I have a hole in my chest

Fallen promises and broken dreams, it all makes me weary and empty.
If I could weave a seamless seam then I would be complete.
I didn't even know I wanted you so badly, until I knew that you didn't.
The forbidden fruit is bittersweet, and still mouthwatering. And still haunting.

How one can be so consumed by concern for ones own well-being amazes me, time and again. If there is not a problem, we will invent one, if there is not lust, then we will pry anyway.

Even though I am being rational, logical, a sane type of being, it still hurts, this inexplicable wound that appeared out of nowhere, where I thought no wound would ever fit again. I have harmed myself again, and all because I imagined a different life, if not for living, then for dreaming. But no more, all is broken now. No more dreaming for me. As if I could decide. How could I possibly change two years of dreams on a whim of sudden determination? No, it will not work. And maybe I don't want it to. Maybe I want to wallow in the pain for a while, to remember, to be myself again.

How do you hurt quietly?

I wish I could be certain, that you aren't telling lies. My heart tells me you are, your words tell me no. And I don't want to accuse you, of anything. You accuse yourself too much. I wish I could help you, and myself, but I guess I have to choose.

In the happyland

I have been sick for nearly a week. Swine-flew comes to mind and it is a frightening thought, I dare say. Although, all symptoms can be any other concern as well, as it turns out, greater things truly are to come.

There are points in your life when all come to an edge. Either this, or that. Decide. All things are opposed and the true colours reveal themselves. Call it fate if you will, these occurences that make you re-evaluate your life and priorities. The fears you thought you had are replaced by more massive ones and your childhood nightmares are crushed by their magnitude. I am still not sure if I am living my dream.

Choices. My heart tells me one, my mind another, and my body a third. I am scared of the future, cause it is so far blank. The abscence of everything concrete scares me. So does the existence without the abstract. I need to create my own dream, in order to live it. Not rely on half-thought-through-decisions and maybes. My dream will not trip on me, nor I on it. It won't exist if I don't create it, it won't exist if I don't create.

I need to not forget what I am, and what that entails. What I want from life can so easily be stolen, what I dream can so easily be forgotten. I must not forget who I used to be.

"If loving you's a dream, that's not worth having, then why do I dream of you?"

I have been wasting my life, for so many years. It seems.
But I don't look at it as wasted time, I look at is as experiences that are unique and they've built up the me that I am today. Anyone would say I haven't accomplished much, by some mystical standards that nobody put up, yet everyone follows.
I haven't gotten a degree, I haven't traveled, I have no children, I don't even have a permanent job. Everything so far that I have tried on, I have done halfways.

But then I think, I am young still. I am 25yo, I just got married. I have finished a book that I was writing on for 8years. I've been a vegetarian for 9years, I am surrounded by friends and family. I have succeeded at life! In its purest form, cause I have, so far, done whatever I wanted. I have lived the life that small children dream of having when they grow up. I have stayed up late, eating in my bed, having candy for breakfest and told off anyone who didn't like what I was doing and stood up for what I knew in my heart was right. I am not ashamed of the years I've spent sleeping 12 hours a day. Those are the years that I needed to find myself, what I want to do and with whom. Still I can not be sure, and sometimes I curse myself for bad choices and the everyday life that eventually comes. But I regret nothing. Sometimes, I do feel ashamed for myself. Sometimes I do feel "like a dream that's not worth having." And those are the times my mind goes haywire and I don't know at all what is right and wrong and I want to do the craziest things. Mostly, cause I get trapped. And maybe, because I am scared. Cause I got a good thing going now, and most good things in the past I have destroyed.

Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Staffroom, int. scene 1. take 1million.
Angelica is situated at the end of the table, by the circling line of it's design, facing towards the kiosk. As usual. Some more co-workers sit down. Someone mentions a program they've seen, as usual. Everyone gathers in conventional chit-chat. This chit-chat almost always takes a turn down Hate-lane and by Prejudice-creek and furthers down the boulevard of Self-rightousness. It always starts with the news, or a tv-show, or any media that has discussed injustices in our society, criminals set loose and the inadequity of the Swedish policeforce. Cause all we really want is to see cops on the streets so that if someone, god forbid would steal a bike they would snatch them and throw them in the fiery ovens of justice once and for all!

You can see my sarcasm, I hope.

