Tell me all your Demons.

Why are you angry?

Has this been brought on by the thoughts of the beach the other day?

I don't understand why you have to be one or the other, I think it's about being different things at different times, depending on what you think is the right response. It's clichéd but everyone is different, your persona is your persona, there's nothing you can do about it and there's nothing to do about it.

It is always a bit strange to think about you once being one of those really popular, outspoken types of kids that I kind of admired, but always from a distance. I agree that it's very different to you now.

You always talk about your bad period - but you never really ever defined that for me. Could you now? If you're looking back and feeling ashamed, there's no need. If you want to be more of a leader, be more of a leader. There is no target where you should be aiming for to please one particular person.

You are what you are. The thing I want is for you to measure up to your own expectations and not be scared to aim high or try new things - that is the only thing I want for you. I know you're set in your ways, but I don't think there's ever any harm to be more open to different people and different tastes. (MUSIC). :)

I guess I wish you were less scared of the unknown, that you could regain some good attributes from your past - your confidence perhaps, because I know it would make you feel better too about yourself. I always say you're cocky and vain, but you have reminded me sometimes that you're very self-conscious when you shouldn't be. When you're meeting my friends, and physically even too. Though god knows why.

You talk about your mind. What are you scared of? What are these violent and sexual fantasies you talk of? Why are you struggling with yourself?

Anyway, my main message I guess is:

Stop trying to please others so much. I'm not saying don't listen, but aim to please yourself.

Some relief

I am so angry all the time.

Macho/feminine, dominant/submissive, rough/soft, alpha/beta, aggressive/passive. All these terms floating around in my mind all the time... Which of them am I, which am I not? And this anger, these demons, it all stems from here – my insecurities about my own persona.

All through my childhood I was the top chief – always in the leader seat and never shy of conflict. Honest truth – that's not who I am today. I'm certainly a more passive character, and not an enthusiast for conflict and arguments. But something changed along the way – and I believe that happenened during my bad period, where everything went to shit. My personality changed as a consequence of the actions that were done to me, and unfortunately these were some of the most crucial years in the human being's personal development.

Where am I now? My mind is troubled with anger, fear, frustration, violent fantasies, internal struggle and messed up sexual fantasies, and I don't seem to be able to find the way out.

I don't know what you want me to be, but I think most of this is rooted in the fear of not being that – not measuring up to what you expect. I want you to know every part of me, and to be accepted and loved nonetheless, but I fear that that will break something.

Being Paul Desmond seems nice... But I'm sure he had his demons as well.
Even on the saxophone I don't know. Should I play tenor or alto or soprano? Should I play rough, should I play soft? Your instrumental voice should resemble your own. Paul Desmond did that.

Suppose this will have to suffice for misery for one morning ;-)
Love you.

Updating Dennis the Menace...

I remember reading Dennis the Menace comic strips when I lived in Edinburgh.

I was about 6 or 7 years old I think, I had mastered English, and life was carefree. I used to see these comic strips with Dennis in his red and black stripped jumper, with his ever present companion and fellow mischief-making-friend Nasher the black, spunky, dog sitting in the corner of the after school club at Sciennes - which I wasn't technically attending. We were extremely poor then, my father studied for his PhDs whilst trying to juggle as many dish-washing and restaurant jobs as possible so we could get by, and my mother had just started on her Masters. It was a true case of starting at the very bottom and scraping a living. 

I remember my mum telling me the other day that my dad actually quit a dish-washing job once because they refused to pay him more, and he thought his work was worth more. Funny. Especially since half the time he washes them these days they still manage to look unwashed..

I used to sit there not really part of the club because we couldn't afford it, and not having anyone pick me up yet because mum had to rush from class to school, and she'd always come in near closing time, having half run half walked the distance - Edinburgh is notoriously hilly after all. I had to do something with my time, so I'd pick up these magazines, and I read them all. 

Pouty lips.

How eagerly I waited for the next edition as well after I had finished the backlogged collection. Sometimes the lady who ran the club felt sorry for me, and so she'd let me join in the activities too and gave me food. It's sad that I don't remember her name or her face, but I remember her being a plump, strongly built woman, a true northerner - a character you read about in books, a bit like the maid or the old cook who had been with the manor serving all her life.

It's kinda surprising that I don't remember any of this normally, and I really have to recall it. I feel like I forget, or bury things far to easily.

