Harmoni

pause

As you might have noticed, this blog isn't really that active. Those of you that understands swedish and don't mind readin about less personal issues can however do so here.

I am a bit grumpy. A lot of things just feels lite extra weight on my back and on my mind. And for no real reason. Just that people feels like putting it there.

I'm tired of people trying to change themselves. They are just mutilating themselves. I know it, because I've done it. And maybe that means I should be more understanding to people being in the same situation I was in 6-7 years ago, but I just find it tiresome.

It's one of those days. One of those days when my heart and soul feals chained up with a ball and chain. The can't lift. They can't sore. And it feels like it doesn't matter if the do or don't. I just feel... Like dead weight. Like lead.

I just don't need the aggravation. I don't need tension. I just want some peace and quiet. That all I want in the world. Peace and quiet and stability. But that is obviously too much to ask for.

I'm thinking about starting a blog in swedish, just to relearn how to write good in my native tounge.

Peggy Sue

I've always disliked love songs. Too cheesy, you know? Too banal. Recently I have started to reevaluate it. Maybe I have become more accepting. Maybe I'm letting myself feel cheesy things. Maybe so strong and horrific feelings can't be properly described. Maybe banality is the only possible human response to something so gut wrenching.

No release valve anymore. Crying? It feels like lies. Like hypocrisy. Talking? The same. Engraved deep within me is the concept of Acta non Verba (don't talk, act), or maybe rather Acta et Verba. Talk and act. If I could be sure that I wouldn't be judged, maybe I would talk (but in reality I fear that I am the only one that judges).

I have many wishes and many fears, but one of them is the same: forgetting. There are things that pains me so, things I just want to forget, things I want blotted out of history. And then I look at that history and realize that there are so much that I don't remember. Things I want and need to remember. Things that still affect me. I don't know what scares me more: remembering them and their full meaning or forgetting more.

God, I just cant stop being angry and sad at the same old shit.

Parched with thirst am I and dying

I have a problem with people being 'cute' and 'nice'. It's such a pose, and an annoying pose at that. And I think it's such a lie. People hiding the dark, evil and disgusting parts of themselves from themselves. I don't see how you can deal with it then. Granted, I have gone to excesses in the opposite direction. But in some ways I prefer that because in a way it makes it possible to evolve a bit. The bar is set kind of low, you know?

Another aspect of this is the discussion I had with someone about being 'genuinly good' a while back.

I just find this thing about being naive and cute such an illusory escape from the realities of human nature and of this world. But then again, one could argue that I am doing the exact same thing when I'm only seeing the darkness of the world and it's inhabitants.

Procreation of the Wicked

I feel like such a rotten human being sometimes. Not evil or cruel. Just rotten. Small. Weak. Shallow. Just seeking some kind of validation.

It makes me sad, knowing that that is also me. Because somewhere along the line I hurt people I love.

When will I stop mourning myself?

Stench of Decay

Smells are a strange thing. I recently had a night filled with feelings of loss, of abandonment, of loneliness and of a lack of stability. I had a hard time understanding why these feelings surfaced then and there and why it felt so familiar and out of place, why it felt so different from all the other times. It didn't feel like memories, it felt like I was there. And then I realized that it was the smell from the ointment I had recently used for my shoulders that brought it all back (I used that ointment a lot about a year ago because my back and shoulders were fucked for different reasons.).

Strange that.

I met an old pal at the subway on my way to work. Don't really know him that well and he sort of vanished a couple of years back, but I like him. We get along well but it never got any further. Probably because we both are quite anti social. But we might see more of each other in the near future. We'll see. I'm thinking that we both are quite bad at taking a social initiative, so we'll see. Would be nice, though.

I have also been thinking about mental scars. You are in a certain way, behave in a certain way, your thoughts work in certain ways. How much of that is YOU and how much is just... scars? And how nice wouldn't it be if you could actually see what caused those scars? But I don't. Sometimes I think I do, but I don't know. Am I seeing the truth or what I just want to be the truth? I can't allow myself to act on feelings if the base of those feelings are dead wrong, now can I? So how do I know?

Sometimes I almost miss feeling like shit because at least then I did something. Sure, it might just have been walking or sitting in a café drinking coffee and writing or cooking or doing the dishes or whatever. These days I do nothing.