There is something truly annoying about having lots of things to do, going to bed and then finding yourself wide awake, hoping that it'll be morning soon so you can do those things. After lying there for three hours and coming to the conclusion that your sleeping isn't going so well you think "well maybe I should go up and do that thing!" but now you've been in bed for so long that it would be ludicrous to do so! You might fall asleep at any moment. Now you become irritated that you wasted all these hours lying in bed, not sleeping when you could have done that thing. Now you're just upset instead, sleep becoming even harder to achieve. About an hour after this you fall asleep and you wake up at shit o'clock.
Annoying, isn't it?
I like taking walks, for many reasons. Maybe I was fed up with whatever I was doing, maybe I needed some air.
Sometimes I take walks because it feels like there's something heavy inside my chest, a kind of unrest. At those moments I try taking really deep breaths, because it feels like it might help. It feels like the depth of my breaths—how filled my lungs get—have a threshold. It feels like if a single breath was to get past that threshold, the heavy feeling would subside.
So it's not unusual for me to find myself walking around, breathing deeply, focused, hunting for that threshold. If I'm unlucky, the heaviness stays. But in a few cases, after walking around outside for a couple of minutes, I successfully inhale so deeply that the threshold is overwon and during the following exhale I feel a big, fuzzy calm take hold of me.
I like those moments.
I have pages upon pages of short stories, lyrics, thoughts and feelings written down. On pieces of papers scattered throughout my bedroom. On my computers.
Throughout my twenties I have attempted a lot of hobbies. I recently realized that the only one—except fiddling around with computers and playing guitar—that has stuck around is writing. It comes to me naturally to just start typing or writing whenever I feel empty inside or when something huge wants to come out.
This realization made me think that it's probably better for me to focus on the hobbies that come naturally by having the tools around to do them. If it's painting or drawing, I'll have those tools around me. If it's playing music, I'll have my instruments at hand. I'll surround myself with the stuff I need in order to spontaneously do the things I might like.
If I surround myself with these things without anything happening, I will not attempt to force it anymore. Life is too short for that.
He strolled down the street, next to the buildings which housed students. His clothes consisted of a tracksuit, and the blond hair was in a bun on the top back of his head, as was fashionable at the time.
His steps were casual. He was eating a banana. When the banana was almost consumed, maybe having 1/3 left of it's fruity innards, he saw someone approach him down the street. The person approaching was to him unknown, and he held IKEA-bags. The bags were presumably filled with clothes, as revealed by him heading for the small house in which laundry was done.
The person with the bun, tracksuit and banana froze in his walk. The laundry man looked up, confused. As if entering a battle stance the frozen man aggressively threw his almost eaten banana in the ground and produced, maybe hidden in his other hand, maybe from his pockets, two small wooden sticks. The stick were about 20 centimeters long, maybe 2 centimeters in diameter and were covered with really beautiful carvings.
While in this battle stance, with the laundry man by now looking slightly afraid, he began hitting the sticks together, over his head, playing a kind of catchy rhythm "tock tock tocktock, tock tock tocktock, tock tock tocktock". Holding his legs stiff and shuffling around, he moved around like a monkey hitting two interesting items together in the hopes of scaring something away (or something, I don't know anything about monkeys!).
By now the laundry man found the whole situation slightly uncomfortable. He did not seem to know or recall ever meeting this track-suited loony. The door to the laundry was closer to him, and he went towards it, going out of sight from the other. The man with the sticks immediately stopped playing. But before being able to enter the laundry house, the man with the sticks had rounded the corner of the building, seen the man again and jumped straight into the same pose and played his melody until the other disappeared into the laundry house with his IKEA-bags.
The man in the tracksuit was later seen standing still on a lawn, checking his phone, during a hail storm.
The situation above was seen from my bedroom window
Late at night. I really have to sleep. There are things to do tomorrow, I don't have time to be awake.
Yet it is during these hours that the world and all solutions to our problems seem so simple. Sometimes, when trying to sleep, a thought train leaves the station of my mind and slowly I start thinking of all my problems.
During these hours, the problems, they have obvious solutions. Especially the really personal problems. That thing I always wanted to discuss with him, it seemed so simple, I felt like I could just do it. I would get it over with. That awkward way in which I speak whenever I feel insecure, the fix was dead simple. I would just walk into situations and say the straight thing and be dead sure about it. I feel that tomorrow will be the dawn of the really secure me. Those problems with emotions that I don't know how to convey, those would be said out loud. There, in the security of my bed, there, in the darkness, I'm not afraid of doing so.
Dawn comes. I charge into the new day, tired from lack of sleep from the night before, but I still believe. But then the day slowly wears me down. I get into an insecure situation and I'm even more awkward than the day before. Feelings of anxiety strike me if I try to figure how how to approach him. The emotions I fail to convey are even more shrouded than before.
This was typed from the security of my bed, in the darkness. The time is 01:56. I feel very sure about these words, but I'm sure tomorrow has something else in store.