A little change of heart,

love that’s set apart.

Your heart betrayed,

your hopes all swayed.

My love like steel,

at least you’re real.

Can’t fake your smile,

so to make you cry.

No friend of mine,

your time to shine.

I ask you: why?

But you just smile.

Just some poem about the closeness of hate and love.

I feel like there are no two emotions that are so entwined. Every other emotion, I feel, is something in between those two, they sum up our heart. We hate, we love.

And sometimes we do both.


Brainless – or how I feel sometimes.

Well, it’s been a while since I have written on this blog. Or written in general, really, I had a bit of a tough year, nothing too serious, just my usual existential crisis.

I have noticed, though, that writing about what you feel makes it more prominent and through that you learn to face it and when you have learnt to face what you feel, you start to understand it. I don’t think I am there, yet, but I am getting there.

One thing, however, I feel, I face but do not understand at all. I don’t know if you will know what I mean but I am doing my best, describing it, here.

So, sometimes I feel brainless. Like my brain just shuts off for a while and let’s my heart take charge, I am not talking about stupid decisions, although I am not too bad at those either, but I am talking about the feeling I get when my friends and I spent time together laughing or when people I love tell me they’ll come around spontaneously. I get that weird, happy feeling, the one that makes you feel all giddy.

It’s been one of those days, today, on which I had that exact feeling. I was around my friends a lot today and when I was driving home, I just felt like everything was falling into place, like I had found my paradise, while I wasn’t even aware of my need for one!

In those moments I know that I am happier than in others, but when those moments are over I forget what is lacking. So I feel like my brain is not really there to experience it, the ultimate happiness, because if it was, it would surely remember how to get there, wouldn’t it?

Just some thoughts I had driving and singing, well let’s be honest, screeching “All I Want For Christmas”.

A good writer.

You don’t learn much from tv-shows, at least I haven’t found one which holds the ultimate secret of life.

But if there is one thing I ever found truly inspiring on a tv show then it is the advice her creative writing teacher gives Jenna in ‘awkward’. He honestly seems to be an arsehole but what he tries to teach his class is amazing.

Compared to my creative writing teacher, who only ever talks about his lonely life and how he never found a woman to marry, he gives the impression to know so much about everything and I have so much respect for that character.

One thing he said made me reconsider everything I ever wrote… He told his class that they are not good writers until they wrote about something very personal and let the reader feel what they felt. To be honest it wasn’t a nice feeling at first, feeling like everything I wrote had gone to waste. But then I thought about it and one thought changed my mind completely. Just because I didn’t do it before, doesn’t mean I can’t do it now and when I did it I am officially a good writer.

Too bad that in the next episode he told Jenna that it still wasn’t enough and that she needed to read it out loud to a crowd of people. I then decided to not take every advice of his too seriously.

Honestly I wasn’t going to read out a text about how I feel to people in this little town I live in, considering how that was going to ruin my life… forever.

So that was how I rethought my obsession with doing whatever some tv show character tells me.

I noticed.

You were a god for me and gods do no wrong, in my mind it all seemed so real.

It took me so long to realise that not everything I do is wrong and not everything you do is right.


When I first met him I was much younger, he was my first crush when I was a stupid little kid. And all of this time he had a special place in my heart, without speaking just one word to me. Because those people just do, all the ‘firsts’ you have that are connected to people do.

So when we actually became friends it was special and the better friends we became, the more I was depending on him. The first thought every day would be “If I do that, would he mind?”.

It was bad, it is always bad to depend on someone more than yourself. Being yourself and making yourself happy is supposed to be the most important thing. Everyone is egoistic, just no one likes to be called an egoist.

I did realise that and I tried my best to become independend again. It is not easy, depending on somebody for a long time and then starting to be on your own again.

But today I am proud to say that, yes, I did work things out and we are indeed still friends. Friends are important but no one is as important as yourself.

If you ever think about doing something to impress anyone, don’t!

Home late last night…

And I came home late last night, but it could be worse.

My heart still beats and my feet still work.

There was a light shining down and it wasn’t the moon.

What if secretly it was you?

________ _______________

I was on my way to the busstation when I remembered that I needed to run to the shops again because I needed new shoes. So I went back and made my way to my favourite shoe shop.

After I spent about one hour looking at all the shoes in the shop, men shoes included I don’t know why though, I went out of the shop without new shoes.

So I made my way to another shoe shop, I have never bought anything in that shop but I thought I could try.

I didn’t find any.

So I, deeply frustrated, made my way to the busstop again and waited for my bus to arrive.

Only, I had spent so much time looking for shoes that the last bus to the little village I live in was already gone.

