50. FOR YOU I WILL (NOT) WAIT TIL´ KINGDOM COME. (the very last postcard.)

I loved you so much it consumed me completely.
I hope I never get to live thru that again without anything to show for it.
I will always fight for love, even how many times I fail.
But I will never fall for you again, that´s the difference.
I've loved you in five different countries and three different timezones.
And that´s enough.
That´s more than enough for the most unbelivably time-consuming
lovestory and angony of my life.
I do not love you anymore.
I hope I never get to again.
I hope that you will be happy, but most of all,
I hope I will be happy.
Because this is not about you. It´s about me.
Finally I see that.

THE END, of the beginning.

49. leaving hard is full of pain, oh, the aching.

I belive you are not here with me anymore. I belive I am not where you are. I belive that you are somewhere else today, and yesterday and probably tomorrow.
I belive that it is ok for me to let you go,
and I belive that you are the essence and life of my teenage years.
I do belive I will see you again,
and one day the sky will burn and we´ll see if you need me then.
If not, that is ok too.
(Your silence still makes it impossible to forget you.)
Fivehundred and eighty-nine postcards are being removed from the sewar.
The streetlights are on and the roads still whispers the agonys of teenage love and fear.
Somewhere in a park there are two lost young souls discussing a band yet to be discovered by the general public. He is giving her his jeanjacket, whispering something in her ear. The coffemugs keep rolling down the sidewalks as the resturants keep taking orders, keep serving tables, still playing ”Lua” on repeat. And somewhere close, in a neighborhood, a young woman is finally telling her mother that she hates the smell of stew.

48. I don´t want to spend the rest of my days, running around, chasing your shadow.

Love is the weirdest thing. When you don´t have it you want nothing else.
When you have it you are so afraid of losing it.
And when you lost it you wish you´d never had it in the first place.

Well, I will not regret my love for anyone.
I said that I was thru living my life with an eraser in it, and I still am.

So what, if our love did'nt make it? I was not doomed to be without love for the rest of my life just beacuse I did not end up with the first expierence of love in my life!

The ducks sympathetic looks did'nt eat me up inside anymore, nor did the shinsongs.
The story of my life, no, the story of the first years of my life, exclusivly, could have ended with me realizing that my new lover was the one for me and that I would remain the rest of my days with his arms around my waist and his cherrytasting lips on my pillows.
But I choose to not go down that road.
Neither will Saint Simon have an defenitive role as the co-actor of my lovelife.
This is what I wanted to know for so long,
that I did not need them to re-define me,
cause I am not defined by other peoples temporary love for me.

I am defined by me, my actions, my moodswings, my mothers stew and nothing else.

As a teenager you think that your life will always be the same, the people in your life will always play the same roles, the same scripts will be said, day in and day out. But life is not predictable.

Life is not over the day you finish high-school or the day you leave your first love or the day you throw fivehundred and eighty-nine postcards out in the river.
Love is great, embrace it. Feel it in your bones, love the way it makes you feel and curse it´s existance when it lets you down. But never let it own you.

47. You tease the wild autum with lillys of green.

September 9th, the following year.
It is fall and my hair has once again grown down to my waist.
I am walking down the streets of my neighborhood, as I always do this time of year, alone and with the shins talking to me thru my ipod.
I am wearing your leatherjacket just for the sake that it is the only jacket I still own in this city.
The other ones had moved with me. Every year this time a year I think the same thoughts, walk the same miles and see the same faces smiling back at me.

The first chilly winds of the season blows by my naked arms, that are still somewhat brown as an souvenir from summerdays by the sea.
From every angle in my direction the leaves are falling, my hopes and dreams are changing with the seasons and the memories of past years this time a year brings back every single feeling of panic and abandonment in me. The fall has not been the same for years.

46. His side of the story.

Looking back at sunsets on the Eastside
We lost track of the time
Dreams aren't what they used to be
Some things slide by so carelessly

Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it

And someone is calling my name
From the back of the restaurant
And someone is playing a game
In the house that I grew up in
And someone will drive her around
Down the same streets that I did
On the same streets that I did

Smile like you mean it
Oh no, oh no no no
Oh no, oh no no no

(the killers - smile like you mean it)

She saw him one day, across the street.
He looked at her and smiled, and she knew that he ment it, that he had moved on aswell.

45. I belive in anything that brings you back, hauting me.

The park was empty of people and the clouds had turned darker above her head.
He was there, sitting in his Shins t-shirt watching the ducks give him sympathetic looks.

She sat down beside him and even though they had not met for months there was no need for introductions, hugs, kisses or something in particular to be said or done.
Even so he looked at her feet beside his and started to talk.

-When I came back this fall, I walked by the sewar, you know, where the water from the big bridge ends up before running out into the ocean?

-Yes.

- It was the oddest thing I´ve seen.
There were about fourhundred postcards in a bunch, cloging the water.

- Fivehundred. Fivehundred eighty-nine postcards.

- I figured it was you.

- You are correct then, mister.

- I´m sorry.

- It´s ok.

And it was. It takes time to neautralize a person you have felt almost every feeling towards.
But time makes you forget and it makes you realize what was real and what was not.
They were real, but in a way that legos are real for a 4-year old kid.
It´s more magical from the inside, at that time in your life.
Afterwards you see the scraps, the bad parts aswell as the good.

- How´s your girl nowadays? , she asked sincerly.

-I don´t think she´s my girl anymore, she never calls or anything.

- Yeah, I know the feeling. Sometimes people just stop. I belive that it goes in cycles.

Ouch, message recieved. I know that I was a jerk, and I´m sorry for it. I just. can´t.

- I know. It´s ok. You grow out of it, life goes on, you forget.

- Maybe you do.

- Yes.

- But I´ll never forget you. Or grow out of love for you. Don´t you know that you´re my first?
First love that is. You never forget your first love.

- You don´t?

- You do?

- I think I just did.



She was free. And it did´nt hurt, she did not feel empty or ashamed or embarrased of the words that had just came out of her mouth. She did not feel regret or sorrow, nor for her or for him. She knew that she was in his mind aswell. That was enough.

- Will you forget about me completely?

- Your silence makes it impossible to forget you completely, babe.

44. If you love me, won't you let me know.

December 27th, this year.
She walked the streets of her neighborhood for the first time in a long time, pulling the suitcases behind her, hoping that she had made the right desition.
Cause she was not one to do this for love or something else that is also silly and made-up.
She left her suitcases in the stew-filled apartament on the third floor, where she read the postcard. It was beautiful but they both knew that it was too late for it to matter.
She kept it, like an last souvenir from her adolescent love and adoration.
Followed her shoes to the park. Not much had changed in her city since she had left it.
The houses seemed brighter, the people looked nicer but the streets still revealed the stonecold misery of all the heartbroken lovers who had walked on them at 4.33 in the morning.

