To Owe Someone a Bad Day.

Lying. What possible purpose could it ever serve to lie. What constitutes a lie? Or a liar?
I wonder...
Did you ever tell a lie and enjoyed it? You must have. It was so scaringly easy for you to become so fundamentally dishonest, that you had no idea whether you were lying or not...
When did the lying start? Did you just lie to the people around you or did you actually end up lying to yourself?
Were you ever in love with her? Maybe you just saw her on the train. Sitting alone with her white, porcelain skin and the complexion of a white peach - one could almost see her veins. You properly regarded her as the easy prey that she was. She looked at you and revealed her big, blue eyes. Reflecting nothing but true purity or true stupidity - one can't be positively sure without a proper conversation. She then talked to you. Her voice was pure; as if her mouth had been cleaned before she spoke a single word.
Your fetish for her might have been snobbery from the start. She was a dane with a strong accent, who claimed that she loved to travel but had never even left Europe?
- As if she was a monkey who just strolled out of the rainforest and asked for a Gin and Tonic.

The story you're sticking to is that, you did not want to harm or hurt her. Which gives the non-truth-telling some sort of sentimental value?  I know you do not regard yourself as a lying bastard. I know that you'll claim forever that you never lied to her. You'll say that things didn't really work out and that the two you slowly but certainly grew apart. I know for a fact that you felt unsure about the relasionship for a while. A long while. You could have made the kill right then and there - but No, you felt the need to drag it out via a round#2, #3 and #4. - You have always known she was a big girl, who could handle the truth, but you weren't straight with her. You weren't man enough to make the kill to her face, while she was still in the country and that unfortunately reduces you into a big, fat waste of testosterone.
People might be puzzled by why on earth, she put up with you and your childish view of how things should be and that is something so precious; so dear and rare, that you can't ever wrap your head around it, simply because you have never experienced the particular four-letter-felling in its purest form of all and that is the sad truth. And to this date you have never been able to understand that if you had just been honest with her ... there was nothing she wouldn't have done for you. Nothing she wouldn't have sacrificed for you.

As I was sitting on the plane, on my way to the place I once called "Home" - I got the distinct feeling of being a civil warrior on the way to my own execution. I thought it was just my fear of flying messing with me... The truth can be hurtful but a lie makes permanent scars.

I don't want men to get into my emotional center.
- Because now, the echo might kill them.

Who will ever know?

I no longer stand on a beach by the Australian sea but the waves will keep on
breaking and rolling towards the white, white sand.
And, the sound of almost thunder, wil make the rocks jump and switch places
throughout eternity.
When I die, a silverstring of smooth pearls is going to break.
The pearls will roll through the land and run home to all the mussle-mothers
on the bottom of the the sea.
Who will dive and find my pearls? Who will ever guess they were mine?
Who will ever know that the whole world used to hang around my neck?

 

Like Gravity

It happened so freakeshly fast that I almost a psysical bump in my core.

I knew right then and there that something had changed and would never be the same.

It was like gravity. My whole center shifted and suddenly it wasn't Mother Earth holding me here... but him. I was ready to do anything, be anything he needed. A friend. A lover. A protecter.

My love for him could cover the entirety of every room, evey place, every time.

Without him I feel like.. I honestly do not know what to feel anymore. I feel a loss. A loss of the future I was convinsed we were gonna have together.

There's no point in trying to define or analyse Loss. Loss is to be felt and felt deeply... it's not be explained.

My father used to say: "Mind the Gap..."

- You need to mind the gap, because once you do you'll officially be an adult. Once you realize that there is a huge gap, between life as we dream it and life as it is.

Your Patience Is Requested

I recently moved from Australia after almost 3 years and back to my native country; Denmark.
- Some might argue that's just moving from one God forsaken place to another... and that might be true, given by the fact that I didn't live "next to the Sydney Operah House with a pet kangaroo" (which is the Danes interpretation of australian living). No, I lived in Western Australia, which is the complete oppisite side of the country. I held a steady job, working 9 to 5 and never left the state of W.A. - but that is another story for another day...'

It's the longest story of all, how I ever ended up in Australia and I'll spear you the details, the point is: It was never my dream to go to Australia. It was never even my dream to leave Europe. As many other teenagers, I obviously had dreams about conquering the world, travelling and graping life by the balls - but to me personally, that could all be done within the continent of Europe.

I spent half my time in Australia being miserable. I  spent the other half of my time being the happiest girl alive - and "No" i do not suffer from a mental disorder or emotional unstableness.
When Charles Dickens wrote: "It was the best times, it was the worst of times", he simply must have been living in Australia for his beloved partner - but not for himself.

 I had no idea that snow and cold frosty weather was something you could almost physicly miss or need, but I now have the theory that if you are from Northen Europe it's simply someting you can't do without... and you'll properly (as a scandinavian) never agree with me, untill you've spent 3 years without it. In australia I missed the snow as if it had been a part of my personality.

Now that I'm back in Denmark i'm missing to constantly speak english. I hate feeling like some sort of foreigner in my own country - as if I've been living in Mordor for the past 200 years.