“I’m not gonna say what we’re doing or where we’re going,” my friend told me, and I got increasingly confused as we got on the tram, went to the outskirts of the city, got off on the stop next to a tiny lake (??) and just walked walked walked.
And then we came to a place where you could buy Christmas trees!! She bought one for me. It was the sweetest thing. I’m staying in Germany for Christmas instead of going home to Sweden, and now there’s a tree in our apartment 🖤🖤
My flatmate has since I moved in both bought me a pomegranate since that’s my favourite, and brought her “vetevärmare” from home to give me since she remembered I said I like those. Love language. Also I do not know how to say vetevärmare in english, like a heat pack thing? That you put in the microwave and use kind of like a hot water bottle, except that it has wheat in it. Or cherry seeds, in the one she brought me.
❉
Although this is not exactly what I meant with my last post, drinking flower tea does make me really happy. 
I don’t like endings.
There something special about being backstage. Too many lights and wires you’re not allowed to touch, your own little corner where you put your things, and the way you see the entire show being built up and practiced. And then the doors open, and for a few hours people get to see what you have been working on for weeks, months. And then the doors close and everything gets shut down and is no more. It’s not a painting or poem to keep. The performance only exists when you perform it, and then it’s forever gone.
I can usually look forward to do it all over again the next year, but now I graduate and have to quit just when I feel like I actually know everyone.
So yeah, and I cried. Which was awkward, because my face gets completely red and I can’t hide it at all, and everyone get really surprised and slightly scared because I don’t usually cry and no one expects it from me. I wasn’t really that sad though. It’s just way too good, so when the curtains fall for the last time, I panic because it’s over it’s over it’s over.
Love
There is nothing you can do on this earth that is as great as loving God and loving other people. I’ve always been annoyed by how every single song is about love, every single thing in life centered around whether or not yo have someone special, and it still bothers me a bit. Because love is more often than not, not romantic love. It’s every single person in your life, your best friend and your family and the stranger whose bus ticket you offered to pay. True love starts in a heart that’s overflowing, and it’s everything, touches everyone.
I’m made of flaws, insecurities stitched together. I’m the most confident person in the world, yet people terrify me. I don’t trust them, I trust me, but I do not trust them to not judge me whenever I’m trying to make a joke or laugh too loud. It’s so beautiful being around people you love, and whom you know love you back. Still, I egoistically rejoice in the feeling of having people love you more than you love them. Simply because it’s an ego-boost. The problem of the world lies in us trying to fall in love with ourselves instead of simply being ourselves and falling in love with other people.
I just want to create stuff and get enough sleep. I want the contrasts, the darkness of the world and the brightest soul humanly possible. I want the world and I want to get out of it, be more than it to be able to look down at what it really is. I want late swedish summer evenings, when the sun doesn’t set and I can sit next to my big window painting in the light from it. I want to travel the world and I do not want to own my own heart. I want to be no one and I want to be the person everyone dreams to become. Freedoms lies in the traces of my decisions, rests in the way my heart could never be locked in a city to long, and belongs in the wilderness of nature and the love that makes me run.
eirians 