43. I'll try hard not to pretend.

I had lost everything.

It had been such a long time since that first time I'd try to communicate with the ducks on the wooden-bridge.
We had written hundreds of postcards to each other.
I had used up Fivehundred eighty-eight postcards.
At the bottom of my drawer I saw the last one. It was shiny, red and blue.
My hands where shaking as I took it up and grabbed a pen.
I wrote:
Sometimes, it's just not that easy to let go of the past.
But I'm willing to try.
I'm leaving you now cause we are drowning and our hands don't even meet.
Goodbye.
La (Laura).

I erased it several times, trying to come up for some other way to write what I've ment.
But the words kept stuck. I had pressed the pen so hard that it just would'nt go away.
So I filled in the words again.
Tossed away the eraser.
I don't want to have to use an eraser in my life ever again.

My hands were shaking as I grabbed the postcard and went outside.
My mom wondered why I was in such a hurry, she wasn't even making stew that night.
I tried to cover up my numb face as I dissapeard out the door with some phony excuse.
The city was dark.

The streetlights blinked and I ran and ran in a daze thru the streets of my neighborhood.




Sometimes you get exactly what you want.
I had that.
And what do you long for then?
Did it make me happy, did he make me happy?
Yes.

I was happy.
Then I stopped being happy.
And after that I had nothing left.
No longing nor happiness.
So I had no way out but this.

But I will not mourn for you.

I had two options.
The first one was to hide under the bridge with the ducks and taste green in my mouth for the rest of my life.

No.

The second and final one was to let you go and for you to let me go.
It just took more time for me.

This is the last postcard I dedicate you and your upperlip and our world.

He had changed.
Had I changed?

How could you not change?
As we move foward, as we grow up for real, we change.
It was a scientific fact.
He had told me that.
It made much more sense when he said it.
I tried to belive it.
I really, really tried.
Had I changed?

Maybe I was too stubborn to realize it.
Maybe he only saw my inperfections and I could just see his.
We could never see our own.

I held all the fivehundred and eighy-nine postcards in my arms.
It was spring.
My hair had grown down to my waist.
When I met him it nearly touched my shoulders.

I had the last postcard in my back pocket.

The sun was up, it was sunday and the city was still sound asleep.
I ran thru the streets of my neighborhood. The smell of stew was in me.

My mom had'nt made stew for at least a year. I could still smell it.
I ran thru the streets of my neighborhood holding fivehundred eighty-nine postcards in my arms.
They were not originally mine. It was his postcards, the ones he had sent to me.
I was out of postcards.
It was the last one that I had written my goodbye on.
I ran up to the big, metal bridge where we had spend an early morning just like this one.
But this time I was alone, I had my own leather-jacket on and I was not acting silly.
I was dead serious.

I stared at the raising sun.

It stared back at me.

I stared at the clouds. They were shaped like erasers.
I hated them for it.
Under me the flood was passing.

Millions and millions of gallons of water under me.
Fishes, boats and rocks trapped under the eternal horizon that was facing me in the distance.
I leaned out at the edge.

My arms were directly over the freezing water.
The postcards feared for their lives.

I tossed them out in the air.
The wind from the sea passed at exactly the same moment.
Five hundred eighty-nine postcards where flying in front of the sunrise.
The memories of my adolescent love was giving me it's final spectacle before fading away.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Even though they were going to die in a matter of seconds, the postcards were free.
One by one they fell into the icecold waves.
My infatuation had just been murdered.
Goodbye love. Goodbye adoration.

You left my hands shaking and the ducks wondering.


It was then she let the postcards go.






It was that night she made them all slip away and moved to another city, made the final piece of the puzzle complete.

I stood at the central station with all my life packed into three bags.
I tried to dile your number. I did not call. I could'nt. Of course.
I'm a coward. I admit it. I'm used to it.
You can't expect anything else.

The train came to take me away from the resturant, the ducks, the bridge, the murdured postcards, The Shins, the green rain, the thin leather jackets and the pure, coldhearted misery.
I stepped on the first frame of my new life. I erased your phone number and decided that from now on nothing in my life would be about you. The doors closed. I was off.

But in life, nothing is ever complete, not that easy.
She moved, took the train to new destinys, new lives and what not.
It was time well spent. It was time away from all the love and misery and mess she had poured out on her city. This was a brand new city, with no history.
Her mother called. She said she was cleaning the apartment and had found a postcard of some kind under one of the rugs in the hallway. She said that it was adressed to her, Laura.
She felt the chills all over her body. What would it say?
During the holidays she travelled home.
She spent all her time on the train wondering of what could have been.
It was an ridiculous thougth.

42.I belive love will soon come to me, it´s building up in me.

I have managed to realize that the sum of people who actually leave your life for good are very few.
The most of them live on, in a different way, in another city or like a silent explosion in disguise. They live on, just like I do.

If he forgets me I am not going to dissapear.
I am still here living my life crowded in with 6 billion other people in the world.
So is he.
If I manage to meet him as all these similar lives all over the planet keeps going on living, breathing and bumping into other lives, then so be it.
But the way we were then, when we were young and in love and senseless, giving ducks lessons in sympathy, that time has died in the presence.
Every now and then we try to deny our past.
Maybe it´s too hurtful to realize that we in the past felt so strong
for the people who would come to hurt us so much in the future.


My new lover found out that neither my heart or my skin, my lips or my eyes were dedicated to him.
That I had lost it that night at the party, someone had told him what he knew all along.
That I was pure misery. That I would hurt him. He said he didn´t care, that it was ok but I knew that it was not.
He said he´d call. He did not call. I do not blame him and I do not blame myself either.

41. And it hurts with every heartbeat.

(back at the party, facing him once again and when he said ”i still love you, you know, i will never take back those words in the park.”)

He continued;

-But I could see that you moved on and so I decided to do that aswell. And it was fine, I was happy, I guess, but then I saw you with him and I just lost it. Why did I do that?

- Someone once told me that ”sometimes, it's just not that easy to let go of the past.”
she said.
- But we should try it.
- Yeah, we should.
- I think we kind of are.
- Me too.
(...)
- But I still miss you.
- Me too.

They looked into each others eyes and decided not to be sane so they left together.
All the sense ran out of them and the night took over, turning them back into who they where then, temporarly.
By the mornings clean light she woke up, stared him right in the face and realized that maybe neither was he so the man she wanted to wake up next to.
He awoke, looked into her eyes and she could see that he was struggling with both a hangover, aswell as the toughest desiction in the history of modern love.

He whispered:
- this is it, isn´t it?

-I think this was it a long time ago, we´re just to slow to figure it out.

- I don´t know what I want.
- I don´t know either.
- Maybe I want you.
- But I don´t think I want you anymore.

It was mean and it was hurtful but she knew the second those words came out of her mouth that they were, in fact, true.

