Tag Archives: men


I laugh and laugh all through my tears, for whom or what I do not know. For me, I think, for my battered soul, or is it my heart that took the toll? My heart, my mind, I’m loosing both for something that doesn’t last or even exist, of this I’m sure.
For pain it comes from knowing not, confusion and being lost. Lost in someone? Lost somewhere? Lost every day and everywhere.
The pain it comes from within, for me and for him. Not to see, not to understand, to talk, to hear, but exactly what? What I say but not what I mean. I don’t understand and neither does he.
And this is where we stand. Confused, in pain, not knowing what is what. I wonder if we’ll ever understand what we really mean when we talk.

Three Dreams

Before my cats started fighting this morning I was dreaming, and sleeping a very deep and satisfying sleep. Three dreams.

Dream 1:

A huge expanse of land, a dry, hard packed, white-ochre soil flat and extending as far as you can see. In the middle of it I am standing, surrounded by a huge ancient building. Stone buildings, over a hundred stories high, a mix between western Asian and Chinese architecture – or at least what I think it is western Asian and Chinese architecture with my limited knowledge. – The buildings are topped with hugs long, Chinese dragons. I stand in the middle of a semicircle formed by the buildings, in the middle of the day, a bright, cold day in the middle of the desert.

I wanted to leave, immediately, I knew what was coming. Like in a b-rated horror movie  vampires would come out of the buildings, they would turn the blue sky black and we would all be dead.

Dream 2:

People for work, colleagues, all in a bus. There was an office building but I don’t remember where or why I was there. But I remember coming down a flight of stairs and getting in a bus.

Dream 3:

I was at the airport waiting for a plane, and I was with him,  A. We were laughing, sitting across each other at a table, his back to the airport windows. He has his right leg crossed over this left one, his laughing and sassing me and I’m sassing him back. We are talking about his sister, and a letter written in pink stationary.


Sometimes I remember when I used to wake up at night, with the nightmare still fresh in my mind. With the fear making me cry for an already forgotten reason.

Then I would looked around me in the dark, hear you breathing. Just that sound would make me feel better.

Now, I remember the nightmares, I remember the fear, I remember the sound of your breathing at night what I don’t remember is the way you made me feel. 

Your voice, your touch, the smell of your shampoo because you went to bed with your hair wet. But the way you made me feel is gone. The reason for the way you made me feel is also gone.

I cannot remember why.

Bad person 

Am I a bad person because I delete all the pictures and videos my friends send me of their kids?

Is it weird that the first though I have after typing this is laughing about it with, and telling it to A?


I am in love because:

  • He gives me Fuji apples
  • He puts raw veggies on my plate

I am in love because he is him and I am me.