In need of a mental boost.

In need of a mental boost.

There is literally no motivation in me what so ever to write these cover letters. Humans are on me about my future, what I’m going to do, what I should do with my dog, think of the big picture, make sacrifices in order to be wealthy and able to live a good life.
If I could choose, I’d choose to go away with my dog forever and never return to the planet. Just go. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with…

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In all rambling honesty.

In all rambling honesty.

I worry.
Not about one thing, but way too many things all at the same time. Sometimes it just hits me, a random thought, mostly negative, and here I am, over-thinking that little random thought, not really awakened by my own self but by some inner spiteful being lurking in the depths of my brain.  It can be about anything really and somehow I always manage to turn it against myself.

Tuesday night…

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Sometimes we come across that one stranger who, without knowing it, leaves a permanent imprint, an impact of our lives.
Perhaps it was just the name of that stranger which affected you, because your mind told you it did.
Perhaps it was the story of the stranger, the past, the present and it’s dysfunctional and wretched future.
Perhaps you fall in love with the stranger and all it’s flaws and…

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Tasting toxic madness.

And so it was done. The papers felt so heavy in her hand. She felt okay considering the level of anxiety shed been fighting off in that waiting room. She had no positive outlook right now. Hell, she wouldn’t even be getting any money for taking part of their ritualistic information meetings with others “just like her”. She knew there wouldn’t be any who’d come anywhere near being anything…

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Nightly novel. “In his eyes”.

Nightly novel. “In his eyes”.

In his eyes

She listened as he spoke. His words blending together with the silence, ringing like white noise in her ear. She remembered the flirty enthusiasm and excitement in his voice when they’d started talking, before they’d even met. He told her things from adventures across the globe and they’d spent hours talking til night fell about everything and nothing. He liked talking to her then.…

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Stepping down.

I’m stepping down from my teflon, bulletproof pride.
I want to be all that I can be for my family and my human, and I’ve realised that I can’t be that unless I tune down my pride and take a bullet or two from doing so.

If I were a man, someone would definitely had told me long ago to just man up, grow some balls and take the devil by the horns.
Or something similar…

But, I am a woman. A Mutant on…

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Mirrors unfold.

You’re staring at me.

I am.

You’re making me uncomfortable.

I am. 

Why are you staring at me?

I just am.

You’re freaking me out! 

Am I. 





“Oh” what?

Just, “oh”. 

You’re not normal, are you. 

I am. 

If you were, you wouldn’t be staring at me. 

How else would I stare, miss? 

You wouldn’t. 

I wouldn’t?

No, you wouldn’t. 

I see. 

So stop. 

If you say so, miss. 

Can you please go?


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Reality, suckerpunch.

My mom cried, because all the work dad has done, he now have to do it over again. She’s scared, because his blood pressure is high. Scared he might have a heart attack. My sister called to check how things are here. Always worried, worried about dad and of mom potentially being left on her own.

I never think about it, the future loss of my parents. I choose not to. It makes me cry, because I…

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Caterpillar curiosity.

Mutant Wahlqvist photoMutant Wahlqvist photo

Sometimes life gives us small portions of beauty. Small fragments of light through the thick and suffocating dark in which we wander. We can choose to pick it up and let it sit on our shoulders for a while. Carry it with us. Allow it to leave a trace of inner peace and temporary calm.

When it jumps down, we’re left with a warm print, engraved into our flesh as a fading memory of a pleasant…

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On my vessel I stand with the wind in my hair.

On my vessel I stand with the wind in my hair.

“The piano keys are black and white, but they sound like a million colors in my mind”
- Maria Christina Mena

Music can be beautiful. Hurtful. Even hateful. But when I go bed at night, alone, I need something to lure the sadness out of my system in order for me to sleep without nightmares.
So I turn to a man, a young composer who’s got more talent than any mainstream pop-pap moron has today. His…

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