A drunken kiss or a song of despair or both or nothing or everything,
everything, every single day for the rest of their lives would not be enough. She was free to waste away alone.
But she was not alone, she was not alone at all and therefore that night she spent with her arms wrapped around her new lovers waist and her nose laying next to his neck. It was were she needed to be.

the truth:
It was not you that had my heart in a
mess, it was me.

40. In another time the sky will burn and we will see if you need me then.

It was real. Everything I had wanted for so long stood in front of me asking for a second chance. Someone that I had been obsessing of for so long, I had been dreaming of him during the nights and looking for his footsteps during the day. He stood there, with a new look in his eyes, ready but still very secure of himself, asking me to fall for him all over again.

I punctured my heart for you. I could not breath for months.
You made me so so angry and depressed and happy at the same time.

I missed you for so long.

For such a long time that I forgot who I was, where I lived, who I used to talk to and what I used to do.
Your love ate me up. It swallowed me whole and consumed me completely.
I had never felt that kind of heartbreak in my entire life and I dont think that I´d survive it a second time around.

That´s what I would have said to him if I was a braver version of myself. But I´m not.
I am a coward and maybe I will always be. I don´t care, actually.
Even though I could not say the words thru my mouth they shined clearly from my eyes.

39. The Comeback-effect/ As subtile as an earthquake.

I had neutralized him.

It had taken an entire summer of banging my fist against my heart just to make it start to work again, it involved nights of a fever-esce light and desperation as I said your name over and over again, thinking in my night-time madness that it would make you appear from your shadows, from your absence. I needed to see you but you were´nt here.

So day by day I started to slowly count you out of everything.
Thought a little less about the boys who would walk by me on the street, on the bus, in school, who wore the same kind of leather jacket as you. Started the neutralization-process.
To neautralize someone you once have loved you must first hate them for a bit.
I did that too, after I was done with self-pitty and hinding beneath the covers.
When I met my new lover I was in the state of rage. I hated you.
Nothing would break your heart more that seeing me with another.
Someone better, someone like him.

For a long time I hated you until finally I realized that you did not take part of the hate cause you were not there to get affected by it.
So I realized, you´re neutral ground to me now.
That went well, very well I might add.

So came that day when you moved back once again, and everything I had just so firmly belived, that solid foundation, was rocked to the core. A crack. Earthquake. It was no life-changing events you participated in, it was just the simple fact that I could see you, in front of me. I could look at the back of your head and stare, like I used to. Wondering if you knew that you were being observed. And by whom.

That air. That sudden place that filled the entire space we were standing in that was screaming, shouting out our story to everyone that would listen. Nobody did, of course.
We looked into each others eyes and even though it had been months, nothing had really changed.

We were still where we had left us before. Time and space and calendars did not exist in that space. The only thing that existed were us, and our history.
The feeling was so innmese that it took me quite some time to come back to the present.
When I stepped out of that box of air and our world, reality came across me.

Here, in the residence of time, place and calendars, our lives had continued and even if he felt the same for me I had a new lover and a whole new set of love and problems to go with them.
I think you knew, right away.
I could see in your eyes that you had admitted defeat.
I could just sense it the same way that you sensed that the next time we sat in silence I was not observing you.

I miss you.

Once, my mother asked me about that new man in my life.
She said: do you love him, that boy that comes over here nowadays?
-no.
-are you sure you don´t have feelings for him?

-mom, I left in love with Simon and I returned in love with Simon.
There was noone else in my heart besides him.
( In my bed maybe, on my lips, sure. But in my heart, it was always him, always.)
- and does he still reside within that heart of yours?-
- ...

38. OH, when the moon shakes.

HE HAD AN OTHER.
I met her and her eyes glowed.

Everything you ever told me were pure lies, I could tell just by looking at her.
She was gorgeous and I hated her for it.
My face was turning green and to stop me from acting as a bad ripoff of the Hulk I said:
”nice too meet you and excuse me I have to go work the room, bla bla bla”.
I had never felt so bad in my entire life.

I saw you together, perfectly synchronized and I wondered if I had ever ment anything to you.
If I was just an hidden time in your life, something that you already had forgotten and moved on from, completely. You were more handsome than ever, and now you were hers.

I hated you for that. I hated you so much that when you came over to say hello and to give me the sympathetic look I once had taught you I ran away from you, into his arms.
To him, who was always ready to kiss me, no questions asked. I felt that you where a little uncomfortable about that fact but I could not help but convince myself that it was just in my head.
All the dreams of you where only in my head.

She is left alone for a moment and drinks very expensive champange from very cheap glasses.
Or maybe it was the other way around, she cant recall, she can´t remember. At one moment she sees the green-blue eyes moving towards her and they both think about that night at the empty resturant when she had that bottle of french expensive wine tumbling around in her stomach.
Suddently, there is no way out and before she knows what is going on he is stroking her chin, whispering ”Lua” in her ear and she´s moving her hands against his, her chin against his neck, hands fingers lips and hair in one big drunken mess as the room spins around as he kisses her.

They are suddenly surrounded by sympathetic looks.
She grabs her stiletto heels and is on her way up when he finally says something to her.

- I still love you, you know. I will never take back those words in the park.

37.But I guess that you where always on my mind.

Before, nothing ment everything to me.
A smile, just to talk, someones hand close to mine.

Now, everything means nothing to me.
No dedicated songs, no shows of affection nor words to hold dear.

With you, I could wait happily in love for a lifetime,
with him, I can´t spend a day happy,
cause I'll keep waiting for you for all my life.


This August, 16th, a party is taken place on his side of the city and there are four people involved in the spectacles of misery, love and confusion taking place this evening.

She is there, with her new lover guarding her side, waiting for one move and walking around with too high heels above the ground.

He is there, with her, they are at the other end of the room but she can still see every colour being reflected in his blue-green eyes. The ducks are outside, giving their sympathetic looks from much too far away.

36. When you love his sneezes more than anyone elses kisses.

I do not think that you had something to do with my love for you.

It sounds ridiculous to say, but it is in fact as close to the truth that I´ll ever get.
As time passed, my love for you and the actual human being that is you became more and more seperate things. My love for you was something unrational, without any basis to exist in reality.

It had been such a long time since I last saw you that the images my mind was obsessing on was maybe not even really pictures of you, but of someone I had created on my own, somehow, something that kept me in love, my DIY illusion. I realized that it was odd, it was not even logical.

I truly knew that when I met you again you would not be like the ideal of my teenage-aching mind. But somehow it did not matter. It did not even cross my mind that it would be some kind of problem to be in love with you for the rest of my days still realizing that I did not feel any real affection for you anymore.
I did not want a relationship with you, I did not want your love, your caress or anything at all.
I had made up my mind that I could not focus on anyone else than me right now and we both would agree that this was the right thing to do. We would.
I just wanted someone to keep my heart warm and full. Without your illusion, it would be empty and when my heart is empty I tend to dissapear a bit. It becomes fragile aswell, like an eggshell that breaks easily.
You protected it, without even being aware of it.

