Thoughts

It's a constant competition between the two. My brain is either occupied by both, at the same time. Or none at all.

At time like these, where national tests, and final projects, and applying to universities are all over the place – so it the inspiration. There are so many thing that I have to do. Homework, and study for tests, and go to work, and let's not forget go to bed.

But every time I sit down to do any of that it's like my brain decides to give me 10 possible endings to a short story I was never able to finish, or the best idea on how to add colour to my drawings.

And no. It is not procrastination. It's procrastinations cousin whom I have to pay attention to immediately, because I know that he will never come back otherwise.

why is it like this?

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Thoughts

One thing we all have in common is this teeny tiny feeling called 'Sunday-anxiety'. It is, the feeling of not wanting to get out of bed on Sunday morning because you know that as soon as you do – the day will be closer to over.

It is the feeling of not wanting to do your homework, because it is your off-day and you deserve a little leisure time, but it is also the feeling of wanting to get ahead on school and make sure you have everything ready for the up and coming week.

It is knowing that you slept for to long and wont be able to fall asleep at night, resulting in making the already difficult task of waking up at 05.30 in the morning nearly impossible.

More than anything it is the feeling of self loathing, knowing you have to mark another day red in the calendar despite having told yourself that this week was going to be all green.

I wonder at what point Sunday anxiety stopped being just an obstacle making the day a tad bit slower, and went on to becoming a full blown monster that has to be taken care of constantly. At what point did it grow so big that even Saturdays are spent dreading the following day?


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Writings

As mentioned in the last post I dream a lot of nightmares. Not only do I dream, but I remember, and when I feel like it (or when I have time) I write my nightmares down and they become short stories.

Here is my most recent one, it's called Moonchild and is about 5-year-old Liam who is in love with the idea of living on the moon.

https://www.booksie.com/495169-moonchild

My english teacher read this and called me Hitchcock so don't expect any loveydovey blurbthingys.

It's based on a nightmare after all.

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Everyday

Or lack there of, let's be real.

It's not that I can't sleep – it's more a question wether I want to or not. And I don't.

I don't want to sleep, because when I do I get nightmares. Nightmares that I can't wake up from, and nightmares that I can't really separate from my everyday life.

I ask way to often 'did this happen or have I dreamt it?' or 'did I dream this or have you said...'.

It makes everything a nightmare really. How do I get out of it?

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Everyday, Thoughts

We all have that one friend. The one who doesn't really make their presence known, but still sticks around like a slug. The friend who never talks, never laughs, never writes back in the group chat - the one you don't really pay attention to because it's so obvious they don't want it.

It's the friend who never asks nor answer questions, and when they do talk; you can't hear a thing they say because it's so so quiet. It's the friend who never wants to join you for coffee or stay an extra hour after school to make use of the empty atelier.

And alongside that friend there's me; the person who feels way too bad for that friend so even though you know she never wants to join you always always ask her to anyways.

But then; when the friend does join in on outings. And when that friend walks in the back on the way to the bowling alley I just have to walk alongside and try to engage in conversation when I honestly rather be talking to someone who wants to answer.

Does that make me a bad person?

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Everyday

I love spending time with my friends. I do. What I don't love is the hours following hanging out with them. Anxiety to the max. Every single time.

Don't get me wrong, I love these people with all my being, but I always, always, end up feeling bad and worried about the whole thing.

I question every thing I've said. I overanalyse every action anyone has made. I go mad, and sometimes I don't feel like it's worth it. The fun and the enjoyment is nothing in comparison to what follows.

Why does life do this to me?

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Writings

This is something that I also have published on my Booksie account (@ Crowngerines). It was part of my final art project (which I passed, thank God) and it is something that I am surprisingly proud of.

Please enjoy.

Nightmare

Seen from the outside, the cemetery seemed – not only empty – but almost abandoned. As if nothing unusual was going on in between the engraved stones that were trying to keep old dead memories alive, as if no one had been there for years.

Not everyone who happened to walk past the old cemetery that cold windless morning in the middle of November would have noticed, but anyone that took a closer look could see two dark figures standing in the moonlight. These figures were in fact three. A mother and her two daughters, but if seen from a distance one wouldn't be able to tell, since the younger two were holding on to each other as if their lives were dependant on it. The third figure – the mother – was aggressively digging a large hole into the frozen ground, using the rustiest shovel imaginable, and didn't seem fazed at all as the cries of her daughters got significantly louder and more desperate by the minute.

