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  • Writer's pictureyannick-robin eike mirko

where i'm from...


written sometime after 2020 and before 2023, during a trauma-based therapy course.


where i'm from...is broken.

because i've filled it with too many things i would soon learn to leave behind. once heavy in weight, now only made so by lessons + the sorrows they've created.


where i'm from...is a conglomerate

of traditions, languages + antics picked up from pit stops

that i've claimed as my own in an attempt to belong, if even for a moment.

the watch worn inwards, the pen held in that particular way, the making of a third culture.


where i'm from...believes in nothing

because it can't + wouldn't want to if it could.

it is the only constant in the endless change + running away,

though it's starting to breakdown into a useless nothing.


where i'm from...is irreparable now

though the acceptance of having written that comes from somewhere

far from despondence, as does the acknowledgement

that it was never a town, a community, a house, a family.


i am from my tired hands + the cardboard box I managed for so many years to keep

+ never give up on despite

their constant relocation + over-layerings of the wrong kinds of tape.


where i'm from...though atypical,

will always be enough.





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