COFFEE

my picture ©

good morning babe,
do you want me to make you coffee?

ON MY MIND

tumblr

JAG TROR VI ÄR HISTORIER

my picture ©

kan det vara så att vi endast består av historier som väntar på att berättas?

jag tummar på slutet av ett av mina kapitel just nu. jag låter sidorna rinna mjukt som vatten under min tumme. det är inte många sidor, men det är sidor som väger tungt.
jag vill inte sluta men det finns snart inte mer kvar att läsa.
för varje blad jag vänder så blir jag tyngre i skorna för jag vet att det snart blir blankt. vitt. tomt. och jag är inte redo för det. detta är ett kapitel som jag aldrig vill läsa om men inte vill läsa ut än.
jag tror jag kommer riva ur sidorna och lägga dom på ett ställe jag vet jag kommer glömma bort.

jag tror jag läser ut sista sidorna ikväll.

could it be that we're all just stories waiting to be told?

i'm at the end of one of my chapters right now. i let the pages run smoothly like water underneath my thumb. there's not a lot of pages, but they're heavy.
i don't want to stop reading, but soon there'll be nothing left to read. with every page i turn my shoes get heavier because i know it'll soon be blank. white. empty. and i'm not ready for that just yet. this is a chapter i never want to read again but i don't want to finish it just yet.
i think i'll tear out the pages and hide them in a place i know i'll forget. 

i think i'll read the last pages tonight.

BUT YOU'LL NEVER KNOW

my pictures ©

THE CITY OF MY HEART

my pictures ©

IN REPAIR

my picture ©

there's beauty in being brave enough to show or tell someone you're hurt. this is something i'm slowly trying to embrace but it's hard because i've spent my whole life trying to be the exact opposite.

i know it's hard to let your guard down. to allow yourself to not be so goddamn proud. i know that. i know because that's me. 

i often hide away and rarely let anyone know what's going on inside my head, and never what's happening in my heart. 

and it's absolutely draining and exhausting. i can't do it anymore. so i pour it out.

if someone makes me angry, if i feel like i'm treated wrong, i say so. if someone hurts me, i at least try to be brave enough to tell them. 

i tell them because i need to. although i wear my heart on my sleeve (or rather attached to a string dragging in the dirt behind me), i'm also incredibly guarded and careful.

it's the oddest combination but i'm slowly accepting it. 

i can't do much about it, i have to embrace it somehow.

there's beauty in telling someone you're hurt. 

there's beauty in walking away.

TRYING

my picture ©

i'm trying

to find my way out of this

but it's just to damn dark on this side of heartache