~

 

But this isn't like one of the those fairy tale endings in the books you can buy. Are my weeping tears just a product of my ego talking, trying to confine my inner consciousness. Or are these tears the final statement in a long process of neverending thoughts, that has always been there, and thus shall always be.

 

For now I stand and try to contemplate my narrow view of my own spectrum of emotions. Trying to get a glimpse of the past and trying to captivate it - but I know I shouldn't. Because I've locked myself in a barrel of self-awareness, exits pointing in all directions. But which one is mine for the taking?

.. I wanna think you did it to show me that you haven't left me entirely in the dark yet.

To prove that I still linger in your baffled mind.

 

Maybe I try to find what I saw in you, in everyone I meet. Why is that?

Where is the end I am looking for, and how do I get there? And above all, who are you?

I can see loved ones embracing eachother in silenced trust. And an inevitable benevolent sensation erupts within me. A sensation of true goodness, and affection for the whole, of which we're merely a tiny fragment of. Living busy lives occupied with false promises and doubts in the reflection of our eyes. But despite all that is sinister, and all that is shrouded in mist, I cannot feel anything but gratitude that I am. And for all that I am. Seeing tiny miracles everywhere I go. Enhanced by the love of unity, and for oneself.

 

We are so much more than bones and blood encaged in a fragile fleshy shell. But this prison is here for a reason though. Have you ever had an itch that you can't scratch no matter how you try, and no matter how much you think of not to think, you think about it even more?

 

To feel lonely is to abandon the fact and realization that we are everything. We are infinity. We are one with everything that orbits around us. And the only thing that is keeping us at just the comfortable distance from it, is how we in the end define ourselves.

 

Life is, in essence of everyday life a true blessing very few people ever realize. Walking in dead lines and continuing our narrow way of life. And we wonder why, we are deeply anxious about our choices in life. Always wanting our path to be the right one, before walking it. But answer me this. How can you know the feeling of true affection by reading a love poem? Or the warmth of the sun by a picture? 

 

 

Everything we do and everyone we encounter, gives us a benevolent push in the back,

onwards on our path. Everything's leading to it. Because every path is the right path.

 

To merely exist is absolute in its finest form. But to live, on the contrary, is like seeing her, and her smiling eyes for the first time. Therefore I adhere to the say that life is encircled by the love of oneself, and incomplete if not.

.. and thus you're always with me.

 

Fnissade gott efter att ha läst lite om ultra-ultra wide lenses.

 

I lold'.

Köpte mig ett Tokina 11-16/2.8 supervidvinkelobjektiv idag. Om det nu ens är ett ord. Om inte så skapar jag det nu.

Såå inom den närmsta framtiden lär det bli lite halvtattiga bilder tills jag lärt mig skiten bättre. Tung som ett hus är det dock. Känns bra.

 

Idag har jag varit ovanligt hurtig. Begav mig ut för att springa, vilket i teorin och i mitt huvud utspelades som något trivsamt och skönt, nu när solen är behagligt värmande och allt däremellan. Men, ja.. Vad jag inte tog med i mina finfina beräkningar var att jag har en kondition som en 75-åring med down syndrome. Men trots många kollapser i taggiga buskage resulterade det ändå i en runda på drygt, cirkus 4km. Vilket fan är rätt skapligt, tycker jag själv, för en som inte rört sig snabbare än en vandrande pinne de senaste två-tre åren.

 

Laddade ner några stegräknare till mobilen också. Tänkte köra lite serious business när jag ändå håller på liksom. Men inte fan kom jag på att starta skiten. #rage. Kom på det efter ett tag som tur var, så det var inte så himla #rage men. Lite kanske.

 

Väl efter min uttorkande maratonrunda hookade jag med Kevin. Vi kastade sten i vattnet. Det var trevligt. Sen gick vi ytterligare 2-3km till ett utomhusgym. Var quite sweet. Kanske blir en revisit inom en inte (jodå) allt för lång framtid. Efter det ville vi gå en annan väg hem. Och två pajaser som vi är resulterade det i en rejäl jävla omväg. Irrade runt bland villor mellan Mälarhöjden och Bredäng tills vi hittade tillbaka till civilisationen. Appen visade när jag kom hem att jag hade gått drygt 12000 steg, och över 1.1mil allt som allt. Wut.

