Ett icke vi

Du. Som aldrig kommer att få veta att jag spenderade en hel vinter på en madrass på golvet i vardagsrummet. (Bara för att jag inte kunde sova bredvid honom när du var i mitt huvud.) Jag gnistrade och glödde in i märgen (när du log) och ibland tog jag fram en bok jag visste att du läst (bara för att få läsa samma ord som du gjort). Jag log mig igenom veckor av möten. (För att dina händer var de vackraste jag någonsin sett.) Och allt kändes plötsligt som orörd, obruten mark i en så länge pågående stiltje som bara väntat på sin storm. Du kommer aldrig att förstå att någonting började där, med dig, ute i kylan, i snön -- för många, många månader sedan. Istället var det han som kom. (Han var inte helt olik dig.) Och jag föll, bara för att tiden var här. Du var sedan länge försvunnen. In i samma dimma som jag vandrade ut ur den där ljumma sommarnatten när livet självmant vände blad och det helt enkelt inte fanns mycket att göra åt saken. Jag ser dig ibland ute i natten och det hugger alltid till lite i mig. Inte av sorg eller saknad -- vi var aldrig varandras. Men minnet svider: av långa, trånga korridorer fulla av tråkiga dokument, av tröstlösa papper och datorskärmar och myndighetsbeslut så in i döden trötta, av Marlboro lights och gemensamma nämnare och allt vi skrivit och ännu inte skrivit. Vi möttes därute, oförhappandes och mellan ramarna -- bortom allt det vi trodde att vi så gärna ville vara. Och under en enda liten, andlös sekund såg vi varandra precis som vi verkligen var.

 Bear Colony – hospital rooms aren't for lovers

Wish

Your words are like tattoos. 

Om...

Det drar ihop sig. Och jag vet ingenting. Jag säger förväl, adjö, på återseende och jag är så tom under tiden. Jag vet inte om jag vågar? Han är inte samma, milen är inte lika många, men rädslan är precis lika stor. Jag ser ner mot vattnet. (Som är vitt nu.) Jag vandrar samma vägar. (Som är klädda i kyla och pudrig, vit snö nu.)  Livet är ett oskrivet blad igen, livet är ett frågetecken igen.

Jag undrar hela tiden om jag är på väg någonstans.

 Ulf Lundell – Blodröd Zon

Ambivalence

Am I right? Amongst dunes of snow and ice and cold. Am I fair? Amongst confusion and tears and heartbreak. Will I harm you? Amongst covers and cups and everyday life. Am I doing this for the right reasons or am I wrong, to keep trying, to keep moving. I miss still: every single day. I see still: that face, whenever I step outside my door. I hear still: that voice, inside my head. He´s here still. Does that mean anything? Everything? I´m tired. Of giving and not reaching the desired outcome. I´m sick of me, I´m sick of this, I´m sick of goodbyes and hellos and all the I don´t knows. I´m grown now -- will I ever feel it? I´m still me -- will I ever know her? Is it really, really time to fly again? 

I would have flown for him.


Taylor Swift – Drops Of Jupiter - Live 2011

Behind

I´m deconstructing my life. Tiny little tidbits piled on tiny little tidbits until, in the end, all will have to fit into one single lime green suitcase. It´s a curious thing: seeing your life confined to little squares of commodity that can be packed away with ease or stored indefinitely somewhere where time and absence won’t harm it. Some things I have to close the book on. Some things won’t fit into squares and disagrees with being concealed in storage. All the while I feel nothing and I think even less. When I attempt to view the present tense from the outside I do sense I large sadness, but at the core, always, is he. And I know that I can make my home anywhere, as long as he is there with me, unpacking those boxes. 

Carly Comando – Everyday

Enough

The world is open, the world is wide -- yet I feel as if I´m walking on breaking glass, threading water endlessly, without getting anywhere but here. Where I don´t want to be. Minutes turn to hours, turn to days and weeks and months and what I do, is what I can -- I keep my head above water, I keep breathing -- in out, in out. I long for the days when there was life. When everything was colour and magic and enchantment and grandeur. When all sparkled and glittered and I was´nt sure where I was going, but I was moving so rapidly I passed you by as a blur, as an enigma, as a bolt of lightning or a shooting star. And now this: forever in limbo, forever standing still, forever needlessly trying, aiming, and forever not moving. I want it to stop now.

"Please stop now."

Martha Wainwright – Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole 

Breakable

Funny how things change. Funny this life. Funny that I´ve found my harbor, my rescue, my safety -- the man  who sees me, with all my cracks, and still chooses to love me. Funny that I love him so much and on so many different levels regardless of so many things. Funny that he is all I want and then some more. It´s a funny feeling when you know, deep inside, that you are in the presence of the man you´ll spend the rest of your life with. The one who can break you with one single glance, but who chooses not to, simply because it would break him too. Funny feeling when you walk down the street with your hand in his and you know, at the core, that you are walking next to the love of your life. Funny feeling, with lots of doors closing, lots of things being left in the past, but a new, bright and shiny one just about to open.

The one towards the rest of your life.

Alanis Morissette – In Praise Of The Vulnerable Man

Boxed in

S: You´re ticking all the boxes, Nina.
Jag: Really?
S: Yeah, even boxes I did´nt know I had.

Working man

As we drove under the Tuscan sun you began to fade. As we drove miles and miles across a dream I began to loose you. We said goodbye a long time ago, but you were still there, always there. And now, a fading image of a man who never stood down, whose future was bleak and who had my heart in another life. I wonder sometimes how you are. I wonder sometimes if you smile when you remember that summer. I wonder sometimes who I would have been if you had not come along. Because, the ones that affect your life in a profound way are few. The ones who inspire greatness in you are even fewer. The ones who change you, at the core, always come in single numbers. So, you're in here -- with your feisty fists, your intense gaze, your no bullshit mentality and your brooding manners. You're in here -- with your terrible dress sense, your magic feet and your fast mind. And, even though I don't think of you much these days. Even though I see no reason to dream of things that never came to be. Even though my life leaves me hopeful and giddy and happy, I'll still carry your words with me, always.

"Nina, let's endeavour to achieve the unachievable." 

And as I hear your voice in my head I smile, because I suddenly believe that I can. 

The Saw Doctors – Clare Island

Under the Tuscan sun

I would have liked to have a picture of every moment. A snapshot of every single second. Of you and me in the moonlight, swimming beneath the stars, in the Mediterranean. Of you and me, curled up in that small tent in Tuscany -- on a gypsy campsite, with the warm breeze blowing through our hair. Driving miles and miles across the beautiful, rugged Alps -- covering large distances, but feeling so close to it all, and so totally in sync. A five star hotel in Florence, with our very own terrace in the scorching, hot sun. Dinner on a rooftop overlooking the city: you, clean-shaven, boyish -- your eyes twinkling across the table. And that morning, in a lorry park on a freeway somewhere in Italy: chased by flies, ogled by lorry drivers, but laughing, always laughing at it all. Coffee in a little Italian village on a mountaintop: flowers spilling from every balcony as we touched ancient streets and bricks and stones and finally, one of the most beautiful little churches I have ever seen. You, there: petting a beautiful, moon-grey kitten -- even though it was 36 degrees in the sun and the air hurt to breathe. Your lanky frame, your black hair (that had started to turn golden in the sun), your skin, translucent and shimmering in the blistering light. And me: extatic, blissfull and giddy, but as always, with a core of darkness and doubt. Could this be? Can you really be? 

Him. 

Katy Perry – Wide Awake