So I spent what seemed like an eternity watching you from the distance. And every time I would see you, you would break my heart. And I would let you. Because even though it would hurt so incredibly much to see your hands without mine wrapped around them, your lips without my lips nailed together, it would hurt one billion times more to let you go.
Because what are you left with if not hope?

If not that sometime in the future when we would be wiser and greater and better versions of ourselves and not self-destructive teenagers with their hearts in their throughts we could work things out for real and then I would have you for eternities to spare.
I didn´t thought that would happen though, but it saved my heart to keep that illusion for a while.

35. No, no, I never did.

Some months had passed and I was fed up with living my life on bleached-out postcards and past emotions. The time had made me realized that my new lover was the kind that never would leave, never would puncture my heart the way you (who I don´t think about anymore and who I dont remember that once said that would never leave me, ever) once did.
And I had started to love him for that.
He had less red lips than you and was not as tall but he made me breakfast every morning and kissed all my sorrows away.
I was happy,
Truly happy that I had finally made you some kind of neutral ground.

You´re switzerland to me now. Maybe at first it was denial but one of those nights that I used to spend in his arms thinking non stop about you, I caught myself not leaving at the break of dawn, not running around looking for scraps of your love for me under my furniture and not reading your postcards 53 times a day. I was staying in those arms, kissing back at those not as red lips, breathing the same air as him for hours without thinking of broken hearts of our teenage lives and tearstained pillows every morning.

He could see that she was writing something down on the back of an old recipt as she woke up and thought that he was still sleeping.
She kissed him goodbye, but this time he felt like she ment it.
No sham-relationship or something to hide.
He read the note the second she closed the door behind her.

”I want you to know this: I would be with you all day to talk to you, call you every second your eyes stepped into my thougths, witch would be always, I would text you for all eternity. But, I don´t. I can´t. Cause I´m afraid that it will be the same the same mess forever, and all over again and I can´t do that I can´t do that again. Cause you seem great, YOU ARE JUST NOT SOMEONE TO THROW AWAY.”

34. Realisations of inevitable truths.

In the middle of the night I climbed out of his arms and ran all the way to your house in the morning light. Threw silent rocks at your window, hoping that you did not hear me and still that you did, somehow. Even though you did not even live there anymore.
Crap. I still love you, don´t I?

33. It's hard to look back when you're all alone.

Last april, the 5th at 1.33 pm

You can hear childrens laughter in the background.
They are still wearing their wintercoats and the snow has just fallen all over their city.
She brings him to a park and now he´s being chased by little kids, lauging and kidding around, like he used to do. The kids finally trip him and he falls down on his majestic back as she runs up to him in her beige winterboots and used-up jeans.

-I am in love with you.
(I am so freaking unbelivably breathtakingly in love with you,
you´re all I think about everyday all day for the last couple of months and the fact that
I couldn´t tell you has been breaking my heart ever since, but I don´t care, I don´t care if my heart is shredded to pieces cause this feeling is all I have left now, it has become part of me.)

He says it with no warning, no fireworks in the sky and no orchestra of lovesongs.
They are just two overgrown kids in a sandbox and she is standing beside him listening to his heartbeats and making sure that he´s not hurt.
-”Don´t say it if you don´t mean it. You don´t have to say it, you know. I´m fine anyhow.”
A lie.

-I know I don´t have to say it and that´s why I am saying it. I am in love with you and I want you to love me back, even if it´s just a little bit. No, wait, I take it back, I want you to love me more than a little bit, and I won´t take no for an answer!

-I am in love with you too, sissy.

Good, he said.
Yeah, she agreed.

They layed there for some seconds, minutes, hours, days, she can´t recall he can´t remember when they´re laying there in an icecold sandbox watching the snowflakes fall to melt on the ground.

32. I might aswell jump in a lake - it´s wrong – it´s too late – you don´t love me.

It would have been better if not I had have you inside my brain the entire time.
Wondering about your words, your stonecold heart and those twiches you make with your eyes when you smile.

It was 2.33 in the afternoon and all the memories of you started to stick on my skin.
I would look at my left hand and the memory of your hand in my hand that time on the rollercoasters last summer would come running agaist me and my present time in 200 miles an hour.

I turned around and watched him sleep, could not help to compare him with you.
As your face was tattoed to my mind I could might as well entertain myself with it.
His upperlip was smaller and not as red. His nose was not as big as yours but also had freckles on it.
His eyebrows were brown, yours were hazel.
How come I´d remember those things and not your middle-name?
His ears were a little bit bigger than yours. And he had too perfect teeth.
You had crooked teeth.
He talked about The Rolling Stones like you talked about The Shins.


No, I was done with this for the day.

I Got up quietly and left the apartment around 5.57 in the morning and walked thru the streets of my new neighborhood. It was some kind of magic in the air, the streets smelled like fresh bread and it seemed like everyone was doing laundry and sprinkling cinnamon all around.
The air was grey and mystic as the haze entered the city you had made me fall in love with.

I still can´t belive your not here with me anymore.
I still can´t belive I am not where you are.
I still can´t belive that you are somewhere else today,
and yesterday and probably tomorrow.

The prescense of her new lover was not strong enough for her to just forget all the memories with him, so as she layed there wrapped in another man´s arms,
her mind began to wander back to the time when her former lover was her whole world.

31. It feels like noone is here for me.

I was in his arms, felt his cherrytasting lips against my neck and his whole apartment had another scent than yours.

Of course it had.

It was a good thing.

30. I wish that without me your heart would break.

I think that you were aching aswell.
I dont want to belive that I was alone in this mess we sometimes called love.
In one way it would be easier, cause I could just convince myself that I was a fool in love,
for the hundreth time, alone.
But I knew that one time in history your heart had skipped some beats for me and all I wanted was to make history repeat itself.

So I would sit alone during the nights, not able to fall asleep until 2.33, when I always would feel a twitch in my left hand. At that point something would always make my eyelids heavier than led, knocking me almost unconciously to sleep.

Sometimes I think I only imagined feeling it, but still, somehow I knew it was true.

I felt so much for you and some days I thought it would never go away.
That I would spend the rest of my days wandering around the streets of my neighborhood trying to make my runned-down old heart work properly.

Banging my fist against my heart trying to make it start beating again.
Trying to make it not fear itself anymore.

I did not know what to do, my heart was still stone cold for the moment and so I decided to walk over to the boy that was not afraid to love me. The one that really showed what he felt.
He made me sick. I´m not like that, you´re not like that. But you´ve left me no choice.

I worked in a clockstore. One day I decided to set all the clocks to exactly 2.33. When I was done I felt twitches all over my body.
This was one of my attempts to make you remember me.

