Writings

Writings

Fall. In. Love. Again. and. Again


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I fell in love three days ago when we sat in the bed of a friend, surrounded by friends, and we made jokes that no one else gets
This morning you walked into the bathroom as a bearded man
When you came out you had shed your beard
I on the other hand, shed nothing
I only layered up with love,
I fell,
for you
again

I’ve known that love, that overused word, becomes stronger over time
I feel it for friends every time I meet them
I fall in love with them
It’s the self-explanatory kind of love,
the one that tells me that whatever evil you, my friend, might do to me,
I’ll always love you

With you on the other hand
When I fall, over
and
over
stronger
and stronger

It’s not with certainty
It comes in shockwaves
As if you baffle me with your sheer existence,
and you’re standing there, open to my loving you
Who am I then to not be completely absorbed
To not take my chance on falling
in
love
again
When it’s the greatest experience of them all

The difference is that whatever evil you might do to me
I won’t always love you
I won’t forgive

Perhaps that’s the reason to why I let myself lean in into what is us
Because I know that it’s not for certain
So I take my chances with braveity
For it’s the only way I will know
that whatever pain might come my way because of you
at least I loved whole-heartedly, with every piece of me
and when one has done that
there are no regrets
no wrong-doings
nothing that could have been done differently

Daily, Writings

Little Miss Fuck-Up


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Yesterday I went out bowling and got drunk instead of studying. Today my wrist is hurting from the bowling balls, guess that’s the price you have to pay when you’re the winner 😉

I try to let go of control, an attempt to not live up to the “Little Miss Perfect” – ideal. I don’t do my chores as I should, I try to take life not so seriously because it usually leaves me in a position where I feel stressed out for no reason. I’m fighting the “have to’s and should do’s” with a more laidback me, but this results in me feeling out of control and a lack of self-esteem because “I can’t seem to do anything right nor good”. I know it’s good for me to let go, but the struggle to feel fine in letting go is perhaps more difficult than being in control.

It’s as if though I’m rummaging through my life e v e r y day, turning it inside out in an attempt to figure… well… something out. Is it possible to be a teenager twice? Because my mind cuts me no slack what so ever these days. It’s as if I’ve thought so hard for so long that it’s now wired to analyze everything that happens to cross my path.

Internal battles without a commander in chief are not fruitful at all. Perhaps I just have to woman-up and stop questioning myself so damn much and instead be a proud boss who knows it’s employee sometimes fails and that is o k e y. 

 

Writings

Free-writing my way to freedom


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I’m in a room on Gotland in a beautiful summer house. There are five new, for me, people sleeping in the other rooms. They’re my team-mates on this shortfilm-shoot. Yesterday I rode for four hours straight and I felt empowered and free sitting on the horse Irina. My co-actress and I roamed the fields, cantered, trotted and flung ourselves down over the horses when they steered us into low-hanging branches.

I’ve been living with a tiny nervous-knot in my tummy for a while and I can’t figure out why. It’s a feeling of stress that might come from conflicting thoughts. Because in my mind I feel like a stray dog, going everywhere, going nowhere, going places. Thinking of every possible outcome of my decisions, contemplating on what I can do differently, am I doing enough? What more can I do? Am I missing something?
Yet I’m more tied down than every with an apartment, bonds to pay, living with my partner, running a company etc.

Life feels intrusive, or rather, I feel life a lot. Everything that happens makes my mind spiral into a cave of thoughts regarding what happened. It’s exhausting. Instead of simply existing and having fun I’m constantly drawn deeper into my internal state of mind, scrutinizing every moment of an event.

When a child grows, their brains create thousands of superfluous synapses, which they later shed. And I feel like that, as if my mind is shedding and transitioning, adapting and making sense of my “new” life.

Over-thinking is the theme for my past months. “Stop over-thinking”. I hear it so many times, I even tell my friends that. Maybe there is danger to over-thinking, especially if you’re wired in a self-destructive way, then the thoughts can bring one down completely. But on the other side of the coin, I believe over-thinking can do good. It’s a way of making sense of ones world and when one topic is turned inside out and thought of from all perspectives, then it’s done right? No need to think about it any more.
Therefore I let go, I write and trust the process. The flaring thoughts will subside sooner or later and a lighter version of a mind will protrude.
Just like when the spring-buds arrive and I can sense nature taking a deep breath of relief, that’s the liberation I’m yearning for.

As of now I solely feel like a prisoner in my own mind. There are too many thoughts in a tiny space and all the superfluous ones opress the new thoughts that are down there somewhere. I haven’t had any new ideas in a long time and that is usually a reaction to me not being well.
My body is reacting too, my heart beats like a woodpecker pecks, and if my thoughts are the woodpecker, I want to shoot the woodpecker.

An example of how the woodpecker works, take my headline that I just re-read:
“But what is freedom?” “Is it being allowing to ones thoughts and emotions and not putting any further value to them?” “Is it the privilege of being able to contemplate?” “Is it having a progressive government?”

I guess my kind of freedom is the one where I simply act and is reacted upon without questioning myself and not letting other’s questioning concern me. 

Photos, stories, Writings

Stockholm Charades


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Summer flies to foreign countries

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the spirits of autumn settle in

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People, kissed by a healing wind

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waiting for the harsh winter to begin

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as the sun enters hibernation

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Swedes work on their winter accusations

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but in their minds live warm memories of Summer
fragments that will keep them together

stories, Writings

Human-waste


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A man on the subway
Sunken cheeks, skinny bones,
White tufts of hair on his head
Blue, coming on grey, eyes
Carved roads on his forehead –
marks from all the times he’s reacted to something
Laughinkles next to his eyes
and I see
I see his stories playing before his eyes
a life lived
stories to be told
Veins in the color of the ocean run over his hands
as if each and everyone of them resembles a decision
I start talking to him
but he can’t hear me
he waves with his fragile hand over his ears
showing me he’s unable
It bothers me to the extent that I become teary-eyed
For here is another human with wisdom and stories that I won’t take part of,
nor will the world
How much human-waste is there in the world?
How many learnings and wisdom is buried with their owners?

stories, Writings

Leaking Love


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I am leaking love
it’s in my footprints
Smudging it into the wooden floors when I walk
It’s invisible only to you
You struggle your way out of bed
you put your feet down on it
For every step you take now,
I’ll be hurting
I say a sweet goodmorning
You smile in response
While you head off for your morning routine
you stomp around
I’m leaking
I give you a compliment under teary eyes
Visible even to you
Not that you take notice
You smile and tell me you love me
a habit, not the truth
You walk out the door
headed to wherever my love has not leaked
Only there are you free

Daily, Writings

He moved in


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I wake up and feel his arms around me, as I have countless of times. I push his arms harder around me because my drowsy head tells me to embrace the moment – he will go home soon and you won’t see each other till Wednesday.
Then it dawns on me, I’ll see him tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and the next morning… and so it goes, for he moved in with me yesterday. I’m filled with a deep warm sensation of comfort and happiness.
Coming from a family of five and used to having people around, the single-household can feel lonely from time to time and I’m tired of it.
We’ve gotten the question (mainly from the older generations): Well, will you both fit in there?
My apartment is 36sqm and it has a seperate bedroom, I can’t help but think how utterly privileged we are only to be able to ask that question. Of course we’ll both have room.
I don’t want to take part in increasing Sweden’s number of single households (we’ve the highest ranking in the world). Because it’s the saddest thing I’ve heard about my country. Therefore, if I have the chance to live with someone (a very special someone), then I’ll take it. Living together is much more fun than living alone.