Anyway, it was really surprising when I found out the boy who acted the part of Dennis looked the exact opposite to the character. And like a certain someone.. And he's certainly much better looking too. Dennis was never the prettiest character you had ever seen. 

I'm a sucker for mischief, what can I say. I think I'm much smoother than him though, and I never, well, hardly ever, got caught.

And now I'm just thinking about this boy I used to know. 

We were good friends, we lived in the same flats and I remember thinking he was really annoying at first, that he'd follow me around and pick a fight with me and argue with me about stupid stuff. I would think "Boys are soo stupid" and one day me and this other girl were playing, and he wanted to join in. I told him no because he was a boy, and he just wouldn't go away for some reason that day. My friend said something like "I bet you fancy her, that's why you won't go away isn't it?". And the poor boy went bright red and denied it ferociously (still not going away). It made me think. 

The next time I saw him we were on our own (I often sneaked out the door when my mum had a mid-day nap and I would hook the door open with a chain or a stick so I could get back in), I asked him outright if he did. He admitted it. It was incredibly cute, he was maybe a year younger than me - but when you're a kid, you feel so much more powerful and look down on people younger than you - and American and he looked so guilty. It was quite adorable, and it made me change my attitude towards him a bit. But I think he felt so embarrassed over it that he couldn't look me in the eye and our friendship was never quite the same after that. His parents left to go back to America soon after that so we didn't really get the chance to patch it up either. 

Luke Fisher, I wonder what kind of person he is now.

If there is no post soon, I'm gonna be a fucking menace

A few updates

I'm going through a chapter and some stats in my demography textbook, and the shit in there scares me. By 2050, in our lifetime, (with the current population increase of 1,2 %) the world will have 10,7 billion citizens, and I keep wondering with which resources Earth will be able to provide for all these people.

Moving on...

Frederik is moving out today – will be interesting to see who moves in.

Mr P got lucky on Tinder. Apperently she's NOT very cute, but he doesn't complain.

To get to the main part of this post... I was thinking while walking home from the central station yesterday. It's a 15 min walk, through one of the crowdiest streets in Oslo. I was looking at people, and at what was going on, and I realised why some tourists don't fancy certain parts of Oslo. This street that I speak of is kind of infamous, and it's the obvious route home unless you take a detour or bus or tram.

Every other person I walked past looked like users (they have an unmistakable appearance), and most of them looked like they were high on heroin, staggering about with a euphoric look in their eyes. Everywhere. I was walking behind this girl the whole way, and there were so many creepy guys that threw remarks at her. One that stood out was this old long-haired drunk without teeth that basically was drooling while she walked past. There are certain parts of the city I don't need you to see. And what happens to the eastern parts of the city at night is also something I don't like. If you walk home through the inner east after midnight, for fun you just start counting how many times you are offered drugs during that one walk. African guys will be standing at every corner coming up to you: «Want some weed? Something else? I can get you everything», and in the end it just becomes routine to ignore them.

But you'll like it apart from this, so do come. Do you know about the reading week yet?

Hardcore nostalgia time

I was born in Feiring, I grew up there. I spent my first 14 years in the same house – a cute, red wooden house in a steep hill. We had a huge garden that garden enthusiasts from across the country came to see. There was a pond with fish and frogs connected to a small creek, apple trees, plum trees, wild cherries, raspberries, blueberries, and there was a greenhouse that we redecorated into a greek tavern. Me and my sister had a treehouse high up in a tree with a swing that our dad built for us – but we never used it, poor man. Me and my sister had a pet lamb, dogs, chickens, bunnies, geese, ducks, a cat, ginnea pigs. My grandparents and great grandmother lived on the other side of the forest, my great aunt on the other side of the road – very few of the neighbours weren't related. On saturday and sunday mornings, the family would have breakfast looking out over the lake or down on the garden, where moose or deer would be eating the apples that fell on the ground. Sometimes a goshawk or a fox would kill the chickens – that always broke my sisters' heart, and we would have a small funeral in the forest bordering on the garden. I feared that forest, to my dads great annoyance, because he always wanted me to go with him when he went for trips. Neither my dad nor I ever went hunting – we never had lust for killing animals (although my grandpa has been hunting moose his entire life). Me, my sister and my dad would often go to a small lake in the forest where we had a canooe, and we would fish for pike (tastes like shit, but whenever I caught one I would brag about it to my friends the day after, always exaggerating its size), perch or trout. In the middle of the lake was a small island where we had a permanent lavvo-tent and campsite, that we would go to after fishing, and we would cook the fish and eat it. The lavvo burnt down in the end.