29. In your arms / I close my eyes.

I woke up the next morning in his arms, once again.
Felt sick, got dressed and ran out the door.
I never say goodbye.
I walked thru the streets in the morninglight. The whole world was quiet, the streets were empty of people and everywhere I looked, there you where.
In the presence of music-posters, streets that we used to run up and down on, ducks with sympathetic looks and used coffeemugs rolling around the streets in the morninglight. I was listening to my ipod, the song ”lua” was playing and I though of that time in that place in that particular moment when I really fell for you.
It was the night that would later be known as the beginning of the end. It was like you could see that I was falling and therefore decided that you had to leave me before we destroyed each other completly.

28. Pulling your puzzles apart.

One time he came over to her house.
The rooms were filled with postcards and the subtile smell of stew.
The postcards where everywhere. Under the chairs, taped to the refrigirator.
Stacks of them on the kitchentable, and one that he thought had fallen into the sink by mistake.
The postcard was wet but he could still make out the words. ”forget me.” it said.
And then some other words he couldn´t quite make out.

She had tried to destroy it without being a firehazard. The feeling of lost love had changed into furious rage that was pumping thru her icy veins. She grabbed him by the hand, her perfect substitute, her nothing. Tried to kiss the former love out of her life once and for all.

In the morning she awoke by the sunlight rising thru her open windows.
Her nothing was sitting by the bed and as she reached for his back she discovered that he was reading all of her postcards.
Every word she had saved from her former lover.

-I don't understand this, do you still love him?
he said it with newly grown jealosy shining thru his darkgreen eyes.
Jealous of that he was not the one her heart had been beating so strong for.
He was not the apple of her eye.

He continued:
-you're trouble and misery, but I´m falling for you. I love you.

She had waited for so long for someone to say those words to her again but now that they came out it was from the wrong mouth, the wrong voice, and the wrong, icecold heart that it was dedicated to.

They sat there, he was waiting for a response, a reaction of some kind, something in her eyes that showed that she was aware of his affections and adored them as much as he adored her.
IT IS THE WORST CASE SCENARIO, she thought as the words were slippning out of his mouth and into her mind.

For as long as she had remembered this was what she wanted. He was perfect, she truly adored him but in some way, no matter how hard she tried to convince her icecold heart to unfreeze for this boy it seemed to be permenantly frozen. It was not an eggshell-heart but this was not a better alternative in any way. She banged continiously her fist against her heart in the desperation to feel something she so truly wanted to feel, but nothing worked.

She looked into his eyes but the butterflies in her stomach were on a permanent vacation.
By the look of his face, her butterflies were vacationing in his stomach.

27. If you tell me you love me I will crush you again.

There was no turning back at this point now. He was laying by the bed running his fingers thru her hair. Even though she had always been stone cold to him,
he could see himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her.
When he asked her what they where she would shook her head decisevly and say:

Nothing, we´re nothing at all.
He could see that her mind was somewhere else but her lips where rigth there so he settled for less. Or more. He couldn't quite tell yet.

26. Love´s an excuse to get hurt and to hurt. Do you like to hurt? I do, I do! - THEN HURT ME.

You were everywhere. I had not seen you for months but I still remember your mighty apperance as I kissed those cherrytasting lips of his. He whispered sweet drunken nothings in my ear, I lauged but he looked at me straight and was dead serious. So I pretended to be aswell.


She remebered his breath that tasted like cherries and that his five-a-clock-shadow had made marks all around her lips. Noone was to blame. She loved this feeling. Or so she thought. The sun rised on the wrong side of the city and she knew what she had done but her stonecold heart had no need for an excuse anymore. She wanted more and he kissed her, he kissed her on the lips exacly 23 times. This scene would repeat itself about 4-5 times a week for a long time. Her hair had grown down her waist. She layed beside him with her face pressed against the pillow and as he awoke he started to kiss her neck and shoulderblades.
The feeling was inmense and slightly breathtaking.
She turned her head and faced him. Ran her fingertips against his beard that had grown for just about a week. It was itchy, black and she was amusing herself with it. He smiled and looked into her eyes and she could see that he had fallen for her. He continued to kiss her everywere, making sure that he did not leave an inch of her skin unkissed. He was kissing the tip of her nose when she finally had enough and pulled him closer, kissing his lips for the second or hundred time.
The strings of morninglight were piercing thru her windows and they lauged as they knew that nothing was forever even if it might aswell been eternities that they layed there beside each other breathing the air of future nostalgia. They stopped breathing. Kissed a little bit more. He was leaving for the week, leaving her and somehow she convinced herself that this was the last time she would see him.
Even if he was her substitute, her nothing and she was still obsessing on her everything supposoably waiting for her on the other side of the horizons she thought to herself that she could still give him a final spectacle. Making anything she wanted out of this moment. This moment that maybe never would come back. This time when no confusion, mindgames or uncertainties existed. It was just him, who was crazy about her and she, who knew that he would follow her every move.

25. I WANT A BOY THAT´S SO DRUNK HE DOSEN´T TALK.

I woke up several hours again in his arms and realized it felt nice to have someone near and someone to hold dear, even if it just was for the moment. I did not think of it much as an romantic gesture, for me it was just the simple fact that we both where alone and I needed to be taken care of that night. I awoke and turned around, he had pushed me into a corner in his sleep and now I was pressed between the wall and his arms. Even though I did not want to be alone I suddently felt trapped and all the angst I had tried to repress came over me with just one single breath. When we got up to have breakfast we did not even look at each other, it was just like that night had never existed. I didn´t mind, I was never ment for him and he was never ment for me and I hoped that he felt the same way.

He made me breakfast. It was great and he even volunteered to do the dishes afterwards. It was in theory, just lovely. But I could not even so much as look at him without getting naseus. He smiled at me and wanted to look deep into my eyes but I stopped him because just the thought made my insides want to burst.

The butterflies that first had been so persistent with their prescense was now screaming with their abscense.

I was trapped in my own mess and there was no way out of it. For some reason I spent that whole time thinking about you, thinking if one could still call something like this cheating even though I was aware that it couldn´t be.

I had not been in love with you for so long.
I had moved on.

You had moved on aswell. There was not even one single scrap of love left between us but I would have still wanted it to be you rather than him.
During breakfast I felt his feet moving towards mine under the table. I could have stopped them, but I was feeling alone again and somehow his prescense at the breakfasttable did me good, it stopped the angst he had started earlier.

I stayed there all day, we talked, but I just had you on my mind. He held my hand, whispered sweet nothings into my ear and kissed my cheek. We talked about music and art and everything else but I could not for the life of me get you off my mind.

