One year ago now

One year ago

One year ago now I probably was drinking my second cup of coffee, at 9:37am, in our old dark office and listening to Dorian by Agnes Obel. One year later, I no longer drink coffee in the morning, and most days, I avoid coffee because it’s causing me acid reflux – you know, grownup shit.

I’m finding it so hard to concentrate because this weekend was a lot, and I’m still healing. I spent my morning searching for flight tickets to Bulgaria, and I found one for USD 176, and I was this close to booking the ticket before realizing that I would need to apply for a Schengen visa first, which of course, won’t be granted in two weeks. So I refrained, and I decided to search for more tickets early December and maybe think twice before booking the trip.

I’m listening to a song called Aman (‘safety’) by Bilal Shabib – it’s a song I discovered last year around the same time as now, and it’s basically a one-syllable song where he just repeats ‘Aman’ (safety) for two minutes. It has 9.1K views on YouTube. I tried making others listen to it, but it didn’t get much hype. But I love it.

I also found myself searching for home tattoos this morning. Something that maybe can guide me home, to the safety I am forever looking for. Something to remind me that it can exist somewhere, like my compass, and I found this:

It got tears to my eyes. How beautiful? The stems growing from concrete, steadying a perhaps unstable house. The crooked house, leaning to the left, with a badly drawn window in the middle of the brick roof. I’ll make this feel like home. I’ll create my own safety. I’ll try to love this body I’m in, and I will try to act as if It’s my home.

Do you think getting a third tattoo in three months is too much?

I don’t.

I’m going now, as I have 14 big tasks to finish today, and I’m not planning on staying over hours because I want to see my aunt. My aunt just got back from Canada to a house without my grandma. My grandma was living with her for the past three years, and my aunt hasn’t seen her children, who are in Canada since. She decided to go to Canada in early July to see them, and two weeks later, my grandma passed away. I hope coming back wasn’t so hard. She doesn’t deserve that.

Goodbye for now. I hope you’re safe.