(The best photo of the house I could find at the moment, taken the winter after it was built. Lake with ice in the background)

Summer holidays would pass by playing football on the field by the lake. Sondre, Ole, Ola, Bjørnar, Ingeborg, Karoline, Jonas, and so many others. After a day of playing, me and Sondre would go to his house, right by the beach, lay down on the trampoline and talk about life, love, sex and our futures.

The family would go for day-trips in the boat, on a dead still lake with the evening sun in our backs. When my dad was in a playful mood we would go get the water skiing-equipment and the boat would race me and my friends around the lake. Good times.

Winter would pass by skiing until we were too cold, and we would go inside and have waffles and a hot drink.

When I come here again, after all this time, I do feel a sense of home and belonging – but I also feel estranged. I don't think this is home anymore – home is in the city – but this is where I am from. No doubt about it. It has its own special place in my heart, and I will always have ties here; family and memories. I hope I will have the chance to take you here.

(Think I will update this post with some more pictures in the future)

Today

My love for you is like noodles, long and yielding.

I'll be the first to admit I overlooked your feelings.

Sometimes I forget how much you actually care about me, and it always surprises me to see you upset over small things that I didn't think about.

Like the other day - I'm quite a recluse in my habits and very much an independent soul. I don't need to keep in contact with my friends all the time, I don't need to talk to them all the time and I don't feel they need to hear from me all the time either.

For example, I haven't spoken to my best friend since February. But it doesn't change anything, and she knows me, and as soon as we see each other again it will be like there never was a break. She's still my bestfriend.

What I'm trying to say is, even though I might not be talking to you all the time, it doesn't mean I don't think about you, or I'm not thinking about what you're doing, where you are, who you're with. You're on my mind, I just don't always communicate it.

And I know you have a completely different attitude, and you see it a different way. But just try to see if from my point of view too. I show my appreciation in a different way.
Trust me when I say this is as good as I get - which I know is awful.

I know you need the communication, the confirmation and the contact a lot more. You get jealous and anxious and needy and that's fine. It's just I need my space and you know and respect that.

And now I need to try to respect what you need too.

If you were here, I would poke you and hug you and not let go even if you tried to shake me off until you broke a smile. And then I would cook you a hearty meal and sit you outside in the last bits of the evening sunshine with a nice ol' book. (after you washed the dishes of course).

I'm not insensitive, just difficult and silly and, most of all; sorry.

:).

Yesterday

You probably haven't done anything wrong in most peoples eyes. You chose to ignore me for 30 hours, and maybe that's normal, I don't know.

You said you may be going out, so when I never heard from you I thought maybe something happened to you. But there was facebook activity the next morning, so I realised that wasn't it. Then what could it be, why would you just ignore me?
I was telling myself «I'm sure she's busy doing something important, like corresponding with lawyers or something of that sort», and I tried to hang on to that, but it didn't keep me from thinking...

The thoughts kept spinning... At one point I decided that I would break up with you if you hadn't made contact by midnight (your 11), although I knew I would never do that.
But then at midnight, I asked you whether you had a good reason for not replying. That hurt me, that I had to ask you.

To be busy is fine, to say that you'd like to be alone and have some quiet for a day or a few days is fine, to have a reason not to talk to me and not talk to me can also be fine. To not have a reason and still ignore me is not fine. It either demonstrates how little you know me feelings, or how little you care. That hurt me.

Sometimes... I feel like you could make more of an effort. It's nice when your person makes you feel wanted, special, cared for.

Something needs to change, that's for sure.

Favourite shit

Favourite anything: Jazz

Favourite movie: Pride and Prejudice(2005)

Favourite book: Kafka on the Shore

Favourite fabric: Tweed
Favourite anime: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Favourite modern saxophone: Yanagisawa 992 (one day...)

Favourite vintage saxophone: King Zephyr Special

Favourite jazz player: James Carter
Favourite jazz composer: Charlie parker
Favourite classical player: Jean-Yves Thibaudet
Favourite classical composer: Difficult, but definetly impressionist. Debussy, Ravel or Satie.

