me: I crave peace. also me: puts on a playlist called ‘witch screaming in the woods’ and knits aggressively.
There’s a very specific kind of peace I crave. Not the soft, classical-music-in-a-sunlit-room kind. No. I mean the kind where I’m in a dim room surrounded by candles that smell like “forest fire and regret,” knitting a scarf with chaotic urgency while a playlist that sounds like it was recorded in a haunted moss cave blasts in the background. One minute it’s eerie violins, the next it’s thunder and something vaguely screaming in Icelandic. It’s not calm exactly, but it’s… centered. Focused. My soul feels like it’s being gently exorcised through cozy domestic rituals and minor chaos.
And there’s something about the clicking of knitting needles against the soundtrack of eldritch wailing that feels right. Like yes, this is who I am now. A little creature in their nest, warding off the world one handmade sock at a time, half feral but fully cozy. People talk about mindfulness, have they tried hyper-fixating on a single loose stitch while pretending they’re the protagonist in a folklore horror movie? That’s transcendence. That’s peace.
