I’m not clay. 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Someone will always be prettier. Someone will always be smarter. Someone will always be younger. But they will never be YOU.

(…. and that is your power)

My mind is running through rooms and passages. Entrance halls, back alleys and winding paths in lavish parks. From grey shady sidewalks to the green in treeline streets.

Walk with me.

Being alive remains wildly popular regardless of the harshness and beauty of reality. While my emotions range from joy to despair on any given day, the delight of possibility is addictive.

It actually makes little difference what tomorrow holds when one dreams in colour. The promise of the future being greater than today. When you stop dreaming you will surely become the living dead.

I crave to be understood. Not liked or agreed with. Big difference. Sometimes I follow verbal conversation with text. In explanation, I hope for tangible understanding. Not everyone will take the time to attempt to truly grasp who you are, why you act and say what you do. That is okay. You are not for everybody. 

I need to be me in a world that handed society the power to define what is acceptable and appropriate. I like the core me. I’m good people. There is so much more to who I am than purple hair, tattoos and a wicked sense of funny.

Focus on the people who appreciate your authentic, eccentric self. Those people you can win a war with. They are your tribe. They will never need convincing of your worth. They will remind you when YOU forget.

Don’t apologise for what you are not. You cannot be all things to all people. You are not salted caramel. 🙂

The moment you start caring what other people think, how they will react, what they will say… you are giving away your power.  Your self worth are at the mercy of their approval. Stop that, why subject yourself to such nonsense? You need your approval. You need to be okay with you. 

In any situation, you take yourself with you. Make sure you like who travels with you. 

A ball of clay. I don’t bend that way.
“Clay” by Grace Vanderwaal


Your silly words
I won’t live inside your world
‘Cause your punches and your names
All your jokes and stupid games
They don’t work
No, they don’t hurt
Watch them just go right through me
Because they mean nothing to me

I’m not clay

Try to change my shape
But, baby, I’m not clay
Sorry, not today
‘Cause, baby, I’m not clay

I wish you enough,

Wenchy x

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