I was going to write something on this blog today.
But then I thought (no).
But then I thought yes. Because I don’t really have anything I feel like saying right now, but I have tons of notes on my phone and on various pieces of paper. So here are some of the things I’ve thought and written down lately:
- Growing up is a bit like biting into a cloud and expecting the chewiness of marshmallows, or the taste of childhood dreams, but just finding your own teeth.
- Fiction is a wonderful way of describing things that are real, through things that are not.
- It’s a big thing, to deal with your feelings and know who you are.
- Oh to not collapse under the weight of your own breathing.
- Maybe we’re all just scared that our demons are the only ones who actually know who we are.
- (There’s nothing under your skin. There’s no one beneath your bones.)
- When you don’t want to have the made up responsibilities associated with being human, remember that you don’t.
Good night, sleep well, sweet dreams.
My empty cup smells like salt water, and I leave Florida soon but I haven’t written about the ocean yet. My thoughts drown before I even manage to get my feet wet. So I remind myself of the tides that have been promised me, I don’t chase the waves but are lifted by the power of the moon.
Nothing ever changes but I always feel like I have to be going.
Move on, get better, take steps and make sure that they’re showing.
But I am still myself.
I like abstract ideas more than I like reality.
Not as much how things actually are – but in my head – how they’re supposed to be.
When I look out at my imagined timeline I see an open future of daydreams and hope, but I don’t think about the fact that I’d have to carry myself there, like a backpack of stones,
I’d have to bring these spinning atoms, these empty doubts, these worn out bones.
I am still myself.
Sometimes I manage to get rid of it all,
all the fear and failure, every sadness, every fall
I rinse it away with new water, leave it behind in black footprints that I forget even were mine,
but then I learn the same things every time.
And in between I hide in the songs that make me wish you’d pity me,
I shut myself in and dream of being seen.
I’ll glare at you but you won’t see it because in comparison to my heart my voice will always be lesser,
because I am a hopeless people pleaser and I walk in pink hair and cute dresses.
And that’s the drawn out prelude of the end, because I am a ticking bomb,
but it’s all internal so it will never unfold.
I just have an itching soul with nowhere to explode.
I’ll slam my fists against stone cold floors because you were supposed to make me better.
You were supposed to fix me.
If you want me. You better make me better.
Still. After this, after all. I am still myself.
If you want to know why I run like this
It’s because I have fear dripping out through my fingertips.
I stayed behind yesterday. We went downtown to have a photoshoot and I stayed when my friends went back. I walked around in that detached-from-reality kind of way and looked at how the city I stay in looks like a postcard. Clear skies and shiny metal buildings and palms and palms and palms, sun that makes your face melt off.
Then I sat down on the rocks and was happy.
And this might sound sad, but I loved going to a sea that wasn’t full of memories. In Sweden it’s tiny towns and cozy houses and driftwood, people with wrinkles too deep, an ocean that slowly breaks everything. Here everything just is. No childhood memories. Just sturdy rocks and people dancing.
The bridge before I ran over it.
The bridge after I ran over it, resting on a bench in the shade. My face was so red people gave me worried glances when they saw me.
My postcard wish is that you don’t send me home.
(Also, backstage from the photoshoot..:
My pocket moleskine, and what I’ve filled it with so far:
For the first time in my life I don’t start school in the autumn. It’s weird, like one summer I just quit and didn’t come back. I can’t decide if that means my summer holiday is nonexistent – because I don’t have anything to take vacation from – or if it’s eternal. I would write more, but for some reason the words are running away from me. My thoughts want to stay in my head, or maybe I don’t know what I think. I’m scared, anyway. Terrified of the future, and whenever I tell someone my age, they say that they are too. That only sort of helps. I suppose the problem is that we don’t have any excuses left. We’re not stuck anymore. But we are. Stuck in our heads and stuck in the realisation that you need money for everything. Stuck in believing money is the necessary-iest. I don’t really know where to go, and all my energy goes to convincing myself that’s okay.
This is something I feel like you’re ‘supposed to know’, and maybe I do in a way. Ideas, after all, are the beginning of everything. But I sat thinking about something on the bus today, the random sounds we make. Seriously, what even are words? Sure, we understand them, because our brain makes sense of them, but without that we’re just a bunch of creatures shaping our mouths differently. Or these letters. Lines and dots. We have a deal you know, when I write this, we have agreed what the words mean. If someone disagreed with you, or if everyone did, you’d be a lunatic drawing strange shapes and making weird noises without being able to reach anyone. It’s the same with money. Money doesn’t exist. It’s a freakin’ piece of paper. It would be as meaningless as any other dead tree if you wouldn’t think it symbolises some sort of value, or more importantly, if no one else thought so either. It’s something we know I suppose, but when I heard that ideas make up the world, I thought it was because they were the beginning of everything. An idea that then turns into something real, all that makes up the world. Maybe my mistake was considering just the things real. Ideas aren’t valuable because they come from sudden inspiration and result in something else, they’re valuable, because they are everything, they’re not the beginning, they’re just it. Things start with ideas, but systems are ideas. And systems are deals we’ve made in the hope of creating a better world, now we must all uphold them unless we want it to collapse.
