At the corner of Nostalgia and Change street/

Your eyes in the rearview mirror; fixed

Jokes made for tears
hugs. home. breakfast-

not watching you sleep at night;
hearing you breathe

Offense turned into compliment

no lists; no demands
no expectations
will always come home to you

to do; not to to overanalyze

I love you

Being a douchebag helps contribute to meaning the good things.

Pulling your head out of your ass

It's just that, sometimes, it gets very tiresome.
I am trying.

But let's face it, trying and wanting to just aren't good enough.

Expensive taste

Against investing in brands
For the discovering of quality products;

Freedom, privacy
Embracing the end of the world as we know it
Courage

I am [become] a moral gray zone.
[the] destroyer of worlds

Victorious with nothing to show for it

You may know happiness better than I ever will
that's not stopping me from feeling up her girly parts
temptation embodied, twice
doors I don't hold keys to;
locks that aren't

I dare you to make this day more worth living than today.

Where did I forget my manners?

All tied up in trying to telepathically transmit information.
Impossible to hear what you're not saying in the meantime.

Stop reading, untie these knots

Dream

... was the last word I accidentally saw before posting this.
Now you know.

I should've paid attention to how many minutes I actually spent on this;
or how many times I looked through it.

i? lust these
mad
past secrets
lid
pee... p
pogo passion coke
follow
malice

see
flesh men
naked deed OS kiss
read
present tea... ase
(p)ass (c)hat
kick

hate good
suicide (s)cum

feel
made rage man
maniac

crush fool nom
talker

How it should be done; Getting home

#1 Remove shoes upon entering.

#2 Throw pants in the nearest corner.

#3 Don't bother undressing the rest of your winter clothing.

#4 Enjoy hot beverage. You've earned it.

Choices

It may be that I could do any one thing
at any given moment

only one thing
out of all those alternatives
is key here

saying yes to something, but
ultimately
saying no to everything else

This will always have been your one thing
as well as mine; at a different time, place
we will have shared the same different thing(s)
together, alone

Another person I never tried to meet

Fun fact

Your jizz is detectable in the toilet.
(not that i was looking)

Might wanna consider flushing.

Just a thought.

(un)Learning

Most of the time, school doesn't seem worth it.

Don't trust your school books.
They don't teach you that, but
they do teach you to learn by heart.

Only a severely bad learning method, if the things you've spent years memorising need to be spent unlearning after graduation day.

When learning a new language, even if the goal is to learn how to speak and write in a grammatically correct way, I see no excuse for blatantly misdefining words, even - especially - the ones of which we're already supposed to know the meaning.

If we're already assumed to know the definition, it surely isn't demanding too much of us to assume we can handle sentences elaborate enough to explain it correctly?

Really, the only way to pass the time is to participate, but even then your nightmare of a teacher constantly turns their back on you to bug the one student who hasn't even bothered buying the course book.

This one goes out to my mother who bothered investing in private teachers.
This one goes out to all my foreign teachers, who knew what they were doing, even when I had no clue.
This one goes out to all the friends, strangers, people I've never even met, who have taught me, keep teaching me and will teach me what school never can.

This one goes out to myself, who was dumb enough not to question and fight against the good life.

Feeling wealthy

I can afford to arbitrarily choose in which time zone to spend the day. No amount of money or material possessions can compare to what I have.

Hjärtan

Dear Latin teacher,
Here's some chocolate for you.
KR. The chimp's mother x

Promenade

Thoughts, dreams of people change into thoughts, dreams of ideas. Freedom, intention, good, bad - lack thereof. Illusions of the self, but most importantly of those in your immediate proximity.

The ground is covered in snow now, but the sidewalk resembles the yellow brick road you follow back home; only the color less annoying. Streetlamps smudged into a cozy glow by the fog that grabs onto each and every ray. The trees have fallen asleep in a land where everything dies for the months of winter.

Somewhere, nothing matters.