Favourite tree: European spruce

Favourite uptempo jazz song: Confirmation by Charlie Parker

Favourite downtempo jazz song: Roman Nights by Tom Harrell

Favourite classical piece(s): Vocalise by Rachmaninov, Je te veux by Eric Satie, Reverie by Claude Debussy

Favourite beer brewery: Nøgne Ø (norwegian microbrewery)

Favourite poet: Robert Frost

Favourite food: Udon noodles (the fat kind)
Favourite dog breed: Alaska Malamute, occasionally Shar Pei
Favourite city: London
Favourite potential day: Spend half day in bed with S, then take her out to buy her shit she wants, then drink moderate amount of aquavit and beer with S and my lads before going to listen to James Carter live at Ronnie Scott's. Drink some more while watching the gig of a lifetime before taking S home to enjoy her body.
Favourite dream destination: Tokyo
Favourite philosopher: Peter Singer
Favourite political party: Rødt (Red Party of Norway)


Can't think of anything else... Do return the favor.

Comment.

Today has been rather busy, what between my dreadful interview at Roka which really, truly is stunning. (Amateur mistake of being late..) and helping my mum out with her settlement case. It has glass surrounding all sides, which can be opened from top to bottom creating this open-plan alfresco dining with the outside. A stunning part of London I never even ventured into. God I love it.

I've also went to a BP Discovery day yesterday on Wells. Very, very interesting and highly recommended. I've always felt I've had no sort of direction, no aim since I started my degree. It picks at all my weak points and forces me to work with them instead of playing to my strengths. But I truly, truly see something interesting now that I think I'll really enjoy. I'm determined to pick up my grades next year and get onto one of their internships/challenge course. 1 month on with lots of danger, 1 month off to travel - sounds like a dream, and every person I met working there was so lovely. I did feel like some of the other people I was with weren't that receptive to me though, maybe slightly cold. Which always makes me feel down. But I met this guy (Chinese, of course) from Cambridge doing general engineering who was really cool, and also 3 other people from my year I'd hardly talked to before.

The world is so small.

Your last post makes me a little annoyed. At 'Fluffy'. first off - honestly, who calls themselves that, it's a bit too try hard to be cute isn't it? Okay that was mean. I'm just annoyed because she struck a nerve..

On the one hand I think 'Who is she to meddle and stick her nose into what is between us', on the other, I know she is just being a good friend and doing what I would do. It's funny, if I wasn't involved, I would probably give the same advice. But I don't think you necessarily need that much common ground for a relationship to work. I think it's much more about chemistry, communication and being able to take an interest in each other's interests. I'm not saying that I like everything you like - gosh no, I have to be true to myself - but it is good to open your eyes to different things.
Plus, I always think it is much more about being in sync with regards to giving and taking.

I believe in the end, it's about knowing what the other person needs, and being able to give that to them emotionally when they need it. And vice versa. It's not always about interests.
A simple example is - if it was, why then are you not with Fluffy?

Answer: Interests change.

Fill up our space

My friend Fluffy has on several occasions pointed it out me that: «You have nothing in common.You should probably end it now while you still can». But she also said that, and I quote again, «But I get it, I know what you feel».

Isn't it easy, to just live and love, rather than to be the rational person and having to sacrifice what doesn't need to be sacrificed. One could give up and be miserable now, but recover and be happy in a more convenient future. Or one could give everything and lose, but the loss is luckily with no regret having actually tried. Or one could win – a time or maybe a lifetime of love and companionship.

This is not a dilemma for me. My emotions usually seem to conquer the right to rule the path I take in life, and I refuse to be a bitter man who didn't take love as far as it could go.

There is no doubt as to what I feel, but both rationality and emotions aside, I want to explore the common ground that we share. To know if something is going to hold, you have to know everything about the foundation – because that one crucial malfunction might tear everything down afterwards.

Darling, give me something I didn't know.  

Pandaology 101 - 1st dilemma

«But I am not sure about dwelling too much on discussing what we feel. It is too complex a subject that might lead only to disappointment.»

During my visit you half-jokingly questioned whether I really knew you at all, as a result of me not knowing your favorite colour, and that I couldn't possibly know all of you, since I hadn't been able to be with you over a longer period of time before.

That has stuck in my mind, and my thoughts keep circling... «Is she right? Do I really know her as well as I imagine? Do I even know her better than her newly found uni friends? Yes, for sure, I know stuff about her that she would never tell those people. She and I go way back, she tells me more than anyone else. I need to be the closest to her. What does she and M discuss when they sit talking on her bed for hours several times a week... does she lay out her heart for him? How close is he really? The only thing I know she never discusses is me. And there I am. The part of her life that cannot be shared with others. Is that a good thing – maybe I am too precious and private for her to share with anyone else – or is she hiding me for other purposes...»