Tattoed to my mind, when I looked at his eyes I just saw yours. Everywhere I looked, there you where, smiling towards me and constantly breaking my heart. It was drowning me in angst and heartache, so when he offered me a drink I was not one to say no. We sat together for hours, listening to our own voices and I was drinking more and more to get my mind off you. I drank red wine cause that is the only thing that could make me take my mind of love. It was just what I needed at the time. We sat outside, with bottles that surrounded us, on the wet grass in the sunset. Lauging, talking. I can´t seem to remember every detail of that time, I just remember that the smell of spring was in the air and that he smelled like cherries. Somehow my hand had fallen into his and he was reaching for my winecoloured lips in our drunken daze.

He kissed me and I did not fight back.
I wanted him to because with every kiss I was making you dissapear.
Or so I belived.

24.Kissing the lipless.

I was talkning in my sleep and I wondered what it ment.

We spent that entire night together, our hands and feet braided into the others, and even though he was kind of good looking, intresting and we had talked for hours about art, music and life I could not help but think that he was so not the man that I wanted to braid my fingers with.

Even so, our fingers were crossed together for eternitys and even if my appearence was subtile and cold my whole insides were on fire.
That was the first time I had ever felt something as strong as that feeling.

They were like fever-esce strikes of lightning inside my stomach, making me nauseaus every fifth minute. Hours afterwards I was burning up inside and my heart made double skips every second. For every second his hand was in my hand the feeling got worse.

I´d had my whole life to prepare myself for this moment, and I could of so easily moved away my hand from his, but
I just, couldn´t. And that is all. I couldn´t.

I am strong but there is still only so much strength a person can have before losing a little bit of sense.
He had told me some days ago that there was nothing going on between us and that was just fine with me but now I knew that that was one of the few times that he lied.

There was so much between us that it took all of my strength not to go further,
not to take it
were my body wanted
to take it
but were my mind soul and heart
never would had forgiven me for.

23. I have never met a girl like that that makes my life shine so bright and clear, I wish I never held her dear, never held her dear.

Even though it was her original idea it was he who had made the first move. He could see her broken, shattered heart and wanted to instantly heal it. She looked into his boyish eyes but all she could see was her former lover. As he looked into her confusing eyes, an air of desperation and insanity went upon her. They kissed for minutes, hours, days.
They can´t recall, they can´t remember.
She decided there and then that she was thru with eternal love.
She felt absolutely nothing for this boy and she never wanted to. To stop her heart from bleeding away she made it hard as stone so that no one could ever break it again.

He leaned foward and started to kiss her neck.
He was in a daze and even though she was concious of every minute of that night there was still some particular daze that went over her too. He moved closer and closer until their lips met, and he kissed her for what seemed as an eternity.

When you take the love out of kissing, what do you have left?
Lips?
and afterwards she was shaking non-stop
without any reasonable explanation.
When you take away the heartbeats from hearts
what do you have left?
Dead organs?

That night she considered seriously not letting anybody kiss her ever again.

It was a strange feeling being so close to someone without the butterflies, without the heartbreaking thought of that at any second he could change his mind and move his lips away from mine.

It was particulary strange to lay next to someone you did not count every single heartbeat of.
It was strange but surprisingly not hard to do at all.

It was an reassurance. The warmth of another human being was better than a malfunctioning radiator next to the bed in wicht I had spent the last couple of months hiding under.
He looked into her eyes, smiling, waiting for a response. Her brain knew what to do, to smile back, to show him some emotion whatsoever but her heart did not recive the message. She only stared back at him, with icecold eyes. He ignored the gesture and stayed close. As she was in denial he aswell was choosing not to see her empty, beaten down heart.
Choosing to belive something else.

22. Oh come closer show me better times.

The phone rang. The signals where the sweetest melodies I think i've ever heard. I closed my eyes and listened to them for a while, with my eyes shut I could almost taste the lips that always would tease me with a kiss from the distance. I looked at the phone and waiting to see his name and number, my eyes did not follow the truth and I picked up the phone ready to hear his words again, finally, I would get my fix, my addiction had returned. It was not his voice that echoed thru the phone, it was not his name and number that shined on the display. It was another man, a man that I knew but never payed much attention to. I was paralyzed as he started to talk to me. He wanted to invite me to a big party his brother was hosting and wondering if I could come. When?

-Tonight.

-I don´t feel so good.
-Yes you do, you feel just fine. How long will you isolate yourself from the world and stay inside with only your reflection in the mirror?

I knew he had a point. I knew that I was forced to leave this room someday. My hair was a mess, my eyes where black and my hand had been stuck to the phone for days. Even my bones hurt.
I was fisically heartbreaking, fisically aching.

I took the longest shower in the history of modern love and loss and braided my thick and torn hair.

21. Take me back to heartache and complane, bring me down, knock me down./ I WANT A LOVER I DONT HAVE TO LOVE.

I needed this to stop, our I would die of desperation and sillyness.
I would become paranoid and I could not live my life under my covers waiting for an addiction that was not coming back.

Still, when I lived,
when I walked,
dreamt,
ate,
slept,
drank
and
ran,
I still just could not for the life of me get you out of my mind.

I used to count the times that I thought about you during a day, but could'nt, I could not count that high. I ran out of fingers, toes, even hairs.

Even though I was deep beneath countless layers of covers, pillows and blankets my whole body was freezing, from inside my heart and veins out to the tips of my toes. It did not matter how warm the room was, how many cups of tea with milk and honey I drank, my toes were still freezing and my heart was still stone cold, freezing to death.I hid deeper beneath the cover.

Started to think about heartaches that had passed.
How long time it took.
How alone I had felt.
This time was going to be different.
I knew that even though I could not get him out of my head I could get someone else in my bed.

20. I love your depression and I love your double-chin.

Today, 12.09 PM
I do not love you today. Today, my love is all out of stock. Maybe it´s temporary, maybe it´s forever. I just know that today I woke up feeling realistic and you are not someone I want to give my heart to only so you can eat it up and leave it like an eggshell.

Today you are not the apple of my eye
today you are not the object of my affection
today you are close not to being even a friend
today for some unexplainable reason I do not feel love or obsession or adoration for you, at all.
I don´t even know if I want to see you.

Maybe it´s a form of a self-protection mechanism of this heart of mine.
I do not know, and I am not keen on finding out either. It just feels so nice not to be dragging around my big malfunctioning heart all over the place again today. Maybe tomorrow it will start all over again, but for today, I can breath.

The plan lasted two days, five hours and 47 minutes.

Then I was back to wondering how your day was going, what you were wearing.
If it was your green shirt. If it was your favorite shoes. If it was those gloves I bought you.
Or, I didn´t buy them, they were originally mine. They were pink and actually to small for you but I knew that it was chilly outside and as you left my apartament that morning I thought it was a fair trade as I had already taken your white shirt. You made me swore I would never take it off. I made you swore the same with the gloves.And those were pink.Really pink.

