078;
She spills the coffee grounds
And the same thought hits her like cinder block
Life's an odd job that she don't got the nerve to quit"
077;
075;
Even years after disaster struck
I still sleep with my phone on.
I keep waiting for the call to come in,
somehow, in its own twisted way
it is reassuring,
meaning that even after the worst thing
that could happen has happened,
there is still more to lose.
There are always disasters waiting to happen.
My phone is never turned off,
it is never left behind.
I can always be reached,
awoken from sleep,
disturbed at work -
even if it is already too late.
I will always wonder,
will alway try to find an answer
as to why you did not call me.
I would have left everything and everyone behind
for you.
That night, that man, totally meaningless-
but you,
you were my universe.
Your phone was found next to you,
so why did you not call me?
074;
it’s snowing -
& my mind is occupied with memories of you
I don’t even pretend like it’s healthy anymore
I shoved the past -
and all the hurt and anxiety and tears and sadness,
that came with it
far far far away and never looked back
it took a few years
but now it’s back -
without even as much as a knock -
the past just confidently strode in and took over
& oh my
the things I didn’t even remember
the things I successfully forgot for years
now consuming my every thought
my every dream
I wake up with your name on my lips,
can still feel the lingering touch
of your hands on my skin
it was just a dream -
I keep telling myself,
it’s not just dreams though:
it’s memories
my mind a broken player;
stuck on repeat repeat
repeat
it’s as if the past is a prison
and I’m sentenced for life
073;
072;
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I’m fine -
if I say it enough times
maybe it becomes the truth?
Let’s try it one more time:
I’m fine.
I’ve tried it before;
I love you
I love you
I love....
it never works.
I’ve asked my heart time and time again to settle,
to pick someone:
to just beat a little faster,
a little harder
whenever that someone entered the room,
but it never does.
My heart is stubborn and unwavering.
It will always be you,
no matter how many dandelion seeds blown to the wind;
no matter how many candles extinguished on birthdays cakes;
no matter how many coins thrown into fountains;
no matter how many fallen stars -
every wish whispered quietly,
& always unable to be fulfilled.
Nothing will bring you back to me.
No wishes can change
who the heart decides to beat for.
"Loving you is easy
I can do it in my sleep
I dream of you so often
It's like you never leave"
- Bright Eyes, Coyote Song
070;
Oh the longer the waiting, the sweeter the kiss
It's better my darlin', I promise you this
Next time I hold you, I'm not letting go
Will you wait for it darlin'?, I need to know
I think of you whenever I hear the song;
It makes me remember the time we danced in your kitchen:
how you held me, how I leaned in against your chest.
The song makes me remember that there was hope, at one point.
That there have been happy moments,
that I wasn’t always this sad:
once upon a time there was a grain of happiness.
Slowly, slowly moving throughout the song.
If I close my eyes,
I can almost feel how your arms held me.
The warmth.
It wasn’t love.
It’s never love;
but sometimes, even a grain of happiness is what’s needed for the time being
068;
067;
066;
064;
063;
Fotoalbum.
Familjen.
Norge sommaren 1998.
"Det måste du väl minnas?"
Nej.
"Du minns när detta togs väl?"
"När jag slutade 5:an, det står ju bredvid."
"Ja men visst minns du?"
Nej.
Alltid samma fråga.
Alltid samma svar.
Nej.
Det är så mycket fel med mig.
Hur förklarar man att jag inte ens vet hur man får hjärnan att minnas saker?
Det finns ingen play-knapp. Ingenting att spela upp.
En blank sida.
I bilen hem, jag lutar huvudet mot rutan och blundar:
försöker försöker försöker;
lyckas framkalla några trasiga fragment, genuina minnen.
Jag litar inte på minnen som finns fotograferade,
det känns som att min hjärna hittar på saker att fylla ut tomrummen med.
"Nothing else matters" i en bil på väg hem från Kungsbacka, med hjärtat fullt av ångest.
