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PainShe woke up that morning, but she didn’t really want to. So she closed her eyes and dozed off again. That happened a couple of more times. Waking up, dozing off, waking up, dozing off. She knew she had to take her dog out, and she felt guitly. But it was just too much right now. She wasn’t ready yet to face the world. Again. It was the same story every morning really. She stayed in bed until her alarm said it was 12:09. That didn’t really mean it was ten past twelve though. Her alarm was running fourty minutes ahead. She counted back, it was now 11:29. That was pretty late. She had to get out, she couldn’t leave the doPain by ~Noekert
Mai 7thHow can it be that the thing I want to share most of all, the thing that’s on my mind every single second of the day, the thing I want to shout out from the rooftops, or quietly wisper to my closest friend at the same time is my biggest secret? How can it be that such a little fact can cause so much fear, and so much disunderstanding with people. Why am I so afraid to share? What’s the worst thing that can happen? I’m afraid to share because I’m afraid they will not understand, because I know they will not understands. They will tell me lies, because they can never know how I feel, they never knew and they will never kMai 7th by ~Noekert
De rode parapluElke ochtend om half negen zit er een meisje in de trein van nijmegen naar ’s hertogenbosch. Ze zit altijd in dezelfde coupé op precies dezelfde plaats, schuin tegenover mij. Als ik de trein in kom, zit ze er al. Ik kijk naar haar terwijl ik ga zitten. Ze draagt altijd dezelfde maagdelijk witte jas en heeft dezelfde bloedrode paraplu bij zich, een bleek gelaat. Ze ziet me niet terwijl ik naar haar kijk, haar niets ziende ogen staren naar buiten. Ik vraag me af waar ze aan denkt, en wat ze in haar gedachten voor zich ziet. Ik probeer haar blik te vangen, maar het is te vergeefs. Elke dag stapt ze uit bij dezelfde halte. Rosmalen.De rode paraplu by ~Noekert
Tired 