Something's changed

Is this boredom?

Making a day

If I were a superhero

I'd be the creepy-looking middle-aged man in a trench coat on the side of the road.
unwashed, unshaven
Superpower: exhibitionism


contributing to society
one thought at a time
but still
lacking of words

privacy; what luxury

oh laughter

I met an amazing man today. He said many things standing in the doorway between my room and the living room and I'm glad he did. I'm glad he seems to enjoy talking much more than I do, although I don't agree with all the points he makes. I'm glad he spoke my thoughts for me and whether he was (un)intentionally funny makes no difference, because the way he speaks has always been amusing in the way only my philosophy teachers have managed to be funny. It's a shame he's never been my teacher.

It's a good thing I don't often give a shit and disregard entire paragraphs of speech.

Three cups of tea. Thank you for comparing philosophiers to suicide bombers; for speaking words that have restored my trust in a lost cause; for.

Morning monologues

[...]

If true communication is impossible, because words mean different things to different people and whatever general definitions we might have only serve as guidelines, then in order for me to express myself as clearly and simply as possible I would have to define every concept I use separately. It's very difficult to do this briefly, when you're stuck with people who might have difficulties with the one language you both share and they might not have the attention span to hear what you're saying, if what you say comes out as a long speech. Fuck you. Maybe it's just me though.

[...]

Thank you for laughing. I smile back on all the times I've made you laugh.

[...]

What would I ever do, if I actually reached my destination?

Wow,

My room has a floor again. I'm so sick of owning all this useless shit.

Muistoja

Lainatakseni 16-vuotiasta itseäni ensimmäisinä lukioviikkoinani latinan tunnilla... "Mun koko elämäni on yhtä suurta, päättymätöntä luovaa taukoa."

Kiitos lukio. En jää kaipaamaan; yhtä vähän katumaan.

There is confidence in ignorance as there is
safety in numbers
naïvety in innocence

I'm only

sad when I think about the past
scared when I think about the future

unhappy content so many things when in the present?
am i ever here

Suppressed anger and acceptance

I don't ever want to go anywhere again;

?

Time stands still

Familiar faces attract and push me away simultaneously. I want to move, but can't pick a direction. I'm waiting for an impulse or burst of energy, motivation; anything. Maybe it'll be enough to stand still until I collapse from the fatigue and when I wake up to a new day, I'll know what to do.

It's scary how fast time flies by, so fast that nothing seems to change at all.

I'm scattered all over. I can't be bothered to clean this mess up or look for anything I may have lost in the process.

I've managed to buy the same thing twice due to forgetting about the first time I did it. I've played the same memories over in my head so many times that most of the time it feels like I'm repeating myself. I wish for more than I'm willing to work for, and so much doesn't get done.

Slip-ups

It's incredible how your surroundings impact you.

Sometimes I'm certain it's them speaking out of my mouth instead of me.

Hatred

I (probably) have lots of unresolved hate issues.

I don't really care about getting to know new people, it sucks always having to repeat the same stories and tell people the same things about yourself. I say I don't know why I bother, and really, most of the time I wonder, because I really don't know. It's so disappointing all too often. I hate you all.

[but the list is no more]

I miss...

I wish I could forward the cozy feeling dreams can produce by dressing fragments of them into words that clumsily attempt to describe them. I wish these words could transmit at least a part of that perfect everything I have such a real memory of without physically having experienced it. The playful touch of fingertips on my bare neck and shoulder, the feeling of being pulled next to someone. Little details like a smile, having full awareness; almost being omniscient. It's as if telling a story while being a part of it; how quickly infinite joy disappears and is replaced by utter indifference. I miss [you] in my dreams.

I may swallow words, but this swallows me whole.

There was a big house in the woods on a warm summer's day, a family wearing happy faces and a white car that had three flat tires. There was a party, but I couldn't find my black dress with white spots on it and portraits were painted of young couples; the husband-to-be was to stand a little to the back of their bride-to-be, and I watched from the side as I had no one. Half of the family wasn't properly dressed and it all seemed to be falling apart, but all the while everything was fine.

