the thoughts and musings and words of a silly Luxembourgish woman, but in the end, I love this blog. And no one is forced to stay on this site if they don’t like it.

Most posts, when they are not fiction, are moments of time in my mind. They are thoughts that may change in the morning after a good sleep – sometimes, they remain with me for a longer time. Just like a diary, albeit – a little more censored than my journal or diary will ever be.

Thank you for sharing your time with me, thank you for sticking with me through good, bad and worse, thank you for allowing me to be me, without ever casting any judgment directly at me.

I see you. I appreciate you. Thank you!

We survived the shortest day of the year – solstice.

Have a nice weekend,


I took a test…

I took a test that claimed it is able to describe my year 2020 in 3 words.

Here are my words – they came in this order:

  1. Pleasure
  2. Abundance
  3. Higher Self

I am just going to leave this here, and I will come back to this post next year around the same time to see how it all worked out.




I found this picture on my laptop… I was rediscovering some old photos of my kids – oh that was an amazingly happy walk down memory lane. I saw videos of them from around 2013. Back then, they were 8, 5 and 3 years old. The youngest changed the most – from her looks, but the least from her character. She was always singing and dancing and she was the cutest. It was very heart warming.

About the above pic… It was in a folder I had created around 2012. I don’t know who to credit for the picture and I am very sorry about that. Back then, I was less considerate about those things. All that doesn’t change the fact, that the picture itself still speaks volumes to me. It is very me. I guess, most of us feel that way some days.

I wish you a happy Thursday.