A good kind of after-sadness

„And what now?“, I ask my witch as the last chocolate is eaten. „What‘s next?“
Layla giggle into her now empty bottle of wine. „After sadness, you mean?“

After sadness.
After raging against the universe, with cupcakes at midnight and a sunrise flavoured in wine.
After an eternity spent in Vanilla scented candle light.
After loss.
Unheard screams.

„Where do I go from here?“
Layla giggles once more. „After sadness comes weirdness.“

The weirdness of dying my hair pink, although bleach makes my throat close up?
Of staying awake equipped with needles to leak out into the night?
Of clinging onto dreams and staring at the horizon?

„After sadness comes weirdness“, I repeat those words of my witch.

Maybe the next step is the kind of weirdness that makes me smile instead of leak.
The kind of weirdness that makes me buy all the clothes 16 year old me would have loved, because I realized that some things people accept while growing up are wrong to me.
The kind that makes me believe in one day finding my witching novel in a bookstore.
The kind that makes me be so furious about the world, I actually find my humor again.
That would be a good kind of weird.

My witch giggles in understanding of my thoughts. “The kind of weird that makes you move into your house in the forest, to brew scary stuff and have the oddest visitors over.”

A good kind of after sadness.