American Gods

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Woken by a row, things falling and smashing and banging and people screaming. And then the door slamming shut and hysterical tears. It was a pretty interesting way to wake up, and then realising I was bleeding. Great. Falling out of bed, checking that everyone is ok, cleaning up, then back for an hour of half-sleep. Then up again, shower, dress, coffee, bike to work. Turns out I don't start until another 3 hours, which meant I biked home again, and here I am. What a great day, I can't wait for it to be over. I just want work to be over and slouch in the couch with a Harry Potter movie.

I realized why I am so reluctant to go to work. I am afraid. I have a strong fear of failing, of being wrong, of doing wrong. This I have had since I started school, because that's when I realized there is such a thing as being wrong. But is there really? Why do adults teach their children that they are wrong, stupid, ugly, not good enough? Why can't they teach them how wonderful they are, teach them to appreciate the miracle they are and the miracles around them? Ingrained fears are passed on through generations, children punished for their parents mistakes. Even if we mean to do good, sometimes we do more damage than good.

Reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman, a really captivating book. It's weird, but it's brilliant. The kind of books I will be writing. Speaking of writing, I want to start. But my Write Monkey broke down. And speaking of speaking: secrets and lies. There are things I never tell, and there are things I never hear, and there are things that are just falling. Dazed looks staring into nothingness, even in company the mind slips away, drifts on a cloud and is lost to obscurity. Who can tell who we are? What have we found? The same old fears.

Split yourself in seven

Miriam åker till Canada imorgon. Jag vill också. Fem långa veckor kommer hon tillbringa där, och fatta hur mycket jag kommer sakna henne! Vi som skulle på festivaler i sommar tillsammans, leka och busa och göra Malmö osäkert (Ystad skiter vi i). Säga avsked tidigt tidigt imorgon, jag kommer gråta. Men hon kommer ha det underbart...

Here I am with a cup of tea, can barely speak, coughing my lungs out. Had to skip work both yesterday and today and the guilt is eating away at me. I feel like a really terrible person. I hope I can make that up by taking almost all the shifts this coming week. I hope I am better tomorrow.

Dagen spenderades i febrig halv-koma. Sedan har jag bara läst Harry Potter, spelat Harry Potter och skrivit om Harry Potter. Det är mysigt det.

Ignore that person: never tells me stuff anyway, my leak of information is over, has to find it someplace else. And that other one really should get a spoonful of its own medication, a spoonful of how annoying some comments are. And then someone who will not miss me at all, why bother trying to make contanct then, I am drifting away into the shadows, lets see if someone notices. Work on Midsummer, hope you guys can come up with enough drama without me to make it interesting enough. Bye bye.

The animatrix

Amazing animations in the animatrix. If I was a computer wiz, that's what I would have worked with... but maybe I can write and draw storyboards instead. That would work too. Although right now I only feel like writing a hp spinoff about the four founders of Hogwarts as teenagers. That would be cool. Robin Hood-ish. Beautiful minds.

And I found out someone has been telling dirt and someone does not contact me and someone is avoiding me and shit omg maybe I behaved badly again. What do people expect of me. I am not an angel and nobody is perfect. And just because of that more people are wrinkling their noses. Jeez. And then that thing where he said no and once again I stood rejected. And now I will soon turn off my cell phone and pretend that none of these tiresome drama people exist. Why is it so hard to just be peaceful? Why is everything blown out of proportions? Why am I mistrusted. People assume I am a drunkard and a looser that can't improve. Let me tell you, that last time I puked was because I was SICK not because I had too much alcohol. Excuse me for entertaining a virus in my body. And then later, I was just EXHAUSTED, not passing out from too much smoke. Excuse me for taking myself out on my graduation. But interpret as you wish, and keep spreading that sensational dirt, I bet your lives get much more interesting when I'm around to provide gossip material. Cheers.

It's not a sign, I know a sign when I see one, and I also know my bad sides. I know what I would like to improve and I am working towards that. More than some people maybe think. Some people only see the bad dreams, and judge by the nightmare figments. They are not awake from the matrix. You can be a victim, or anything else you'd like to be. But they don't understand that.

Real friends emerge from the mist. Am I alone? Is it strange that I mistrust everyone? The answer is simple and the answer is: no.

Fuck y'all suckers!

It is over. For real. The euphoria of finishing is gone, replaced by the sadness, that these people will not be in my life anymore. That I am moving on, from these things to other things, to unknowns. I will miss it. The classes, the teachers, the people. All of the people, even the ones I thought I hated. Think that we have wasted so much of our time hating. I want to keep in touch with more people than I know I am going to, people that will not keep in touch with me. Exactly like it was 2 years ago, when I wanted to get to know people, people who did not want me as a friend. I guess this is the dilemma that will haunt me forever. That I want so much more than other people. That I feel so much more than other people, and the feelings are not returned. A wise person said “you are a 'love-or-hate' kinda person”, and that is a very true statement. I just hope most people out there choose love, instead of hate.

Fuck. This. Shit. Yes, I am crying if you were wondering. If this was in PDP or IB1, I would now go on to say how I am done with feelings, how I'm closing up shop and “fuck y'all suckers”. But I'm not. I can afford to be vulnerable. There is nothing more beautiful than an open heart. And my heart is as of now, wide open. I will miss everyone, I will want to keep in touch with everyone. I don't care if “everyone” don't want to stay in touch with me, it doesn't matter. My door, and my heart, is always open for them anyway.

Graduation tomorrow, goodbye my lovers, goodbye my friends, you have been the ones, you have been the ones for me...

7 nation army

So when there is a vacuum we retreat to fetus position. Or some of us do. Find old, treasured pages of wisdom to walk once again with a mind that has since its last visit experienced things far beyond the imagination found on the pages, and yet treads them with the same delight. This delight is however diminished by the wariness in the background of the mind, the ever-lasting paranoia, the open wound throbbing of soreness as soon as it gets too close to something that might touch it.

Anyway, that was not what my mind was hovering on. My mind was hovering on the feeling of a lover's hungry hands... And on all the associations, the small connections, the nerve impulses. Like in the Da Vinci Code, where one thing leads to another, one step to another. Find the pieces of the puzzle. And how awesome it would be to have a job like Black Mamba. Talking to myself at night, back and forth through my mind behind a cigarette. This cough I have no is bad, and it is most definitely from smoking. Yet, since everyone is telling me "quit, quit quit!", I will do exactly the opposite, and you all know how that works. Stubbornness to the point of stupidity. Why do people smoke? Well, before getting actually addicted, it is a piece of an image. There is coolness attached to it no matter what anyone says. All the bad motherfuckers in movies smoke for a reason. Look at the cover of Pulp Fiction for an example. But that is not the reason. And reason is not what I will speak of, but of the stupidity of choosing music for a flak. I can't really say anything since I wasn't there, but please use reason, please understand that the music has to be something everyone can listen to, pepp music, with heavy bass that makes the whole flak come alive. Anyway, I will not rest on this matter either, so let's move on.

I am still confused and I don't believe this will be resolved anytime soon. As with all things, it will be left in silence and thus just fade into the night...