Today I woke up twice, once at dawn and once at sunset. When I woke up in the morning everything smelt like rain. The sky was blue but the early sun reflected in dark grey clouds sinking to the horizon and everything was wet so I suppose it rained during the night.
I went to school and found out that my only class was cancelled and went back home.
I walked half an hour to take the bus to go to the dentist. I get on the bus in the middle of nowhere when I take that bus, so I walk away from my neighbourhood and further until I reach the motorway and walk in the tunnel underneath it and everything around me is green fields as long as I can see. I left my things at the bus stop on a long open road and ran away to pick the flowers I saw earlier, but when I was almost there I saw the bus coming over a hill and had to run back. I picked a small white flower outside the dentist office instead and it’s pressed between the pages of my notebook.
When I got home I did the perfect four things that I know make me happy, but still rarely do; 1. Jog 2. Shower 3. Eat 4. Sleep. Without any distractions or pointless internet-browsing. So that’s why I woke up now in sunset again. At first I thought the sky was grey and that you could barely see the sun through the clouds. Then I just realised that it already had sunken right under the horizon and the sky was actually clear, but so devoid of colour that it was a light grey instead of blue. I lied in bed for a while, looked through my big windows. Picked up three different books and read a few pages of each.
And now I’ve gone back inside for that pointless interest-browsing and some toast. Though writing is rarely pointless, I think. And maybe I should not despise my internet-browsing so much, because sometimes I rather have to convince myself to like the person I am at the computer to make me stop wasting time on it.
Anyway. The sky is black when I walk back out. Stars and stars and stars above. It’s 29 days in school until our final grades are to be written into the system and then I graduate a few days later. And now life manages to be really calm and slow and stressful at the same time. Even though I’m excited for everything that comes after, it feels like I have an entire life to live until then. One of those eternities within eternities.
It’s always interesting to see what my past midnight personality will end up doing. Yesterday it was fudge.
Now, I don’t bake a lot. And not because I don’t enjoy cookies and pastries, but because I’m lazy as fu…dge. But after midnight my personality always turns a bit unpredictable. There’s a quote about this I think:
There. Over thinkers. Silent seekers. A nicer way to say that I turn a bit crazy. Here, another picture:
Kind of how my brain looked last night, if you would change the pictures of the universe to pictures of chocolate fudge. Actually how my brain looks now, because even thought I’m gonna post this tomorrow, it’s still 2 am now when I start to write this (obviously..). I’m gonna take some pictures of it tomorrow though, 2 am has got horrible lighting. Now I should probably go to bed.
2 am. See? Horrible lighting (And see how it’s kind of grainy in texture? Yeah, that’s because it’s mostly just sugar)
Next morning. So I ate most of it for breakfast and got a stomach ache. Difference between kid and adult life: now you’re responsible for your own candy intake and can’t whine about things like that.
Probably shouldn’t call it fudge, basically just a sugary, chocolate-y thing that tastes good with your cereal.
The recipe I used I found here: http://chefronlock.com/recipes/midnight-snack-quick-microwave-fudge/ My requirement when googling was that it hade to be something sweet and unhealthy, I had to have all the ingredients at home and I had to be able to make it in a few minutes. Since this recipe was awesome I might even add this to my list of Things I do after midnight when I should really be sleeping, along with eating pomegranate and drinking tea, drawing, dancing in the kitchen and taking long baths. Well.
(Edit: Looking back at this post and seeing how little sense it made. Hah.)
I’ve always thought that to be strong, you have to be able to smile regardless of what you’re feeling on the inside. I still think that. Put it on the list with all the other thoughts I can’t stop having even after I realise they’re not true.
I wonder if I was depressed last autumn. Probably not, because I know people who have gone through actual tough times, and it was not like that. I think? At least nobody noticed. Me included.
A lot of times when I cry it helps. Afterwards I can become almost giddy. Other times, it’s a really good cry, but I still feel a bit sad. It’s okay, it’s all okay now, but I’m just a bit sad.