What do we feel? I am in love. Are you in love? I think you are, maybe... Well, you're something. Now I'm making it sound trivial, but don't get me wrong. You're my closest one, and I love you.

My idea for this thing came from the desire to know you as well and in-depth as possible. I thought this would enable me to see into the landscape of your persona that you wouldn't normally share. I want to know everything there is about the person that I love; all perceptions, all opinions, all thoughts. So keep going.

Thirsty; a pun.

My debut post of sorts.

It's been expected for a few nights now, but I've been stuck with how to respond and how I should go about this. 

I am not a public person when it comes to my thoughts and the idea of having to share them is a difficult one for me to imagine putting into practice. It is rare for me to even volunteer information on how I spend my time on a day-to-day basis. I am a recluse by nature.

I don't think being a recluse has to necessarily mean one doesn't enjoy the company of others, every so often. I know I do, I love it in fact. And this is a common misconception in my opinion.

Company is such a lovely, wonderful thing. It can warm the heart, make you forget all your troubles and fears and practicality. It can also change you. Change your opinions, change rationality and change the path of your life. It is an infection of sorts in many cases be it for better or worse.

Those precious few days we had to ourselves made you forget our problems, but they made me remember how easy it was to just be myself in your company. No need to make false, 'interesting' conversation for the sake of someone else like I feel like I have to do sometimes. The soft sound of silence is not unwelcome like it normally is. It is not awkward, it is comfortable. And I don't feel like I have to try to impress you or that I may be judged for something stupid that I say - i.e. when it comes to that wonderful topic of feminism..

It's truly touching, your last post. I never understand why you actually like me more than any of the other girls, because I'm not any more interesting or kind or funny or knowledgeable about your interests than them. And I will always be a skeptic. But thank you, you have made me feel like I made a difference to someone.

It's easy to forget that period when you completely closed yourself off to me last summer - you were cold and spiteful and I remember crying every night (after everyone went to bed in silence under my duvet) for a while because this was supposed to be someone that had claimed only 3 months ago that they would do anything for me. It seemed like at the time, everything was as I had originally thought - you were never really in love with me. It was just more words.

I guess that period was a blessing in disguise though. It made me a bit tougher, it made me put thoughts of you down. I could remember you with neutrality instead of some kind of strong emotion which I hated feeling. And when you made contact again, it was in your own time and on my terms. I was okay treating you as a friend.

I'll be honest, you didn't come to mind at all when I kissed other people. I know that must hurt you, but you should understand how I deal with emotions already. You hurt me: I respond either by dealing with it and moving on or just forgetting about it. But all the while, believe me when I say you still had a place in my heart.

That bit must be obvious when instead of going out with friends, I stayed in and talked to you, especially in the last few months. I suppose a little bit of our before was creeping back up to me. But I wonder if it's because it's what is comfortable.

I'll say this much. It did hurt a little when I found out (late) that yet again, you had a new squeeze, and I wondered more than a few times at night - when you didn't respond to me fast enough/at all - if you were fucking her instead because I was a boring shit. I thought at that moment guys were all the same.

The line that touches me the most is that you think I'm kind, and that you'll never forget it. That is the one line I have committed to my long-term memory. (It's hard, I know).

But I am not sure about dwelling too much on discussing what we feel. It is too complex a subject that might lead only to disappointment.

About MY and the situation with A. Well, lets just say I always thought you were a secret drama queen, attracted to all things high-drama. You've never told me this stuff, and it makes me wonder how much else you haven't told me. And everything you've told me about her doesn't match the description of 'someone who is happy all the fucking time'.

Is it sad I never had such an interesting life?

Turbulence

This post will be about the most turbulent and in certain ways shittiest part of my life so far.

It takes place when a rather different, young me is 15. This summer, before starting 10^th grade, I fell in love for the first time. It was young and adorable. I had just left a very hard time adjusting to new school, new friends and all the shit you know about (that I will probably write more about at some point), and so it came at the perfect time. I was a young lost soul, and I was fortunate enough to meet a person with enough character to choose to get to know me rather than leave it be, due to my somewhat damaged reputation. So we started our relationship, but it turns out, maybe a little too early and too fast.

