The Power of Words on Paper

 

In 2015, I went through a really tough break-up. I will spare you the details. Yet, I am thankful for a process I discoverd during this difficult time, which helped me tremendously: writing. So simple and so effective. When I was overcome by emotions, or when there was something I desperately would have liked to tell my ex-partner, I sat down and wrote: Letters, Poems, Stuff. What came out of it was simply amazing and so liberating.

Often, I would write with my left hand, which is my non-dominant hand. In these moments, it felt like there were words coming from a different place beyond myself and my usual understanding.

This process, really, REALLY helps. Sit down, get a piece of paper – anything will do – and a pen, use the "wrong hand" and just let the words come. I can almost promise you, you will be suprised.
- If you cannot sit down immediately when the emotions arise, schedule a date with yourself for later.

I will now share my first text with you.

THAT NIGHT

Do you remember that night?
We went out dancing
It was
my night.
We were celebrating.

Except you forgot
I was next to you
when you were busy
making friends with the brothers
in suits.

You don’t usually like the brothers
here in Germany.
You think they are
not decent.
But those ones were different.
Those ones
wore suits
and they came
through the VIP entrance.

Remember that night
you had drinks
even though
you know 
I get worried
when you do that.
You know I know
your emotions 
can get you in trouble
with booze.

Remember that night we had
so much fun
dancing.
You complimented me
on the improvements I had worked on making
to share your dance
with you 
for the first time
in two years.

Then later
that night

you changed.
That guy we met –
you thought I had been with
and I have, but who cares?
We were not together at that time!

You like to say
“I’m not a jealous guy.”
but your face
tells a different story.

Remember that night
you didn’t want to let me

sleep at your place
even though you knew
I was in need?

That moment I realized
there is more.

Then that night
becomes a blur.

Your upset talking
your pacing up and down the hallway
scare me.
I want to leave,
but you don’t want me to.
You become manipulative.
You start a power game
I am destined
to lose.
I scream
– you –
on top of me covering my mouth.
Me 
scared
I know in this moment
it’s over.

Later that night
you spat in my face.
you gathered so much spit
in your big mouth
it was all over me
smelling.

Disgusting.

That moment
I stopped feeling.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to do that when we break up.”
I hear you say.

You tried so hard you say.
– Really?
This is how hard you tried?

You spit at me again.

Your face full of arrogance
and fear.

A hurt little boy
confused,
in rage
throws himself on my bike
like a mad man.
I scream
until you let go –
I know
screaming is the only way
to make you stop.

I hear you call after me.

“Looser bitch!”

Do you remember that night?

I forgive.
I don’t forget.

You still believe you say
the next day.

I don’t.


Namasté

Friederike

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