To me, this whole idea of putting criminals in prison and throwing away the key is putting another plaster on a plaster... and then a bandaid on the plaster. Instead of taking a real look at the wound and see if it needs cleaning, stitches, or maybe just a mothers kiss to make it all better. I don't believe in evil. Therefore I cannot in my mind justify the usage of punishment in any way. I believe that there is a thing called speciesconnection, that all species feel a certain connection with individuals of the same species and a connection that they can not deny. Any person who violates this instinctive feeling of responisibility towards a fellow specimen, must have some sort of defect. Medical or psychological. People who kill people, hit their wives, molest children, are sick. And should be treated, not preserved in a prison cell. People who steal for the sake of surviving, should be unpunished. People who steal just to get more money than they already have should pay back and apologize. This may all sound naive, but if we punish people like we do, or even worse in the future, there will be an endless spiral of rage, hate and revenge that will in the end annihilate the lot of human kind.

I will get back to discussion later on, trust me.

Art imitating life imitating art imitating life imitating art

Oversize is the best thing that happened to the fashion industry since shoulderpads went off the market. If done correctly it can truly be a "one size fits all" - because it isn't anyone's size! I find fashion, interior design, or any kind of visual art that depends on trends to be fascinating. Not because I follow them slavelike, but because everyone else does. It is amazing how the world of media can glorify anything how stupid or grand, and we will love it if we're supposed to.

The human mind does not only play tricks on us, it is also very easy to trick.

I could have chosen a number of different career paths but instead I chose none. I am very interested in a lot of things, different areas of knowledge, and I have this strange belief that I could be good at anything if I just want to. But unlike R.Kelly I don't believe I can fly. Even my huge ego has boundaries within a reasonable frame, based on the laws of physics etc... Although a certain book tells me that I could walk on water, was my beliefs strong enough. Maybe 'tis true. I wont try to find out, God need not amuse me to earn my trust.

Anyway. This has probably both been the deepest - and the shallowest of all my posts so far. Enjoy!

"Have yourself a merry little christmas"

The only thing that makes me truly happy is christmas music.
It is sad and naive but true. The old classic melodies, I just can't get enough. It gives me such a grand sensation of security and happiness, much like when I was little, christmas truly was the happiest time of the year. Not that the other days of the years was so bad, but at christmas it was like we had a silent agreement that everyone were to behave and be jolly, and we were! I can only remember one christmas so far that we didn't gather around the table, stuffing our faces with nothing but smiles. To me, as a child, this was a miracle. For a day we didn't pretend nothing, we were and we were happy.

Christmas will never be the same again, and as so many other things once lost cannot be reclaimed. It makes me sad, and I listen now to the songs of old and remember and smile with melancholy. Had it not been for that melancholy I could have, to an inch, replicated the same amount of happiness I used to have.

Cogito ergo sum

Ego. About justification.
One can do the most horrible things to people, even the ones you love. The feeling of guilt is irrelevant, we all know that it is coming to bite us in the ass some day and we will swear that if we could do anything different, if we could travel back in time, take back those words, change everything, we would. But the the gut awful truth is that we would do it all again. The reason for making mistakes is not because we don't know about retribution, it's because we simply don't care. Thinking that whatever we do, it'll be worth it in the end. And because the human being as an entity is selfish. We should strive not to be, but we can not deny that we are and that most of our deciscions spur from this great sense of ego that we have.

Enough about that.

It is horrible to go sleep in the middle of the day, you simply won't be the same when you wake. The brain feels like mosh, it's dark outside and you feel like you went to sleep in your own bed and woke up in the twilight zone.

"Frankly my dear, I don't give damn."

One's mind is a dreadful place. Filled with filth and surreal dreams. Everything is out of focus and all thoughts blur into each other in a neverending maze. I try to find the thread, start unfolding the yarn and end up with loose ends. My mind plays tricks on me.

I try to remain concentrated, to be dedicated, and yet always I end up playing stupid internetgames where you're supposed to switch jewels around in order to make them disappear. Half my life has been wasted on these needless games when they could have been spent writing, painting, helping, comforting... The need to be numbed though, is greater than any claim to greatness. And by greatness I mean in the Jesus-way, not the Stalin-way.

Why do we only live for friday/saturday night when the other days of the week are so many more?

Instead of a show

There can be no action without intent. The intent however may or may not be as profound as one would wish. Sometimes there truly are no particular reason for anything, and we shouldn't read profound intent into actions where there are none. We have to realise that sometimes people are just people.

But. This is not how we should live. For we must also realise that every action, every word, even thought, has a cause. We must live on the edge, constantly vary, constantly afraid of doing wrong. If we are not then the errors we cannot explain or undo occurr. We have to be vigilant and suspicious, even of ourselves and our sense of morality. We cannot relax, not even for a second, and we have to question everything...