After I noticed the unfortunate turn the evening took (no new shoes and missed the last bus) I got out my headphones and started to listen to my ultimate ‘sad-moment’ playlist.

(Tbh it’s basically just Halseys ‘Badlands’)

I then started to walk in the direction of said little village. Until I came along a very nice looking little shop and I couldn’t resist but go in.

When I came out, again not very happy because the shop wasn’t half as nice as it looked from the outside, it was already completely dark. I was never very keen on walking home alone, but as soon as it’s dark it isn’t that bad anymore.

That does sound utterly stupid, I admit. But I love to walk around when it’s dark, even though I, of course, know that it is very dangerous.

That was, however, what got me walking home with a stupid smile plastered on my face and the feeling that even if a day goes terribely wrong, something will light your mood and you will be happy.

In the end you will be happy.

Why does thinking get easier with music? 

Often have I sat in front of a blank sheet, not even able to write one word. But after putting on my headphones and turning the music on, my brain seemed to finally connect the dots and I wrote. 

I have wondered why that is, quite often and today I found myself in the same situation. 

The music needs to be on the highest volume, so that I can’t  hear anything else. Why is that?

There are many possibilities, finally I decided to settle on the idea of my emotions connecting with the music, which leads to me connecting with what I’m writing. 

Not only is that the only idea which makes sense to me, but it is also the most beautiful one. 

Too late.

I guess I didn’t know where to run to. So I sat and waited for someone to arrive.

Now everyone is gone but I’m still here, waiting for someone to arrive.

Is it too late? Or am I just in time?

My mind keeps playing the same old song and my feet don’t seem to work. So I’m sitting here, alone till the end. Quietly singing our melody.


I’m waiting for someone right now, that’s how I got the idea to write that. I know that waiting for that person doesn’t make sense, since I know he won’t come.

But somehow I can’t stop secrectly hoping that he will. It’s strange, because I know that he won’t but my heart simply doesn’t want to stop.

Why does one always wait to be disappointed?








There is a feeling for which there is no word. A feeling that something or someone is gone even though they are still there. 

It’s when you know that something or someone has changed or become a different thing or person, but it is still there. 

I know this feeling. It is a mix between confusion and sadness, grief and hope. That feeling is changing you and the way you look at things. 

There is no word. 

Short story, inspired by a stranger 

Person I saw: young man, seemed really happy and listen to music over earphones

When I walked out of the house today, the first thing I did was step into a big puddle of watery mud. It was raining pretty bad and the sky was covered in different shades of grey. 
I was silently cursing, because I was already quite late for work and I had to change into another pair of pants then.

After having changed as fast as humanly possible, I went to the busstop to take the next bus to town. 
On the bus every single seat was taken so I had to stand, I almost fell over as the bus stopped abrubtly because of a silly little child that obviously didn’t know getting run over by a bus would hurt.

When I finally arrived at work the first thing to do was going to my bosses office. He made quite the scene and I thought he would fire me, he did not though.

Work was alright, my clients were rather easy to handle and the majority of the time I actually enjoyed my job. It isn’t that well payed although it is quite the work, but on some days I just really enjoy it.

After work I decided to take a walk at the river that flows through our city, sometimes it was relaxing to just go there by yourself and listen to some music. It was really calming me down.

I was sitting on a bench when my phone vibrated in my pocket and I looked who texted me. 
As soon as read the message a smile took place on my face. It was just one of my friends asking me if I wanted to ‘hang out’ tomorrow, but I looked at the river in front of me and everything just felt right.

Even though I had an awful day, I was happy and smiling seemed to be the only thing that I was able to do.

Short story, inspired by a stranger

I saw that woman today who was walking through the city pretty late at night, wearing a short skirt and a coat. She looked as if she was trying to be happy, but everything just felt so sad.

So I wrote this:

Another day wasted. Another day without feeling a thing.

She walks down the street, looking at the already closed shops, wondering why she can’t feel happy or sad, for that matter.

She just wants to feel anything, nothing helps. In the beginning, she had always found ways to at least feel pain but nothing lasted for long. The only thing that she feels sometimes is desire, the desire to end everything.

She sold her body to strange men and let people abuse her, just to get a slight idea of what pain was.

Now she is lonely and numb and the clicking of her heels is the only sound surrounding her.

She doesn’t know what led her to this, she doesn’t know anything to be exact. She is helpless.

Because there is no saving from something that lies deep within you. There is no dreaming when you don’t sleep.

She reaches her small flat, taking of her shoes and lying down fully clothed. Falling asleep on the thought of a better tomorrow, because there is no changing when you always choose the same path.