For the last couple of days I got sucked into a hole.
I have been wanting to sort through my closet and cellar for a long time.
But I kept postponing it. Afraid that once the lid of Pandora's box is lifted, the chaos will only be greater than it was before.
Until last week.

My personal version of Poe's Tell-Tale Heart: something buried, pounding louder and louder until it is impossible to ignore.
I’m not exaggerating when I say it wasn’t physically bearable any longer.

And while my mind told me that this was probably the worst time for yet another project – I am currently laying the groundwork for something new, slowly finding my footing –
it turned out: it was exactly the right time.

I am restructuring my entire life and this phase is noisy. Paperwork is time-consuming and distracting me from my creative projects, but I tell myself, that once I get it done right everything else will run smoothly.

So I strip my life apart, down to the bones.
Even myself.
The idea is not to shrink though – quite the opposite.

What is taking shape now actually began in 2016. This is where the real mess began.
Whatever I touched just crumbled.
Every direction I turned to was a dead end.
Relationships just fell apart.
New people came, but never stayed.
And absolutely nothing stuck.
It was brutal.
And a dangerous dance.
Let’s leave it at that.

Now what?
Would I let myself slide further down or find my way up again?
It could have gone either way.

A friend recently asked me if I was able to feel lonely, because to him I appeared like someone ‚who wasn’t really able to‘. I thought of writing about it, but I feel this answers it already.
Or shall I?

If you've gone through situations like this, the birthdays you've celebrated alone, the New Year's Eves you've spent wandering around, watching people through their windows, your steps carried by the music you chose as your companion. You’re on the outside. But through these moments I learned that loneliness happens inside. Music, creating art helped me not to be lonely anymore.
Or at least – less.

I know it’s not ill will. People just assume I’m fine. No hard feelings there.
His question came at an interesting time, considering the sleepless nights I spend writing these texts.

Was this just a spring clean or am I closer to becoming the May Queen?
Why was I led to open my cellar door and tear apart the entire construct of a life I had recklessly locked in the dark?
Reflecting back and writing this on Easter Sunday is eerily accurate.
And – for the astrology enthusiasts – don’t even get me started on the Libra Full moon…
What I condemned as a waste of time when I could be so much more productive, work harder on what I am intending to build, turned out like a precious gift.

And after I stopped resisting, I let go and let myself dive deep into my past. Between the many sheets of old paperwork I tossed in the trash, I discovered notes, scribbles and pictures.
Little treasures of my younger self.
Old works from school, projects, a ton of books and texts I had written.
Precious reminders of who I was.

It was almost a spiritual experience.

I got so lost in this world that I could finally get my mind off the things that were completely draining me recently. Being confronted with my personal timeline, showed me that after everything I had lost and stripped away, I simply distilled myself down to my essence.

I am so thankful for being able to write – to wrap words around a thought, dress feelings up through letters and express them just as I am pleased.
It was more than just a spring clean. It was rather a reminder of myself.
And it’s nice to rediscover your ‘why’.

Happy Easter.
Best vicious,
Lou.