... but we also have to live, and love, and care. One thing that's the ultimate truth of all truths is that love is never wrong. If we base all our choices on this foundation then no harm will ever come. The only way for harm to come in our way is when someone breaks the chain of endearment.

Sometimes I believe that there can be no light without the darkness, not in this world. But I still hope, and wish, for a world where this would work out, for everyone.

"I invoke the right of parley!"

In my line of work I speak to people whom I don't know and never will. Daily I listen to their fragile voices over the phone telling their live's stories. Some begging for understanding, some for their own amusement it may seem. I speak to people who've lost everything, and some who are not willing to lose anything. People grasp to their belongings or are thankful for the tiny amount they have to pay as "gratitude" for being alive. The point in my telling this is that some have nothing. Literally nothing.

It often raises the question of the value of human life. "We are all born equal in rights and opportunities" it is said. Yet, why do we end up so differently? What is it that give some people everything and others nothing? And why should it even matter? If we are all equal in value, then why do we not treat each other this way?

The value of a human life today is not based on some predestined form of measurement that we all fullfill just being born. It is based on achievements. For instance, the bum on the street is replaceable but the doctor in the O.R. is not. Because one accomplishes and the other does not. Regardless of the personal history, general opinion or predestined value, one is "worth" more than the other in the eye of society. Thus, we are all hypocrits.

I like to think that whenever I can make a difference, whenever people lay their lives in my hands, that I do all I can to make that difference. But I don't, and the only thing I can say for myself is that at least it makes me feel bad.

Tainted love

I have tried so hard to not be judgmental or prejudical, even so to the very brink of imagining myself in a childmolesters shoes. And what I have come to realise is that man has an amazing ability to justify his actions to himself. Even Hitler had, in his mind, good reasons to do what he thought best. In one's mind sacrifices must be made for the greater good, it's only logical, and in someone else's, one's own pleasure couldn't possibly be inflicting harm upon another. Each reason is as true as the other. To the person with this belief.

If one start to think this way, it becomes clear that the notion of evil as being pure and naturally occurring is discarded. A person who justifies his/her doings in a way that is obvious to himself/herself cannot be evil, merely delusional. But evil as a state of being, as a de facto entity, simply can not exist.

Now hate, on the other hand, that's a horse of a different colour. Hate is a good enough reason for doing anything, as is love. And here, as well, the notions are very subjective. What drives a person to act out of love, might affect another as an act of hate. The intent though, is pure and true to the owner of this intent.

I dream of love being the sole intent in the world, that it could be the spring from which all actions draw their energy and to which all ends carry us to drown in.
I wrote a book about love, without realising that hatred is the force which drives us today.
And it's sad that we think we have so much to hate when we've been wronged so little. Seldom do you meet a person that has suffered enough to have the right to hate, and even so, hate does not come on it's own. Love comes first, and love, when tainted, turns to darkness and dig the hole inside us. 'Cause what is hate if not a twisted kind of love?

"L, do you know, Death Gods only eat apples?"

The undescribable feeling of going nowhere. The endless endless endless... My God, the endless?

If you don't know I hate fruit you don't know the first thing about me. Not because of the biblical sense but because I do. It defines me... in a way. And still, it says nothing about me. A fruit by any other name would still be as... as it is to me.

The worst thing about being like this, like this huge humungus pile of flesh that I am is that it is only I that suffer from the consequences of my being like this. Because it's only I that know the truth about me, about the essential me. Sometimes it's like being trapped under water. I shout and those who are under the water with me can hear me shout but never what it is that I am shouting.

Now you may think, ah, teenage angst! No. Been there, done that. The cruel part is that adolescence never ends. The insecurity, the constant wondering about worth, about value and self-consciousness - it never ends. What adults have learned are to suppress the emotions and hormons good enough to last a lifetime. Still any type of trauma can rip open the seams we so carefully sow, in a way, to preserve, but mostly to keep the teenager from getting out into the open. It takes one word, on sorrowful reminder, and then you are in childhood home again, in your childhood room, growing out of it, pushing the walls around you, knowing that they are too tight. Knowing, with melancholy, that you have to leave this place.

It is the tale of the womb.
We all remember a dark place that was before we were. That is why sleep lullys us to rest with it's false promises of eternity as it was in a backward way before we were born. It is easier to think of it this way, as an eternity already passed, rather than as an eternity about to happen, when we die. I think it is within our being to long for a state that has been, since this is where our safety is, in the knowledge of what has happened. This is a fact to us, to oftenly declared a truth. But this is how we see the world. How else could we?