© 2020 by Laura Eigenmann
some kind of miracle
All rights reserved. Printed in Switzerland. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmited in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permision of the publisher except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.
Bibliographic information by the German National Library (DNB): The German National Library lists this publication in the National Bibliography; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at www.dnb.de.
Cover Design by: Núria Solsona
Illustrations by: Sophie Graff
Text Design by: Laura Eigenmann
Print and Publication by: BoD – Books on Demand GmbH, Norderstedt
ISBN: 978 3 74941 933 3
to the dreamer in you
in me
in all of us
If you want me to
I will be the one
That is always good
And you’ll love me too
But you’ll never know
What I feel inside
That I’m really bad
Little trouble girl
Little Trouble Girl by Sonic Youth, 1995
I was four years old when I was first able to put my life’s most essential cornerstones down in writing: Mama, Papa, Laura. Written in capital letters and with an inverted R, they laid the ground for a magnitude of stories that would accompany my loneliest childhood days and follow me into late adolescence. I had always been an unusual girl. When the young and naive affection I offered the world was ridiculed and rejected time and time again, I turned pain into beauty by transforming it into rhymes. Realizing that the world didn’t hold a place for the colorfulness that was my soul, I used my imagination to invent a self that could – and would – be accepted.
Convinced that everything – anything – must and will come to an end and that people will always leave, I became voraciously hungry for experiences. I aimed to continually get to the bottom of what connected us as humans and in such kept drowning myself in everyone seemingly offering me a place to rest my head. Eventually, I gave my heart to someone who could not only truly understand the dustiest corners of my mixed-up soul but ultimately also stripped me of everything she could find there. I didn’t know it back then, but her leaving left me bereft of my writing. Lost for words, I had lost myself.
The years that followed were marked by self-medicated numbness and a quest for vengeance so ferocious it would not only destroy the sensitive girl inside of me but everyone else that dared to come too close to her. On the outside, I grew up to be an independent so-called successful woman, but deep down my brokenness prevented me from the very connection I had once so desperately searched for.
They say it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is. To me, that meant meeting the person that would untangle the madness that haunted me and then watching my darkness slowly but ever so surely break him. His love for me was like Icarus’ devotion to the sun – pure, painful and ultimately fatal. Its honesty cracked my heart open, shining a light into the ugliest rooms within myself and brutally forcing me to take responsibility for what I had buried there. Sadly, it took me too long to understand that this, too, had been a gift.
At last, the downfall turned out to be my redemption. Remembering the girl I used to be had set me free. Not long after, my heart was captivated by a love so solid and nurturing, it could convince me that sometimes, people do