 

Hejhej träningsvärk imorgon.

 

I see years flicker and calander pages turn like a book written by the wind. I see you and me divided on two paths like two subway trains heading in opposite directions in the morning traffic. The mesmerizing blurr of all the people, and the amazingly diversity of mankinds' love. But not everyone's happy.

 

_________________

A narrator begins to tell a story. A story about two paths where one heart got separated into two.

_________________

 

Before the light shone upon the moon, she felt insecure and lost. Because all the stars were so far away, like a far-fetched dream out of her reach. And in her growing hole of emptiness she didn't find any answers fit to her belief. She wandered the night sky for years with the wearingly hole within.

She feared dawn for the light was so unfamiliar to her, but at the same time indescribably beautiful. She wanted to peek over the horizon, just to get a glimpse of what might be there. After all, she was curious. And one late morning she decided with all her efforts, to withdraw all agony her solitude had made her suffer from during all those cold dark nights.

And over the hilltop she saw, what was always within her, even though she never had the guts to believe it - a tiny little sun. And so she unclenched herself from the misery and loneliness of her own chains, and embraced the suns warmth with open arms.

 

Time flew by, and the secret lovers remained intact. Seasons changed and winds arose, but their love was solid, and they drifted along the clouds and sang over the mountains and let flowers bloom in their name. It was a time and an era of joy and late shimmery nights in the bathing summer sun. They enjoyed their innocence and cried for time to pledge at their will. But the wind had great wit, and a soft breeze soon began to whistle over the hills.

It caught the suns lungs when he breathed, and filled him with regretful thoughts. And the sun didn't rose that high anymore on that timeless sheet by which the lovers some many nights had been staring at in complete silenced trust and comfort.

And he understood that the forrest sometimes needs a fire to annihilate what once was, in order to attain wisdom and to fully again, prosper in the light. And for all this time that he'd been spending with his soulmate, his hole of awareness had been shrinking. And his life had lost a significant part. By what or by who, he couldn't answer. For there wasn't any. The rain doesn't need a reason to understand its own existance, and need not to be translated. For the translation is lost in the trying matter of using words. It lies in the meaning behind the words, in between of the letters. Not in the fully compressed sentence.

So the sun left his moon. Without any goodbyes, for how could he ever tell her something like that. Saying goodbye to your own heart is the hardest thing anyone can do, and it takes tremendous courage to deny your own soul. To split your soul in two. The sun left the moon in the shadows, while he stood alone. He left while she cried but he didn't look back. But what the moon never understood, and never saw thereafter, was that every night the sun shone with all his majesty and with all his might from the other side of the hill, just to never completely leave his other soul fragment and to let the love of his life, shine at all her best, at all times, throughout space and time.

 

For she was the love of his life, and therefore, he let her go.

A substantial part of me died tonight. It was I who pulled the trigger.

Glee sucker osv men, who the fuck cares really.

 

Åh, fick mina böcker idag. Eller, jag gick och hämtade ut dem. (Bok ett, tre, fyra och fem från toppen.) Vädret kan ta sig. Från att vara kyligt och behagligt, till att bli värmebölja is just not OKEY. Jävla skit. Men har lite att underhålla mig med inne iallafall.

 

And here I stand, once more, with my feet in the thick sand again. Slowly sinking down. The branches on the nearby trees keeps its distance. No arms for me. No hands. Only my own shadow to rely on. A silent scream echoes inside the residence of my interior. A shout in the dark. A mirror reflecting a future wish. Which keeps me from living here and now. And that's where the end of the line reconnects with the start.

 

Do I really live in the past, and have I fallen into the habit of glorifying my former feelings and justifications? Because I don't understand. Did I not cross the bridge of clarity already? Or maybe the blind acceptance that made me think I actually did, was the true verification that I didn't.