My parents came over with a bed. That was very nice of them. But for some reason it made me very sad, too. Meeting them here, in Sthlm, made me sad. I don't understand why. I sort of see how old they are becoming and how their bodies are betraying them and it makes me sad. And it revolts me. And that makes me feel ashamed. They are not supposed to be small and weak!

I just... I don't know. This bed feels more like a strange and intrusive element in my life than the sofa I've been sleeping on.

And it's just... I don't know. It's shit. I don't know what it is or why but it is shit. And it's not the same shit that I've been rehashing for the past months, this is something else. And I don't know what. I just feel terrible.

I feel awful. I feel the distance. I feel it so much. Living with S has made me sort of forget the distance because we both are seven million miles beyond the sun, keeping each other company in exile. But the distance is there. 2 people does not make a world. Doesn't matter which two people. I thought it did, once. I thought that was enough. But that just makes you even lonelier when it ends. And it does.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't as honest with myself as I am (or rather, as I have learned or forced myself to be). Walls and protections and everything just comes crumbling down so fast that I don't know what might be left or what will happen to it.

I don't know... I feel like the weather right now. Grey, bleak, humid and cold. Cold.

No, got to get in the shower now.