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There's something cynical about me today. I haven't felt this way before. It's almost completely new to me - only familiar by theory. Battles within between opposing forces of my 'former' (for need of a better word) self - my attitude and sickeningly realistic system of belief concerning relationships, friendships, human nature and the analyst within me of whom I am afraid of this time. Hesitant and more cautious than usual to analyze so much that it takes away from the feeling. Feeding of the information until nothing is left other than cold calculations. Mainly cause that's what happened before.

This is not so much a statement of my struggles to dive into something so pleasant rather than it is an acknowledgment of the different levels that my mind is working on. There's a difference between blindly stumbling into something unknown and choosing to let go of the safety rope all the while hoping that you'll land somewhere and grow from the experience. Cease the opportunity. Right. At this point my eyes are burning and I am tempted to sleep because, like I've exclaimed so many times in previous years, dreams are so much more real sometimes. I'd like to create my own world - much like the stories I write- and at the same time I frown at my own thought process because it is so passionate. Something I always kept to myself. Something I'd only express in my art. Not to people. Not to paper. Because it runs so deep.

As a last note - I've enjoyed the recent conversations. Utterly enjoyed them. I adore diving into other people's stories, remembering with others, laughing and crying. Like that time I lay awake in my bed at 3am, tears running down my cheek because I remembered the story he told me about the bell tower. And I felt it. Fully aware that I have no right to feel the story. And so, I don't tell you if I do. I don't tell you that my tears are because of the way YOU felt and the fact that I learn so much more about you because of this. Insanely beautiful.

I can't get enough of you. And I know that there will always be more. More of which I have no right to take. And I enjoy waiting for your offerings. Waiting. Even if it never ends, it's not in vain. The Fool.
Meanwhile my snake and my scorpio are existing beside each other, in quiet companionship. Silently communicating. and writing an invitation out to only a few selected people. Some will arrive too late. But it's the thought that counts.
I could keep writing for Ever.

Meanwhile I wish I could find my diary. 7 years of writing, gone like that. Memories... so well recorded... sure, they are still clear in the back of my mind and I haven't forgotten but you know when you just need something to trigger a thought? I love reading through old notes. And it's also upsetting that my other online blog disappeared without a trace last year. I wish I had saved some of the entries... where did I put my art folder!? Why do I lose so many things lately. It's been a good day.
5.12.08 06:32


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Is my Grandfather reading this? There are things left unsaid, things quietly bubbling and burning deep within me that I find difficult to express in words because of the lack of language. How could I ?

If only you knew.

I never forgot you. Even for one second.
- muesli. What if...

Things left unsaid.

I love you. Even if I don't show it. Even if there's distance between us. What if...

I loved the way we would talk, and you would hold me in your arms. And if I was scared during a movie I would sit on your lap and take your big hands to cover my eyes, while I press my own against my ears. Then you'd give me a kiss on the back of my head and I would lean back into safety, wrapping your big arms around my small body like a seat belt.
These are just memories of you that remind me of how much things have changed. How somehow you think I am too old to be held. To be given a kiss on the back of my head. A few years ago we had our last time together, or so it seems. But you got busier and busier with life, work, love. What if....

And who is this laughing boy, full of energy, full of jokes, of soothing coolness, that beckons me to keep quiet as he takes my hand and leads me down the stairs to our grandmother's basement where we secretly discover hidden places. Where is he now? Where do I find him? And how do you find someone if you don't know how to look. What questions to ask. If there is a constant sense of a strong brick wall surrounding him. His constant laughter, the way he makes people feel at ease around him, draws them into the room with his overwhelmingly calm energy... Contrasted by the occasional glazed stare at the breakfast table. His red eyes after a long night in front of the computer - watching movies with his little sister who loves him so dearly that even the thought of a sign of his unhappiness brings torturous and helpless tears to her eyes.
Misunderstood. Neglected. Scorned at because of his free spirit.

On the train. He doesn't say the word. I am enjoying his presence non-the-less. Simply thankful and bursting with bliss at the fact that I am sitting so close to him. That our feet can res on the bench that is opposite of us. I quietly observe the way his dark eyes move and stare out the window. He is a complete mystery to me. Everyone tries to 'talk sense into him' tries to 'find out what he's doing with his life' so secretly I swear to myself never to be one of the people to bring this up. He keeps me as his little sister from years ago. We talk about movies, about music, but never about life. Never about thoughts. And I am ok with that.
It's our relationship. Something so precious. The only thing that connects both of our childhood. The feigned innocence. Living in the past. Constantly when I'm with him. For the sake of preserving the stability of the presence. Of keeping him close to me at least in this way.

I know nothing about him.
But I am scared to ask "what if".

I love you. I love you. I love. And I sit here with tears in my eyes that tell me that I would give anything for your happiness. I would die for this brother of mine. He is the embodiment of loneliness. "One heart and one soul". Remember how this woman said that to us once? I was so happy.

-

Feel free to stop reading at any time.