19. But babe, I forgot, you sleep alone, only with god on your side.

She lived in her covers for days.

Her friends would sing her songs about past lovers but she hated them.
She hated them cause they where happy.
She was not.
They where talking about the hurt of former lovers with smiles on their faces and rings on their fingers.
Such hippocrits. Heartache is not heartache when you've got someone.
Then it´s just.. heart.

She convinced herself that no one had ever felt what she´d felt and now that the feeling was gone she wanted it to return more than ever. That feeling. Listening to the shins on the radio she remebered his every move, every step, every word that came out of his mouth.
To be desired had been her only wish for so long.

18. Go back to your dark clouds babe.

There was one time in my life when I used to think that love was something that came naturally, most likely in your early teen years and would stay forever, and the boy you fell for would be amazing and beautiful and completely sweep you off your feet and you would be his and only his forever. And he would make you breakfast in bed and always tell you he loved you and that he missed you when you came home.

My father did that. Every single day when my mom came home he would hug her, no matter how angry or tired she was, and he would hold her close, even though she was furious at him, and tell her that he had missed her all day. She would never say it back. She never would.
I think that in the end he did not care that much that she didn't. Maybe he knew she did. Or maybe he knew she didn't, not as much as him, but he did not care, he just wanted her to know. He wanted her to know that she would always be the apple of his eye.

I would wonder what she had done to deserve him. I knew, she was amazing, she so deserved him. But I could not help to feel so angry with her for having a boy to tell her he loved her every day and I did not have anyone. And I kept imaging that if I just had one I would never break his heart, I would never make him sad, I would just want to hold him in my arms forever and bake him cookies and write him letters and kiss him all over, all the time. I would want to grow old in his arms and when we would lie there, in a hospitalbed ,too old to talk, almost too old to breath even, I would keep him in my arms and kiss his forehead.

And we would know, that this was forever, and that I adored him and that he adored me.
We would take our last breath and wisper sweet words to each other and we would hear them, even thru the air and thru our non-functioning hearingaids.

Was I a fool to belive in everlasting love?
Was I a fool to think that what I had with the boy on the other side of the oceans was love, or that, one day, it would turn out to be love? Was my mind once again playing tricks on me and my heart blindfolding me, was it therefore I would get short of breath everytime I even just saw an picture of him?

17. The awarness that you did not love me back.

I can´t say that it was heartbreaking, cause it was not that dramatic.
It was not like it came as a shock, I had seen the scraps of the inevitable truth for a long time.
I studied your every move, word and look to the point that I finally realized that I was not in your mind the way you were in mine.
I smiled. Inside, I screamed.

I was so very tired of that, of falling in love without the assurance of love in return.

It could be one of the most terrifying things in this world.
Forget wars, economic crisis, world hunger, weapons of mass destruction.

Every soul on this planet walks around with their hearts in hesitation, in despair, in fear of what impact their actions will have on the object of their affections heart.

Sometimes it ends because some were brave enough to face the fear and put their heart out on a limb and risk it´s fall. And suceeded. Rescued their heart and made it ten times it´s original size.

Some know that the outcome will be good and their hearts are rescued aswell. But those hearts only grow twice as big. Cause they were not in it for the big price, the big win, the win it all or lose it all. They played with a safe bet.
Some people consider them cowards.
I consider them lucky.

Then there are the ones that never get the courage to try, cause they dread that the outcome of putting out their hearts on dirty metaphorical concrete roads for everyone to walk all over them will be crushing.

Their hearts will become like eggshells. They will live in fear and walk around with their hearts on satin pillows carefully moving away from crushing hands. But by putting your heart away for so long it makes impossible for anyone with good intentions to get near it aswell.
So they get to live with their eggshellhearts for the rest of their lives, alone.

I belive I will part of this group.
...Love´s some kind of lottery where you scratch and see what´s underneath it´s sorry, just one cherry, play again, get lucky...
Conor was singing those words thru my stereo and I realized that he had a point. Love´s like a lottery, you can bet everything you have and win the big price. Or you can bet all your life´s savings and lose everything. Or you can play safe and win the consolationprice.

It´s not fair, I don´t even gamble.
I´d rather be working for a paycheck that waiting to win the lottery.
that´s Conor´s words aswell.

16. I belive you took the best of me.

I can not write about his side of this story cause I dont know it. I can not know the true story cause everytime I try, it always turns out to be unrealistic lies.

You can not stay neutral when it comes to matters of the heart. It is impossible, even less when it is matters that involves your own heart. Either you will be to stubborn to realize that the other person has human faults aswell, or you will be too weak to realize that it was not all your fault. Every person has their bruises with love. Some more, some less. I do not know witch of those groups should consider themselves the most lucky. The beaten-up ones for having such an inmense sense of experience or the easily bruised ones for still having faith in the godness and love of people.

I called myself stupid for even inventing ridiculous excuses on your behalf and crawled under the covers, despereate to get a new kick from my addiciton. You, that is. But you where not there, I could not get high on your invented words and your whisperings sounds from the other side of the country.


Sometimes, while walking down the streets of my neighborhood, in the town where I have resided my entire adolescent life I wonder how many lovestories that were in the making just watching the people walking down beside me.

There were an old couple, holding hands maybe just for the sake that it was the only way for them to not fall flat on their bums. Or maybe that was the obvious reason, but the underlying reason was that they had lost everything besides each other.

Their parents were long gone, their grandparents aswell, many of their friends, brothers, sisters, former lovers, former friends. Maybe even sons and daughters. They where holding on tight because they treasured each other so highly that they knew that by letting go they where letting go of the only thing that they truly had left in this life.

I knew that I was probably wrong, that that was not their lifestory at all, they had maybe met as 30-year olds, both bitter from losing their adolescent loves and got married for the sake of not being alone. Maybe they had spent their entire lives together dreaming and imaging their young loves instead of the person laying next to them.

I knew that was a possibility.

I decided to belive the first alternative though. It was the less bitter option and as my lovelife was in ruins I could simply not bare of the thought that other people were having to experience that same pain aswell.

15. I wish that without me you´d be spending the rest of your nights awake.

My room was filled with the memories of you, I layed alone in my bed and I remembered that night when you sat on the bedside, reading my books. When we hardly knew each other, when we first had met. And I would look at your brown hair falling in front of your eyes, your chin that trembled as you knew that you where being observed.
Now I was alone in my room, running my fingers up and down my sheets, watched how the white fabric ran thru my manicured hands. I looked out the window and remembered that night you stood outside with the stereo on full blast playing our favorite song and singing along until my neighbours got up and yelled at you from every single window in the building.
The dogs yelled, the babies cried and the old ladies screamed, and I lauged and I lauged and you smiled and just continued to sing.

Now my window was empty and when I looked outside the dogs would not yell, the babies were sound asleep and the old ladies just watched their soaps. My neigbourhood was quiet without you and I had been with you for so long that I had forgotten what I used to do without you.