I don't know how the confusing party in the back yard of the house turned into my senior cruise, and the ship had odd holes and a maze only I could solve. I threw a shoe at someone.

I could be free

I am free.




I forget the option of running away.


I forget not caring, indifference, truth, honesty, contentment, joy, your voice and the words you've spoken.

I forget.




When I remember, sometimes, when morning hours creep around the corner; I remember, I am relieved, I breathe again.

I remember you and I remember thoughts, dreams; I remember the wall I'm supposed to climb... when I'd much rather stay in bed.

Exhale

Erase all the shit, take a deep breath.

It's going to be a long day, because short timespans seem to stretch beyond your comprehension when you've been up countless hours and there are no memory traces of moments spent unconscious covered in blankets and sheets.

It's almost breakfast time, but I haven't prepared.

Hiding in plain sight

Maybe I'm unhappy, because I'm tired and my fatigue is ultimately due to my laziness. The best way I know how to fix this is by sleeping, but right now I don't feel tired enough to sleep and have dreams about French airports and misplaced luggage and buying pear marmelade packed in plastic pumpkins that you can find at shopping malls hidden beneath the subway; running and trying to find the words to express myself in French and that obnoxious girl from school standing naked across the room explaining how good pornography is made.

I wish these months passed by faster...

I want to stop

I'm reluctant to move in any direction right now, I don't feel like sleeping or waking up. I don't want to speak to anyone, but when someone speaks to me they'll either remind me of happy times and I'll laugh and feel happy or I'll fill up with rage and contempt towards them and what they say. I'm tired of responding. thinking. doing [nothing]. I don't want to dress up or undress; tired of the thought of taking a shower or brushing my teeth, yet doing these things, I'm very pleased with myself and the outcome. Clean teeth, hair, comfortable clothes; soft.

Times like these make me wonder how large the possibility is that I'm losing it or how people end up in that state. How does one... and why don't they.

[...]

Someday...

I'll wake up and hug someone to death.

This apartment consisted of bits and pieces plagiarized from several homes I've been let into, not that the outcome was all that pretty or appealing. It didn't feel like home, it felt strange and unfamiliar, and I had responsibilities I didn't remember asking for. Lots of light, lots of space, lots of nice furniture I would never invest in - and the baby I was to look after.

Somehow I was more fascinated by the elephant that could tie its own shoelaces and had six feet; while it wore high heels on three feet and slippers on the other three, I watched it tie them neatly with its trunk and found it amusing. The lady who owned it walked out of the living room that had turned into the outdoors and continued along the road into the jungle, while I was left with a smaller elephant of my own. Quickly I tried to find my elephant shoes as well in order to follow, but they had already disappeared and I felt helpless.

I was back in the living room again with the baby playing around and he looked much like my nephew. He was so tiny he could be dressed in doll clothes and that's what he agreed to wear, so we could go outside. I kept going along with it, even though it felt unpleasant. The door to the balcony was open and there were dozens and dozens of cats that all wanted to play with me; I wanted them to leave me alone. I could feel them on my legs and their claws scratching me. The doorbell rang and I asked Lotta to get it, but she didn't want to help me out. There was a long-haired, bearded man at the door holding a cat by its tail, he threw it in, thanked me for agreeing to look after it and left smiling. I quickly shut the door not to let any of the cats escape.

Lotta told me a bee had managed to get in and we had to get it, so it wouldn't sting the baby. The harder we tried, the harder we failed and then we couldn't find it anymore. There were more and more mosquitoes on the walls though, and I kept killing them. The more I killed, the more the next one started to resemble a small parrot-like bird. They kept getting bigger and bigger with distinctive beaks. Then they started having colors. The bee had disappeared for good, which worried me, and then I couldn't find Lotta either.

