Me

I´m not defining myself through love,

I know I´m enough on my own

I only wish I could forward this affection

Towards my neglected self

Instead of everyone else.

 

I´m so tired, oh so tired

Won´t you hold me for a while

Don´t say a word,

Just let me have a sigh on your shoulder

The silent kind,

The one that doesn´t change a thing,

But leaves you hollow.

 

January 2016

 

 

 

 

Like you love me

Kiss me like you love me

Is my favourite line nowadays

It works, but then it doesn´t.

 

I want you to see me for my soul

Not this pretty shell

Love my nakedness, baby

I don´t want to grow a skin.

 

I should learn how to be by myself

Shouldn´t be hard

I kind of like being alone

It´s just me I´m not sure that I like.

 

January 2016

 

 

In-betweens

I just read somewhere about in-betweens. The time in between these few moments of bliss that our life is made of- love, a smile from a stranger, a walk in the park, a sunny day, a cup of good coffee, a dog licking my face, the newspaper outside the door first thing in the morning. The person said she had a difficult time dealing with the in-betweens. Who doesn´t? I have, too.

I don´t know what to make of them. I don´t know how to let time pass without panicking like it´s my last second on this planet. I don´t know how not to live fast or just sleep it all away. I don´t know how to act like a normal person. I don´t even know what normal is, because to me I´m normal, it´s all the others who are strange.

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When I sleep

These days, my favourite time of the day is when I´m not awake. It´s when I don´t feel a thing, or at least I don´t know that I do. I sleep with my head under the covers, so as not to let the cold slip in.

The snow has managed to put a lid on my emotions and I feel passive and tired yet again. In a way it´s preferable to this tornado of sentiments that I don´t know what to do with anyways. Let it be sleep. I could sleep for a couple of months. Just let things slide by.

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Rome on my mind

Back home to a frozen Oslo and minus 18, I can´t help but wishing I lived somewhere else entirely. I woke up this morning and had to literally race to the kitchen to make the fire, or else I wouldn´t be able to walk around without the duvet wrapped around me.

Anyways. Back to Rome. What a city! Maybe this is the way to see it, after all, not chase after experiences, like I probably did last time, but let go of all expectations and see where it takes you, what it has in store for you. I love being able to walk around with hasty steps, like I have a purpose, music in my ears, let my eyes linger on a building, smile at the sight of a balcony overgrown with plants, reminisce something from another lifetime, then suppress it with the reluctance of swallowing cough syrup.

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On my own

I´ve cooled down a bit, or so it seems. I´m able to be by myself without feeling like throwing myself out of the window in desperation, I´m making the fire, washing my clothes and preparing some sort of dinner, too. Who knew it´d be that hard to do what I´ve been doing for ages, just because I´m on my own now?

I´ve been so sociable lately that I´m right out exhausted. I just want to listen to music by my furry boys, write until I have no more words coming out and then go to sleep. I´ve started being able to fall asleep by myself again, without sleeping pills, that is. I still wake up in the middle of the night, though, and only sleep for 5-6 hours, but it´s a step forward.

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A weekend in Rome

Hand on my heart, this trip was the best holiday I´ve ever had! 😉 It wouldn´t have turned out this great if I´d planned it in detail, in fact, the surprise element is exactly what made it so good. It was all about the senses- good food, good drink, new experiences, furry friends and effortless conversation.

I´ve done so many things for the first time this weekend, you have no idea! 😉 Like riding a motorbike in a guy´s jacket, with a guy´s eye shades, mascara running black down my face and my smile stone-still from the cold, painted red on my face. I´ve “fed” stones to swans, had the best hot chocolate in my entire life in Anguillara, a small town by the coast an hour away from Rome, climbed a “mountain” in high heels and ate proper Italian linguine and clams in a proper Italian home.

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