En vän med en bil made me smile a little on my way home. That's always something.
I decided to delete my post because it was so boring for me to read again.
And it wasn't me. It wasn't me.
I wanna listen to music that screams, but with a strong melody. Not too calm, not too hard.
Like some of his songs, but I can't find them.
Why do I keep wondering about how things could have been, when they aren't? What's the point, when I don't want it anyway? Guess I spend too much time on my own. Either/Or.
OH MY GOD HOW BORING I FEEL.
Vi måste härifrån, den här staden drar ner oss till botten av ån.
Varför skriver jag när jag inget har att säga och inget som jag kommer vilja läsa när jag dör? Vi måste börja leva. Åh, jag hade velat gå på WayOutWest och lyssnat på Uppsnärjd i det blå. Det hade varit en känsla.
Right now. It accured to me. That it's so weird that we are two people in this room right now. Still we're not at all at the same place. Do we even feel connection? I don't. Know. I don't know. I don't, by the way. I'm wondering about if it would've made any kind of difference if I sat here alone.
Och vi kan le, men bara i sekunder. Det är uttryck för känslor och det är förbjudet.
I hela mitt liv.
Herregud vad jag vill umgås med någon eller några nu, är rastlös och har tusen saker att säga, men så vore det förstås inte om jag faktiskt satt med någon här just nu för då skulle jag vara likadan som vanligt, mig lurar jag inte. Men vad synd det är att det är så. Jag vet vissa situationer då jag verkligen satsar hårt på att säga en sak, och gör det. Då skäms jag lite till en början, men det går över, för ingen har märkt något. Ingen har märkt min rädsla. Vissa gånger säger jag för mycket utan att jag ens har tänkt på det. Och det skäms jag också för ibland. Men vad spelar det för roll egentligen, when we're both here but still not. If this is my life and if I can't be sure if anything else exists, why should I care, then?
Det finns ingen musik som Håkan Hellström.
OCH DU SKRIVER ORD SOM MORD I HANDEN..............
Let my cry, fly or let everything die.
I miss the time we had, every day I wonder where it went.
My dad thinks that everything he finds has some kind of samlarvärde.
What's love, then?
Hello, I think I did connect with this writing a little. I tried to at least, and intent is a thing I think. It exists.
SvaraRaderaWhat I intend to do is important. IT IS. I make choices and they matter. If I want to drink three cups of coffee past six o'clock in the evening and give up writing the article for Per at midnight and spend the rest of the long long night regretting the coffee, I better do it. Because the coffee was a fantastic idea at six o'clock, I can remember how productive I was feeling, and it's good to know when to give up... I just wish I didn't have to regret every little cup of coffee.
My "mistake" or whatever is that I wanna stay up for too long, just to punish myself or something, cause I know I'm gonna hate myself for it six hours later.
SvaraRaderaIt just feels like I'm losing time if I go to sleep too early (I think it's because of that anyway). But I've got to learn that I'm gonna lose so many good thoughts the next morning, because of the fatigue.
Because I don't have that many good thoughts 12.30 am. The nights are just trying to fill my heart.
Time is so silly. I mean people's conception of time. We put things off so that they can fester and get worse. We stay up all night to punish ourselves and feel shitty the next day when everything is different anyway. I don't save money. I don't brush my teeth every night. I don't always look both ways. And of course it doesn't matter at all until eventually comes and eventually tends to suck.
SvaraRaderaHow do we always forget about time? Why is it that things change, that how we feel right now is as good as gone by the time we've gotten a grip on it? we forget EVERY TIME, and we try to do something about it and that's the worst thing to do, to fight it.
Well I did have a gorgeous time coming home from town. As I ascended the path behind slottet all out of breath, the weak, nordic, noon sun shone so triumphant on the sad flakes kind of just falling over, so fucking sad, and I pedaled without looking where I was going because my heart was screaming and everything was and I didn't want to die at all.
Hope you're well.
I believe that these things are something that I'm really gonna have to think about. Especially because I feel that some sentences träffar mig så hårt.
SvaraRaderaThis is not me questioning you, this is me asking about what you mean by "everything is different anyway", what do you mean is different?
Maybe our feelings disappear by the time we've gotten a grip on them because we are afraid. Or maybe they disappear because what we really do is catching them, when we've gotten the grip of them. Maybe we've found their secret then.
What really happens when we fight it?
"And I pedaled without looking where I was going because my heart was screaming and everything was and I didn't want to die at all."
Jag önskar att mitt liv var så. For a change.