There were three colorful parrots on a dresser. I approached them cautiously to smack them to death with the newspaper I had used to whack the smaller bird-looking insects earlier. They didn't move, so I kept hitting them to make sure they were dead. Since I couldn't be sure, I used the rolled up newspaper to puncture one's eyes. For some reason I thought the proper way to deal with my unexplicable rage towards the bird creatures was to bite one's head off. I was worried I'd get some sort of poisoning or fatal disease from the dead thing's head in my mouth though, so I spat it in a sink in the kitchen of the house and kept washing my mouth with water only to find there was more and more bird flesh and feathers stuck in my throat that I had to get out. I thought I was going to throw up.

I (used to) have all the time in the world

Now I only have some of it. Time to zone out.

What a huge waste of time

I say so much retarded and unrequired shit and then think about it afterwards and wish I could unsay it.

Or maybe replace all the meaningless crap with something that actually matters; whatever that's supposed to mean in a given context.

Like sand through the hourglass

Fear of actions or their consequences or rather the motives behind them - I don't know, it's all (ir)relevant, relative, ambiguous.

All this because I try to believe there's no other way; that this is the right one, the way to avoid mistakes... but trying to finish is so tireing and people require compromise and I lack patience and understanding.

I need to stop following my own advice again.

Flawless reasoning, am i doin it rite?

Mostly I wish I didn't do everything I did and did more of some of those things I don't do enough instead, not that I know what those things would be - or if I do, I generally regard them as actions better omitted. The problem is simple and the formula to fix it all doesn't seem very complicated. Does this mean I'm silly for being afraid, if it's fear, or that I'm perhaps being smart for a change, approaching cautiously and giving thought to what possible damage may be caused.

Thinking this much about anything was never really worth it, because even when you fuck up you're kind of glad you did instead of not doing anything about it, except this is a retarded generalization and I realize you may not agree. I mean, fuck logics and consequences, I'd rather die in a fire than be reasonable sometimes. just sometimes though. Most of the time it's something quite different and really all the same, without the bad taste in my mouth.

If I had the off-switch for my brain I sometimes wish I had, I'm pretty sure I would never use it; I'd just find comfort in knowing there was one. Now it feels a bit more hopeless, even with the exact outcome, but mostly because of reasons.

Stuff
ed, any
think/g i am
you, we are
pleas u're
breaking me on the
table, against the wall
down the hall
cross the line, do it all
word play, word play, decay
tapp, ing away
how do you spell
s/torm,
sil-
ent ities holding me down
hmm, mmm, mmh

Wall of sound

I miss this; if you're part of this, then it'd only be fair to admit I miss you too, occasionally, for brief moments. The way the chords of an acoustic guitar reproduce with my soul, like when you poke fun at me and find the weak spot and I wonder if you know, if you know, do you know. Do you not realize.

You play the piano and you whisper words and when you are quiet there is nothing. I worship you in the silence of that nothingness, the nothing that is everything that it consumes. What I say means nothing, unless they are the words I try to keep from you to prolong whatever we have now.

But you don't know about the violins, they weep when you're gone and compose in your name. The violins that laugh in your presence. The laughter covers everything, blinds my vision and certainly I'll never see enough, if I'm looking in the wrong direction. If it's dark I'll still hear you breathe, are you still there, are you there, you're there, you're close but you're far away; enough just enough.

Excitement I thought I'd never feel again, but I'm still doing it upside-down and I think I'm happy. I'm glad. I'm content.

Instead of trying to make a list, I'll try this

Apparently a stolen couch does not help one at a lack of words, but it's amazing how little things you don't care all that much about make all the difference in the world, when you're not surrounded by the four familiar walls you're used to. The thing that's most concerning I suppose is that anything I might have to say hasn't really been practiced in any way and rehearsing never felt all that appealing. Basically I'm causing obstacles for myself here.

Basically I produce large amounts of shit.