They had been standing out in the cold for almost two hours and the mother wasn't even halfway done with her hole yet. The oldest daughter – only 11 years of age – dried her eyes with the dirty sleeve of her shirt in an attempt to stop crying, most likely because she felt the need to stay strong for the sake of her sister whom tried to copy what she felt the older one just do without succeeding since the tears kept rolling from her useless eyes down her cheeks. Cheeks that were so pale one could almost see right through them. That's why she became the victim, because she was weak, because she was almost already a ghost. She was so young, so innocent, so breathtakingly beautiful but their mother couldn't afford to raise the both of them.

There was something calming about standing in a cemetery at such an early hour though. For every minute that passed the girls found themselves more at ease, almost as if they were alright with what was about to happen. Maybe it was because everything was so quiet, so still. It felt like the entire world was peacefully asleep and that they were the only ones awake. The only noticeable sound was the heavy breaths coming from their mother and the echoing sound of the shovel when it hit the rock-hard ground. Maybe they were so calm because they both knew that it would soon be over, and there was nothing they could do about that.

After another hour or so, another hour of waiting and watching, the mother was almost finished and the sun was slowly rising above their heads. The older one of the two felt how the tears started falling down her face once again and this time she didn't stop them. She knew it was close now, and so did her sister. They could feel it.

"The world is a strange place girls, and you can't always get what you want" Their mother told them and motioned for her oldest daughter to bring the other one closer before she continued: "You'll have to remember that."

As the young girl walked with shaky knees in the direction she had been pushed, towards where she had heard the voice of her mother, her sister let out a somewhat silent scream to which the mother gave her a look of disgust. She wanted this to get over with. It had to be done whether her daughters liked it or not and even if there were quicker ways of doing it, the mother had decided that this was by far the best way. The way which required the least amount of money.

After a couple of minutes of silence the mother gave her youngest daughter a kiss on each of her pale cheeks before she gave her a light nudge on her shoulder. Since the girl was so small, that one nudge sent her falling backwards into the hole and she didn't have time to react before the mother passed the shovel to the older daughter and told her to get to work.

Not everyone that happened to walk past the old cemetery that early november morning would have noticed the two dark figures standing in the sunrise, but anyone that came to take a closer look could hear a mother telling her once oldest but now only daughter:

"I'm doing this because I love you”.

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Everyday

Relationships with parents. Either the most difficult thing in the world, or the most amazing thing in the world.

Is there ever an in between?

Now, obviously since my parents are divorced maintaining a grand relationship with the both of them has proven to be impossible. Therefore I have a great genuine relationship with my mother, whereas my dad has a great relationship with me and I'm like; meeeh.

I don't live with him, if that makes any difference. And I have no intention of doing so in the near or far future. But my mother is constantly on my back telling me to 'at least talk to him sometimes' - so I do.

Anyways the thing I wanted to write was; he missed my 18th birthday. He missed my 19th birthday. My 20th birthday is in 6 months and he is, in fact, going to miss that too. I can live with that. Obviously abroad vacation is more important. But today, he asked me;

"What date is your graduation? I'm going to Madrid and mightn't be home for it."

Oh well. What to do. Guess it's another red day in the calendar.

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Everyday

It is cutrently 00.00. In eight hours and fifteen minutes I am to stand in front of two classes and lecture them about dadaism.

I am not prepared.

I may know it all, but I am not prepared. I am also not at all close to falling asleep nor am I sure I really want to.

What to do?

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I have never been a person that has enjoyed being at home two days in a row without anything to do. I always dreaded going home from school on Fridays because I knew that when I let my brain relax the anxiety takes over.

It's not like that anymore. It's like the sadness is evenly spread throughout the week now, and in a way that's good. But it's also quite frustrating.

What I'm trying to say is that I quite enjoy weekends now. Mostly because I always have some sort of schoolwork to occupy myself with. But also because the pressure of having to hang out with friends is gone. Living far far far away is quite good.

Anyhow. I don't dread weekends anymore. That's my point.

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Right, I can't be the only one who has had a crush on someone impossible? Impossible in the sense that said person is either taken, famous, or – as in my case - not into women.