Hur jag drar ner kepsen över ögonen där jag sitter i en trappa på något behandlingshem, besökstiden är egentligen över men jag får stanna lite till. J är i köket med de andra och äter tacos och jag lyssnar på deras skratt.
Jag står iklädd ett förkläde av bly i ett röntgenrum, Pices står med hängande huvud i min famn och snarkar till då och då med sin mule mot min hand. Hans mjuka öra mot min kind och jag viskar "Du måste bli bra, du måste bli bra, du måste bli bra" med tårar i ögonen.
Idrottsdag på skolan, jag får knappt ner luft i lungorna och håller min slitna gamla Nokia i ett krampaktigt grepp, väntar på att bror ska komma och rädda mig i sin lilla vita skrothög till bil.
Jag och Loke i skogen, barbacka: mina lår mot hans mjuka päls. Han har sommarmage efter betet och får skritta på långa tyglar längs med stigen, öronen spetsade nyfiket framåt och allt omkring oss är grönt och tyst, stilla.
Mitt hår är smålockigt utav regnet och jag möter min spegelbild i hallen när jag tyst tyst tyst försöker smyga av mig skor och jacka, försöker låsa dörren så ljudlöst som möjligt. Jag ler och stryker med fingret över mina nykyssta läppar.
062;
I look at the fluorescent stars
under the shelves next to my bed:
the memories make me smile every time,
reminding me that I have friends:
it might seem silly but it’s a needed reminder,
a welcomed one.
So many years ago
my best friend put stars on the ceiling above my bed,
stars, planets and moons:
a whole universe in my tiny bedroom.
She said that it was for the bad days:
the days I struggled to get out of bed,
for the nights when the Sandman got lost in the darkness -
when sleep seemed light years away.
“Everyone need their own universe” she said
She didn’t know that she was the sun I was revolving around;
I already had my universe,
I wish I had a chance to tell her that.
A year back I had a really bad day;
the kind of day I didn’t leave bed,
eventually I called a friend &
we talked for hours and I told him
about my own fluorescent universe,
how I lost the pieces in boxes moving:
how I hoped to find them again some day.
A week later,
a small package arrived
no universe this time
just stars, pink fluorescent stars,
and a note:
“I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you put them up.
They’re for every day: not just the bad ones.
Make your own night sky.”
And I did.
I look at the fluorescent stars and they remind me of friends I have,
and the friends I had,
they make every bedroom feel like home:
they make the bad nights a little brighter,
they make the bad days a little better.
Everyone need their own universe;
it shouldn’t revolve around someone else though.
061;
He pulls my hair
I tell him harder
cause depression makes me numb and tonight,
tonight I’m tired and I want to feel something.
He pulls my hair but I said no choking:
there are rules -
at least I like to pretend that there are rules.
His other hand is moving, exploring:
set out on a mission to make me feel something, I suppose
it doesn’t matter
I feel him all tense and I say yes yes
(let’s just get it over with)
He says the name Sam over and over,
my name is not Sam but I’m used to it by now
he’s a distraction: he’s allowed to use me,
allowed to pretend I’m someone else,
someone named Sam or likewise -
full disclosure.
My turquoise heels are not as easy to walk in the morning after,
like they agree better with the tequila than my legs.
His flat is like a fleeing memory:
morning sunbeams through the window,
the checkered floor in his kitchen:
for a moment I pictured myself as the queen -
how we’d carefully play around each other:
how in the end it is always a game we play.
060;
059;
058;
Lalalalalalala
jag föll isär idag:
hundra ledsna små bitar över golvet
057;
when I'm here I see all the lives I could have lived
all that was needed was a fraction of a decision
a change of heart
a declined application
and nothing would have been what it is;
and it's difficult when you look at it that way
I've forgotten what happiness tastes like -
feels like:
I think it used to come with a soft muzzle,
a warm breath against my hair,
a friendship that passed every obstacle.
I've tried to tell myself that sometimes,
you need to break your own heart.
Sometimes you have to walk away.
I'm not so sure about that anymore.
056;
055;