This young girl (MY) had a few months previously entered a relationship with another dude. This dude («A» from now on) was an «underage» (claiming to be) asylum seeker, and he was a part of a larger group of asylum seekers that lived together in an institution for youths in the same situation. These asylum seekers would receive education in special classes at my new school, and they usually hung out by themselves. MY was in a small group of people who made friends with a click of the oldest of these asylum seekers. A develops feelings for MY, and they enter a relationship during that spring. He tells her the truth, that he is actually not underage, but 19, and that he was a child soldier in Chechnya, and about the horrors that he has seen and done (these details are unclear). This relationship drifts apart without any sort of definitive verbal ending, and it is here that she meets me.

We go about our ways, we're young and in love and life is sweet, but then hell breaks loose. A and his psycho friends discover that MY has entered a new relationship. First I receive threatening messages, for example «We're going to get you», «We're going to kill you». Then I tried to respond to these messages and to reason with them, but with no results. I start getting phone calls from unknown numbers that hang up. By this point I am so scared and paranoid that I don't leave the house unless I absolutely have to, and I don't go to the local town centre where they usually patrol around looking for people they have a beef with. One day I get a call from a friend, who overheard that they are getting lots of people together to find me and kill me, although nothing happens. I barricade myself in my home with the weapons I can find and hope for the best, considering whether I should call the police or not. I end up not calling. I know those guys out there looking for me carry whatever weapons they can hide from their teachers. During this time, I never left my home without a knife. All through this, MY and her friends, who knows them, try to reason with them and calm the situation.

One night, feeling safe enough, I go the festival in the town centre to enjoy myself with friends. They're there, and after trying to find a way out avoiding them, I end up getting beat up by two of them. No bad injuries, but I remember. Actually, A tried to stop them, being the most sympathetic person in the group.

The memories are so foggy. Lots of shit went down, and there were other encounters, but I think I've captured the essence of it. Some more time passed, and I eventually received their forgiveness, I think. Or so they said, and I never talked to them again. The gang was sent to different parts of the country and disbanded, and I went back to a more relaxed life then the hell I had spent the past six months in.

In retrospect I'm surprised but happy that these events have not shaped my views on immigration and other cultures in any way.

I saw A when I was driving home yesterday, I think that was what made me think of these events.

An opening - stream of conciousness - Manchester debrief

Dear Panda cub. I think this is gonna be a stream of conciousness.

I have tried for 14-months to live without you, and while doing so, I started looking for replacements for your place in my life. I needed someone geographically close to me to make me feel what you make me feel, but that is not possible. This intense love drive that I have for you is the strongest thing I have ever experienced, and there is no substitute for it. When I had sex with a different person, I had to picture your face in my mind to even have the slightest chance of making anything happen. I don't want to start doing that again – trying to find a substitute. I want you, even if you're not geographically close.

We first got to know each other when I was in a very odd place in life. I was a mentally very ill person, who walked around with delusions, auditive hallucinations and suffered from some kind of compulsive lying, but at the bottom of all of it I was still me. When we first met in person I was in a similar, but also very different place in life. As a consequence of the develoment of the illness and/or medications, my character had changed. I felt like my person was trapped inside a web. My brain didn't the function the way it is supposed to, I couldn't lead spontaneous conversations, tell a story from start to end, or generally be an interesting human being. But throughout all this, which was like hell for me, I was still in love with you, and it hurt me that I couldn't be who I knew I really was. You, the kind, kind, loving creature that you truly are, stuck by me, even though the person you loved wasn't fully there. 
I will never forget that. But then I got over this stage, and I could be myself again. And we got back to the same speed, and you could love a person of the present again.

A year went past. I did stupid things, then I realised I loved you too much and wouldn't have anyone else. My heart got broken, we stopped talking so that maybe my love would disappear or quiet down. It did quiet down, or it was hid away in a corner where I could keep my eyes off of it for the most of the time. Then you were there again, and the love I had hid away was creeping back into me. I tried dating someone I wasn't attracted to, and it just made it more clear that I was in love with you all along. So I had a choice, - I could chase you or I could try putting you away again. All my friends advised me to be a rational person and let you be, and try to move on. I thought about that – hard. But I couldn't do that, and I didn't want to do that. I needed to see you, to hold you again, to be together with you again. And... I love you. And this poorly structured text was my stream of conciousness.