one.

this is the last chapter

and I'm strangely sad to actually end any of this, but

someone told me that things from the past aren't the only things that last,

someone told me to think of the future

I wrote quite about a hundred times and offered the darkest places living inside of my head,

I'd say inside of my heart, but that's seriously one of the brightest places I know

there was my past, my fears, my weakest spots,

my family, my scars and nights with too many shots of

alc and loneliness,

there are stories with truth, stories imagined,things I rather wish to tell myself than any other

honestly I don't know who's reaching this,

I'm thankful for your comments, for every second you spend reading

and

I don't want to leave,

but there's something greater waiting for us

I close the door'n take my guitar,

I drive away until frankfurt isn't in sight anymore

I'm leaving

and this isn't feeling like an ending at all

I'll start new stories

with more than tequila tales in between,

I'll breathe the night, getting drunk from watching stars, flying high while laying down

someone ones told me I should start to write in english,

I should start to publish,

someone kicked my ass on top of that stage,

someone wasn't able to tell me any stories, so she decided to use the truth

another one fell in love with her own thoughts,

honestly some would say she just failed, but

I don't blame her

and I know families with a warmth that simply watching feels like being loved

I know that the term family isn't about what went wrong or what your parents shouldn't have done,

isn't about fights between siblings and a broken childhood,

cause that's not how it works

family is what it means when they send you a video from a thousand miles away singing happy birthday on your cell phone display

family is coming around when you're ill, just like friendship,

family is being yourself and getting accepted,

family is caring, is comforting, 'home is not a place, it's a person' everyone in love says

I don't know about the definition of homes and the difference between family and real friends

I just know that I'm too young,

too clueless

to tell you what life is about

I am just writing,

taking my 26 letters,

maybe more,

my phonetic sounds that I adore

and there's nothing left except black ink on all of this pages

poetry isn't just a strategically kind of using metaphors and exaggerations,

it's writing about things you can't describe,

it's painting without using colour,

it's paradox and making sense,

it's unique and more than just a momentarily expression of joy, heartbreak or breaking free from whatever was stopping you from who you want to be

it's not just about goethe, e.a. poe or charles bukowski,

it's not about art or comparing to music

I think

it's just what you want it to be

and I once thought:

the thing about poetry is

that you could read the same verse

a thousand times

and still

you caught yourself getting shocked

while discovering a new meaning that is walking around the edge

and I think

love

is just the same

so this is my goodbye

maybe we will meet again at some other place

maybe we need time, new polaroids pinned on our wall,

maybe we need to fall in love again at least with ourselves

maybe

we should stop to write about what's next and start to live with all that's left

this is called part one

and that's how it ends,

cause ending is just the first step,

if you really want to start