Tuesday, June 23, 2015

I am in control

I dont eat, not at all, I refuse to eat.
I am just not hungry.
I don't want the food.
Not now, not ever...

I just want to run away

Nothing is fair in the world, I have this feeling that I've failed everything
That the world is coming down crashing on me, that I can only get the second best. 

My city...

When I was born my city was different from what it is now, still it was very much the same. It lies between the salt and the sweet water and there is a lock in the middle of the city where you could look at boats crossing from the lake to the Baltic Sea. My parents had a boat, so I was never one of the people peering down on the boat people. I was always a person peering up when the water under us were going up or down, depending on if we were leaving or coming back to the city.
My city is islands and bridges, old and new buildings lining the water, the water is clean and as a young adult we would dance the night away (well until 3 am when the bars HAD to close) and then we would stumble into the lake. We would throw our clothes off and then throw our naked sweaty bodies into the lake in the light summer night. The cold water would clear our minds and prepare us for the walk back home, hand in hand. 


The summers of my city are short and light, the typical sign of being the in the North, so we celebrate the light. Intense summers fueling us to live through the dark winter that is only lit up by the heavy snow, that will cover the everything, cover the square castle where the king actually doesn’t live. Snow will cover our city hall, with its high tower topped with the three crowns that the rest of the world recognizes on our national hockey teams jerseys.  It’s dark, and when the snow doesn’t fall, the years it’s late and global warming has a grip on us, we are stuck in darkness that hoovers over us. We hide in our apartments away from the world, our white walled apartment’s furniture with IKEA staples and vintage eclectic style, maybe a wall of color, orchids in the bay windows and a large TV, a flat one. 


My city is green in the summer, it has parks and it is surrounded by pockets of forest and to the east the famous archipelago spreads out, reaching towards Finland. From the heart of the city white ferries leaves every day to take people out to the islands, the people without their own boats. Packed up with packed lunches and camping gear they head out from the city and return with the same boat, same day or another.
I love those islands; I and two French friends spent an epic day a few years back on one of those islands, a brother and a sister. It was a summer when my heart was sad and I held myself close to both of them, the brother held me in his arms and we ran along the shoreline, with the smell of kelp and it reminded me of my childhood. The granite rounded after the last ice age, it smelled of warm stone and noting but patches of grass grows right there next to the sea.  In the woods under the tall pine trees we found blueberries and our hands were stained purple and so were our mouths when we kissed.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

How do you love somone so much?

I don't know how i love someone so much

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Jay and Juanita

Jay and Juanita

They met in a whirlpool of feelings, it might have been drugs involved, maybe some cheap champagne, and most of all, they didn’t know better. He smiled at her, often, and she liked it, it made her feel important, he laughed at her jokes when they walked down the street. She never asked him any of the important questions, because she didn’t want him to get the answers right. When he asked her to marry him, she said yes, even if she wasn’t sure what his last name was. Did she care much, probably not, because if she cared, it might actually have been love, and she wasn’t sure if that was what she was looking for. She felt good in his arms, and she didn’t want to push her luck, so when he casually said “we should get married” she looked him right back in the eyes and said “YES”
As a child she had big thoughts  about how she wanted her wedding to be, she wanted the dress to be a dream, she wanted to be a princess. But now when she was about to walk down the aisle with that boy who smiled at her, it didn’t feel so important no more. What felt important was that he kissed her goodnight and ran his fingers through her hair. What was important was that he didn’t care when she cried over nothing. She didn’t care at all, so one day she woke up, covered in cheap pink champagne, her dress was pink, even if she could have sworn it was white the night before. She had a faint memory of Elvis, she looked at the ring on her finger. She wasn’t about to ask him where he had gotten it, she knew she might not like the answer. She looked at him sleeping, and giggled at all the single bills on the floor. Going to Vegas was so cliché, having Elvis officiating the ceremony even worse, well he had spoken only Korean, so she wasn’t 100% sure that they actually were married. Either way, her head hurt and Jay was sleeping next to her.

He loved the city, she could understand the love, she could also feel the heartbeat of the city, the promises that so many times turned into disappointments, the buzz of the city fascinated her and she chased the dragon in many ways before she met Jay.

Jay woke up before her, looked at her slender body in the champagne stained dress. He did know that she was probably not forever, he didn’t believe in eternity he didn’t believe in much to be fair. When he had ran into her at a café in SF a few weeks ago he was mesmerized, she laughed and talked and he couldn’t be anything but happy to just be close to her. He didn’t know much about her, except that sometimes she would cry in his arms, the first time it happened he thought he had done something wrong, and maybe he had. He never really understood why she cried, but she always seemed like she could return to herself, whatever that was, after crying in his arms. He had asked her to marry him when they were drunk in a bar, and to his surprise she had said yes. It all seemed so appropriate, to be together. The unexpected was so often the expected, his friends thought he was crazy, and he probably was. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

slowly I might get over it

maybe
maybe

Friday, May 8, 2015

I hate how I do this

I miss you, the closeness, the mornings

but it is for the best