this week.

on mondays my bed is the warmest. i make coffee and drink it while checking all the texts you didn’t send me. i text you first. i succed and fail at least 50 times and it’s still noon. i fail faster. i push the coffee cups aside to make way for more. i get a new canvas. more emails i can’t unsend. more calls i avoid to make. more time for you and less for me. i know exactly what i’m doing.

on tuesdays my clothes don’t fit me. i fast. i lock the door and restrict myself from bad thoughts. i drink only water and promise myself that i deserve only the purest.

on wednesdays i wake up early and pray. i sharpen my pencils and accept myself the way i am. i get a new haircut and new clothes. i don’t need to fit them, they need to fit me.

on thursday it rains. it rains so much that the flowers i carry melt into my skin and leave a golden shimmer. im ready for the sunshine.

on fridays i dont belong. i am running and tripping, my feet are heavy with expectations and my bag full of unfinished tasks. i never end a day, the hours keep counting and piling. i don’t want to sleep.

on saturdays i study dutch and think about weird stuff. on saturdays i buy cheap wine, i mix it with nice words and pour it in your glass. i put a blanket on you and watch you nap. on saturdays i eat cookies in the tram.

on sundays i wash my hair, clean my soul and wipe the dust off my desk. i put oils on my body and clay on my face, i delete my browser history and hide your pictures under my mattress. on sundays i fall asleep slow. there is no monday.