First day of school and I’m already sinking. Screw this. I want summer. And if I want autumn I want it with people I love, in cities I can get lost in. 
Tag Archives: writing
Hail
The weather is getting colder and the sun rises bright every morning but the sky opens up for rain every dark afternoon. Autumn is closing in but I don’t want to think about hot chocolate and oversized sweaters, not yet. Not now when school hasn’t even started and I can still lock myself inside my room and ignore that time passes by so quickly.
The clay under the sand
On the beach next to my grandma’s summer house we found a pier where I asked my mother to put her hand in the water for it to look like she’s magic. I don’t know, she might be. And underneath the sand you can find clay that you can shape and let dry, or just apply all over your body for a homemade clay mask thingy. We looked very strange. It was a good day. 
If you do not 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.
Shades of summer
Brighter light means darker shadows and the warmth from the sun that makes sweat roll down your skin makes me appreciate cool, cloudy evenings so much more.
Stay
I swear to God I will never forget. I could write down page after page of the inside jokes, the memories and the stories from this week, but I prefer to keep them securely in my heart, just in my head and in the messy handwriting in my moleskine. I’ve been away to a youth camp where I always seem to spend the best weeks of my life, and I do not want to be here. I do not want to be home. I want to still be there, not thinking about the fact that the disadvantage of getting to know people from all over the world is that you can consider yourself lucky if you get to meet them once a year. And now I’m stuck in this room, in this house, in this city and in my school with these people. If I could, I would relive the weeks I spend at this camp over and over again for the rest of my life. I just want to go back.
Light means shadow
Summer keeps slipping away from me, running through my fingers in a blur of laughter and sun. sand has ended up in the corners in my room and I’ve gotten more freckles than I can count and for once I have time to do what I actually want to do, but also time to feel guilty about not doing it. About getting stuck in front of the computer instead of reading in the sun and checking out the new tv shows instead of going long boarding. I love the clear sky but long for rain and the excuse to stay inside. What I upload here though, are pictures of actual summer, the things that my soul loves, that my heart breathes, that fight to make me see more than myself and every now and then find their way beneath my skin.
Summer
I never used to like summer. It was too bright and too much and the sun kept bouncing of the pages in my books so that I had to go in or find a place in the shadow for it not to blind me. But now, now I’m a battery, constantly waiting for the sun to recharge me and warm my heart up enough for me to survive those long winter months, full of cold and never relaxing muscles. I think it’s a pity that we have to sleep. Were that not the case, I could see it all, stay up between sunset and dawn when it’s never really dark anyway because the sun may drop beneath the horizon, but never far enough that its light doesn’t still reflect on the cold sky. My creativity is fading though. Because I’m happy and some part of me doesn’t need the words flowing out of me at the moment, so I force them because it’s times like this I actually want to know how I feel.
Final dance
So now this year’s dance shows are over, they turned out to be unexpectedly many. This theater teacher saw us dance to a song they were gonna have in their production, so she invited us to dance there to, and in addition they needed more pirates in the play so we got to dress up and act a tiny bit! I think acting might be one of the most difficult creative things to do. I realize the few times that I try that I don’t know what a human really does or act or look like in different situations. Acting is about observing people, just like drawing or writing, but then to show the truth about the people you observe using your own body is impressing. But fun. And in the end we even got roses for our trouble!
Drunk on feelings
I’m a drug addict, but instead of atoms you’ll find feelings injected in my veins, and I crave them. Crave them when I feel way to empty, and the longing after them might paradoxically be the strongest of them. I want to define them, ground them, put them down on pages and scream them out in words. Paint my skin with their colour and patterns and let the water in the watercolour paintings of them run down the walls. I’ve never considered myself a happy person, because I have this. Because when I’m far away from God I’m drowning. My heart can find no peace and so I climb the walls and tear at my skin and curse the laziness that just makes me want to sleep when my brain is to high to find any rest. I used to think I was controlled by my thoughts because I’m always thinking too much, but what I’m thinking about is now and always depending on what I’m feeling, with no rationality or logic to remind me that sadness or joy is temporary. I’m an addict because my feelings control me way to much and I love them.
eirians 