Thirty eight

Hey.

This is me again, only this time I'm writing from Sweden. I'm now about to make a serious attempt to do some CPR on this blog, kickstart the heart and keeping it alive. I'm going to stop over analyzing every word I type and that means everything I post might not always be perfect but I've decided not to care about that and just focus on regular updates. So, well.. here we go again. Please see shitloads of words below. Sorry in advance for going all deep again (that's what he said), but this just an update, it'll get more entertaining I promise.

I'm back in my old hometown and the smell of winter is everywhere. Just being outside equals some pretty intense pain as the cold really gets to me, and there's only a couple hours of daylight. Still, I'm in a very good state of mind. No matter how I feel about this place, it's alright for now. Just to put it out there, with minimal fuss and no further ado: I've calmed the fuck down lately.

After leaving London I spent about six weeks in Norway and the city was teeny tiny (which was not at all expected). Rush hour in Oslo is like an empty London three o'clock on a Tuesday.


In Norway, you can go whale watching and buy a bag of crisps for £8 (you can also buy some fucking decadent drugs if that'd take your fancy). There are big black crows flying about, probably three billion disgustingly rich people with small dogs and the tap water is so clean that it's almost close to unnatural. Also, rumor has it that the city is full of invisible unicorns but I didn't see any.

I lived in a little house together with four friends of mine, and I slept on a loft together with a dude named Mikael. The little house had chandeliers, 13 pictures of boats on purple walls and a floor so cold that it was almost unbearable in the mornings. We ate fish fingers, noodles and canned sweetcorn and drank coffee and wine while talking about good and bad times. We cried, laughed, welcomed autumn and planned for the future.

But as wonderful as it was indeed, it wasn't for me.

So here I am, back again, where I suppose it all started.

I still make doubtful choices sometimes and my biggest fear is still to be unwanted. I can't stand the thought of rejection and being unloved and the feeling that I'm for whatever reason not good enough.

But then I remember: life's what you make it and if shit seems to be all around you no matter how fast you run, chances are high that you are the one either creating the shit or that you're full of it yourself. You can't run away from yourself, take it from someone whose middle name used to be "existential crisis". It's just no point going through life with a head creating problems that aren't really there. I learned that a lesson way too late.

You can wish for things to change, but it won't get you nowhere. My life's entirely up to me, and your life's entirely up to you. It's just as simple as that, really. Well, tiring and mind blowing, indeed. But simple. And once you get it, it's a lot easier to breath. Trust me.

I'm now focusing on work, getting tattooed, hugging friends and staying happy. I don't know where I'll be in a week, next month, in three years. But that's the thing, that's the answer. I don't have to. I don't have to know.

Not for me, not for anyone.