-

It used to be us two against you. Because you're the oldest. So smart. So careful with your gradual wall construction. You would build us things but never let us touch them. And the only way you knew how to give me attention was to annoy the hell out of me. I remember the first time we hugged. A real hug. One that you initiated on top of that. It was when you and Tine first got together and you and I walked downstairs to the car park so that you could show me your bike. (It was pretty cool). We lived in the same town but I rarely saw you. You must have been 19??
My love for you has grown so much. But I wish you would come back to earth sometime. Realize how beautiful your brother is and help him get a grip on his life. Be there for him. Although I do remember the first time that I realized that you two had your own relationship that didn't include me. That there was a You and him, Me and him, Me and you, and us three. Interesting.
I love it when you call me by my childhood nickname. And I call yours in return. It's like a secret code. You never express your feelings. Neither do I. But that's beside the point. At least I hug you and kiss you and don't let you from my side when I'm visiting. But when it's both of you there I don't know who to choose.
Here, in Australia, I initially felt... well... People would ask "do you have any siblings?" and be surprised when I'd say "Yes. Two brothers". "Do you see them much?". "No.."
I have no idea how I could share and explain these memories. The fact that you're not here takes away from the reality and the validity of these memories. At least for other people.
And it hurt because I wished I could show you to them. Point at the two of you and proudly say "There they are".


I remember walking to your house after school (primary) without mum knowing. Because I didn't know how she'd feel about that.

What if...?


I have had the privilege to be involved in your world so many times now. I met and befriended your friends, I observed you at school, at home, with your family. In your natural habitat. I am close to your mother. But never once was I able to show you mine. I always craved to be able to collide my different worlds. To merge them together, like you were. I wanted you to see me at the school, to meet my friends. And when I moved it got worse. Now you're one of my favorite chapters that I go back to but the character doesn't re-appear later on. I'm not sure if you're aware of this. I think you are. You did express your disappointment in the situation once. The fact that if I was sick as hell in hospital you would be one of the last people to find out.

I am glad I moved.

What if...?

I feel a constant sense of solitude. Loneliness but not in the negative unbearable interpretation of the word. It's simply a fact. And the knowledge thereof is comforting. Endlessly comforting. I think part of the reason for my experiments was to see if I could conquer this feeling through physical closeness. Obviously not. I tried so hard to find a way to fill this seeping hole and when I ran out of ideas... well... But you don't tell your friends, family or your 'partner' that you are feeling 'alone' even if you're with them. Because they would try to deny this for you.
At the same time there are people with whom it's less prominent. Because we can exist together but separately - in quiet, unspoken understanding.
Re-assuring. I am not afraid, because ultimately, I am alone already. And will be. And that's ok.

I'm here.
I'm here.
I'm here.

Where are you?
5.12.08 07:24


Since I lost my main online Journal entries, the privacy of my other online Journal and my actual diary I am planning to re-visit a few of my memories out of fear that I might forget. As well as because I need to write it down. Even though I already wrote it down once, the fact that it's gone... well... I'll come back to it later. Some town visiting first. Some Sophie visiting after. Some Blogging later. And this time, maybe I should print and keep the entries. What a fool I was.
6.12.08 01:54


Conversations

I'm just looking through my old notes again and I
remember the thought processes of last year and the endless conversations that I shared with my philosophical friend.

"Why do I have this feeling of being incapable to fall in love?" I tell people I love them. But I am never able to say "I'm in love".
We debated for hours on end, trying to come up with excuses. And people would say "you'll know the difference".
Clearly, being in love must be different from having love for somebody. Is it stronger? More painful? Is love not enough?

I wish I could find the old e-mail that I sent him last year while in Germany.

In reflection I don't really mind. Love IS enough for me. And I think, at the right time and in moments I can be in love. It's a thing of recognizing it as such. Hence I'm not incapable. Just cautious. But it's OK. I think I need time. I'm not usually one to throw myself into something without turning every single corner and seeing if it's safe enough. After all, my birth number is 4. hehehe...wink.

Also, it's interesting because I recognized the feelings I had for fish early this year as being in love with him. In other words, it took something external to tune my acknowledgment (which proves my point). But by the time I told him I had already thought it through so much. I was aware of every single detail concerning the story. And I am so incredibly calm about it. Which isn't the stereotypical way of love, is it? hmm... I read people's interpretations and perceptions of 'being in love' and I can partially identify but disagree with a lot of points.

I am currently falling in love. I could say that clearly because it was the first time that I actually witnessed the emotion in the process of its development. Very interesting. And so prominent at times. Soooo when does the falling stop? Does it usually? Does it have to? What kind of landing will it be?

I think I'm blocking myself because I'm being too cautious. And it would just be idealistic so say that you can easily break through your own blockade. Because perhaps you shouldn't. Perhaps you're not ready to. And don't need to. Maybe it's just not necessary. Maybe it is.

I guess we'll just have to wait. There's nothing negative about simply loving.

I'm so tired.

Leaving tomorrow morning at 6 am.





I don't want to.




I don't want to.
11.12.08 14:45


A story for the child

There are a lot of things that I don't understand.
But there are some things that I simply avoid out of fear of understanding.



I love the sound of laughing children.




<3
12.12.08 13:16


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