The thing is that this person told me they were bisexual and were also quite clingy and nice and every other thing that would make me fall for them. But it turns out they're "Bi, but I only like guys."

Oh well what can you do? They were a year above me in school anyways so once I found out I was like; "I'm probably not going to see them again... right?"

But guess who barged in on our lunch today? Yeah.. precisely.

I don't really mind to be honest, I've had a poor excuse of a relationship since anyways so I'm kinda over it, but for some reason I don't know how to act when this happens? What do you do? Things like this confuses me.

I have decided that I'm in desperate need for more experience.


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I don't like it when people don't like me.

Whaa, what a surprise. As if that doesn't apply to every single person ever.

But you know what I mean, I don't mind people that don't pay any attention to me. Most of the time I don't notice them either. But those people who actively choose not to like you for some reason. That's what bothers me.

It's not like they say or do anything in particular that reveals their dislike, it's just something that radiates off them and hits me in my chest and try, I really try to hate them back, but I can't.

So stop being overly nice to me, because I get what it means.

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Presentations. Yay.

My entire day tomorrow (a total of 3 classes) will consist of presentations. We're finishing off our final project presentations, we're presenting our study we did on hands, and the poor people who couldn't present their final project in the morning, is gonna have to do that in the afternoon.

I don't mind talking about my art. Mostly because my stuff is hard to understand unless you get the story behind it.

It's staying awake during everyone else's presentations that's the real struggle.

Wish me luck. I need it. My teaches despises me.

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It seems I have a somewhat strange relationship with all my teachers. I already wrote about the one who asked about my weight. I haven't told you about the one who told me my dreams are worthless and that I should start rethinking my life, but I will most likely get to that at some point.

Today though, my natural science teacher were walking around in class telling people what assignments they had missed and how important it is to get at least half of them done. You see, we get a new essay to write every week, but we don't actually have to do all of them since most of them are quite alike. But, being thee good anxious A-child I am, I do them all.

Well, except one.

When he walked by me and my friend I told him that there is one essay I haven't done, and he said; "Great, don't do it. You're too good."

Is it not supposed to be the other way around? Isn't he supposed to encourage me to do it? Maybe looking through sources on the NASA webbpage isn't going to make a difference but still. I find that quite odd.

Like, when have I ever been 'too good' at anything before in my life?

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I've come to the conclusion that I love spending time with my mother. Like, hands down, she's my favourite person on this earth.

When it's just the two of us.

As soon as her significant other or my brother or anyone else is there it kinda ruins it for me.

We don't necessarily do anything special, we could be sat it the car in complete silence for an hour and it's still the best hour of the day.

I just like having her to myself I suppose.

It does not mean that we don't talk, because we do.. sometimes. And I like that too because there's really no one else I can talk to like that. Without restrictions.

I don't know, maybe it's stupid. But she's my best friend even though I barely see her. Maybe that's why I appreciate the time with her. She works like 17 hours a day and sleeps and eats the rest. So when she does get a day of I want her all to myself.

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It feels like I haven't drawn anything in ages. It's probably because I always end up drawing tiny tiny dots and by the end of it it makes my head spin.

But anyways, dots and I get along on paper so I don't see a reason for stop dotting.

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A strangeish this happened today. Or maybe it's not that strange, it's just that it has never happened to me before.

We were ice skating in pe class and while my friends were playing around and I was resting the cramp in my feet our teacher calked me over and asked 'how much weight have you lost?'

Is that something you can just ask?

I mean, I'm kinda flattered that people notice that I look different. I don't really notice it myself to be honest. But at the same time I'm kinda curious how he came to think about that.

I don't know. It's just weird to me.

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Today in class I just really felt like writing. I didn't even know what I wanted to write but I just felt like I had words in my fingertips that needed to get out. The only reason I can come up with for this is because the class was 'Art and society' and because whatever 'neorealism' is wasn't very interesting.

Anyhow, I started writing and at first it was about loneliness, then the topic of love came up, and finally I ended up writing about nightmares. Surprise surprise. I can't really read what I wrote because it's a mess honestly.

But it's strange, how sometimes you just want to get rid of a feeling and that the only way to do so it to put words to it. Even if the feeling is unrecognizable.


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