You stopped calling.

I did not think of it much. I was occupied with everyday life and I assumed you were aswell.
And the next night, and the night after that and the night after that I could not sleep until sunrise and the small strings of light touched my window. I could not sleep because the silence was too loud. It kept me awake. I tried to wisper some imaginary words to you, but I never heard any back. My phone kept not running out of battery and that made me sick. I had gone from happy to desperate. I needed you, you where my sleepingpills. Or my pills to survive.
You had me addicted and now I was forced to quit cold turkey.

14. Dishonestly.

I remember the first time I saw you, your eyes and your smile and the shadow of your dimples made my heart beat so fast that I got an headache.
I remember talking to you like I had not done anything else in my entire life.
I remember that you knew all the lyrics from my favorite song cause it was your favorite song aswell.

You would call me from your apartement far far away and we would listen to each others breaths for hours.
And if we stayed quiet for too long, we would immedeatly talk at the same time and pour similar words all over each other.

We would talk until I got permanent marks from my cellphone on my skin, we would talk until I had no more words in me, nothing left to say to you, and you none for me, so we would make up words, we would make up words and tell them to each other.

And I would wake up at the middle of the day with dark circles under my eyes due to lack of sleep.
We would talk until our cellphonebatteries died and until the lightbulbs would explode from overuse. But we did not care, we would keep talking in the dark, whispering words so quiet that we thought the words would send themselves over the city, over the country and into the others ears.
Last December, 13th
You stopped calling.

13. This January 24th

Your silence is killing me so slowly
and it´s eating me up
to the point when I think
that maybe it would be better
if you just said that you´ve forgotten me
cause at least then I would know that you´re still living,
just not for me anymore.

PART TWO: THIS MESS WE CALL LOVE.

I can´t belive your not here with me anymore.
I can´t belive I am not where you are.
I can´t belive that you are somewhere else today,
and yesterday and probably tomorrow.

12. I´m going back to the start.
It was when she still got starstruck by his upperlip and he still got chills from her words.
When she met him, she tried to behave.

And when she talked to him he sounded like her, like the old her, the real her.
The one that collected postcards and held an lifetime of angst in an eraser from high school.
She would walk to his part of the city and they would sit by a big metal bridge and she would mess with his mind. He told her that he used to dream about the things she told him, the things she said to mess with his mind. And she would smile and consider herself a part of his world.
And so the summer came and they would spend hours listening to the same music on different places. You see, he was away a few weeks visiting his brother and left her temporarly, along with his black leather jacket and his shins-cds. She would put that jacket on and walk around his part of town for hours. Since she had nothing better to do during those weeks, he got more and more inside her head.

She did not know if it was love or simply boredom.
They do belive it was a little bit of both.

And he would come back after an eternity of shins-songs and they would stand for hours on the trainstation just looking at each other and update their memories of what the other person looked like.
He had gotten freckles and her hair was not as dark anymore. They would sit there and she would touch his freckles and he would run his hands thru her hair.

And his hands would get stuck in her hair, as no one had runned their hands thru it in such a long time. And then they would laugh and he would kiss her on the cheek over and over again, until she got freckles and his hair turned lighter. And she returned his leather jacket and he would say that it smelled just like her.

Her favourite thing was that when we took the train they would always sit facing each other, and, noone would notice that their knees where touching. And they would secretly look into each others eyes, look away, and start to talk with someone else. And they would both get all sorts of butterflies in their stomachs, just from having their knees pressed against the others.
They would meet up at their friends houses and look at bad movies for hours and hours in the night. He would sit at the very back, in the corner of the couch. She would act like nothing was happening as she gently moved closer and closer to him, util she almost had her head in his lap. In the corner of the couch in the unsuspecting darkness their hands were braided together for hours. They could be silent for such a long time, not having to say a word, and at one moment, they would get sick of the silence at exactly the same time and talk all over each other.


Fighting with him was the most fun she´d ever had. They would go into a room and start to talk until the room was filled with their words. And he would say something, and she would say something against it. And he called her crazy and she called him crazy and he called her a copycat for saying that he was crazy aswell. And he would call her unreasonable and
she would smile and laugh and then push all the awful and meningless words out of the room and kiss his freckles until they turned pink from her lipstick.
She loved fighting with him. She could argue with him about anything and everything.


They would sit in the library reading the same kind of litterature, but still having their ipods on, listening to heavy-metal as they trained themselves to look fully concentrated on the Dostojevski litterature they were reading.
She would make him mixtapes and he would write down every sentence in the songs that he thougth of her.
He would call her in the middle of the night and tell her how much he missed her and her music and her words and her freckles when he was away.
When his brother got worse, the phonecalls were less and less continuing. She had not given up on him but she would catch herself wondering more and more about love during the days. Sitting in his leatherjacket on the park surrounded by sympathetic ducks, listening to the garden state-soundtrack and wondering if this was it.
Was this it?
Was this all she got, and if it was, what was she complaining about? She had everything anyone could wish for, and stew. That horrible stew.

11. as I step into the night.

I somehow managed to fall asleep as usual that night.
He was leaving the country a few hours later.
At 2:33 I awoke by a twitch in my left hand. At exactly 2:33 his plane took off into the skies.

I was not surprised.I waited. I swore I would never point out my supposed allergy to e-mails ever again in my life.
I may despise e-mails but at least they´d let you know in a day what the other person had responded.
Five million thoughts crowded in my mind.
It was 2:33 in the afternoon and your upperlip had made an eternal scar in my brain.
Was I too honest? Would he understand?
Would his response be good, bad or just... dissapointing?

He had gone from being a staring stranger to my..
Well yes. What was he? He was him. The one he'd always be.

Just because you get a title in life dosen't mean you ARE your title.
I hated having titles. I hated even having a name.
It never felt right.
My name had always itched on me. Like one of those wonderful sweaters I´d never buy.

I was in the park. I could'nt sit on the bridge.
There's so many things I have'nt even said.
There is so many things I never can describe in words.
They just where there. Like a shadow or a wind or an explosion in disguise.
I could never write them.
They where details reserved my mind exclusivly. I'm sorry. I can't tell them.
I have told the big picture. That, you get.
One day the waiting stopped.
As I reached out my hand to the brown, half torn but perfectly packaged postcard from my saint,
my left hand started to twitch again. It was then I knew even more.

As my eyes started to feast on the letters that formed words that made this message my heart skipped faster and faster.
There was nothing I could do about it.
Mom started to make stew. Even the smell couldn't stop me.
I stood there, reading, for seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days.
I can't recall, I can't remember.
I loved every word and I would read it over and over again.
Even if he was thousand miles away from me I could see his perfected appearence, his upperlip, his smile and his voice as he said ”Braff” with that accent of his.
It was so silly. So perfectly silly.