I am 5 years old. I am outside our apartment building, playing with my two friends who are twin boys. We are out on the field, in the neighbour’s raspberry bushes. I get my first kiss… two of them!
I am 7, and it’s the first day of school. My mom walks me all the way to the door of the classroom. I peek in the room, then quickly walk up to the teacher and say, “I will sing alone, by the way!”
I am 10 years old. I am sitting in the classroom, in fourth grade. The teacher walks up to me and says I need to go meet someone outside, in the hallway. Once outside, I see my mother. Her face is red and her eyes all puffy, glistening with tears. She tells me my grandfather, her father, has passed away.
23 October, 2016
Autumn has always been my favourite season. One of my first ever online names was quite close to something like “autumn melody”; my friends still remember that, and tease me for it. Me and clichés? Never.
For the longest time, as soon as the leaves start changing colour and the air gets crisp, I have had the urge to light candles and soak in fall themed movies like Annie Hall, Dead Poets Society, You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally,… the list is endless.
I have never been crazy about Halloween, like a lot of fall-loving people are. It is just a time when I feel at home the most but also oddly have the biggest urge to escape. Although in a weird way, I love the familiarness of it. Does that make sense?
The escapist in me dreams about walking strange streets and cosying up in the most perfect, unknown apartment somewhere. In my head, I make the most familiar things and places look new and exciting. Autumn is also the best time to peek through windows. Most people who know me well know that I love looking into people’s homes when it’s dark outside. In the non-creepiest way possible, of course…
On those cold autumn evenings, after having a (very non-creepy) walk outside, I light candles and turn on my fairy lights. I make a cup of tea and grab my blanket and a book… or maybe write down a few words if I’m not feeling too lazy.
The only sad thing about autumn to me is that it is gone way too soon.
24 September, 2016
It’s dark in this hostel room. My friend is asleep, it’s her birthday today. I can hear her breathe and I can hear all the noises outside and in the hallway – cars, people. I love every little sound, I’m surrounded by life and it all makes me feel so very safe.
Tomorrow morning when I wake up I will look out of the window and there will be people on the window sills across the street, smoking. There will be sun and shadows on the walls and I’ll take a picture to remember them. I will go out and take in the fresh air, then I’ll step on the metro to find an adventure…
I live for this, I do.
Her luscious lips, they haunt my thoughts,
the thoughts that make my thighs quiver
and my lips quiver
My heart quiver
These sinful thoughts that cause my stomach turn and
I cry out for any arms that might be open
“But what would they say?” she says
“No one can ever know,” she says
“Disappointment,” she says
and then she cries
Against the pillows, she cries and she shouts
and she says, “you” …
“I love you, too.”
Sä annat mulle vauhtia keinussa, mulla on keltainen kukka mun hiuksissa
Sun suudelmat on pehmeitä ja mun kämmenissä multaa
Mä sulan, sä oot mulle kultaa
Kohtelet mua ihanasti –
rakas, ollaan näin loppuun asti
Part of me is always yours
You know it,
they must be in your head,
all the words we never said
The tears that made my cheeks wet
in the afternoon
The tears that made us bloom
Against a pink sky
You made me wonder why
During the darkest night
Sigh, so very high
Please, don’t cry
22 July, 2016
I feel restless. I used to love going to sleep. Well, to bed. I loved being in bed, late at night, having some peace and quiet while reading a book or watching a TV show on mute. I loved those moments of solitude. Now, I feel like I have lost it. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t have my own space while visiting home or maybe it’s the nights full of light, but I just feel so lost.
I feel like I’m losing time, like I need to be somewhere and do something. I want to be out there, chasing a sunset. I want to stay up all night long. I want passion, I want music and I want love. I want to breathe deep while staring at the sea and I want to lie on a field. I want to squat in one of those old abandoned shacks in the Finnish country side. I want to dance on the beach with wonderful people and kiss everyone in sight.
We are getting more and more light outside while I’m writing this, it is morning now… I want to wake up on the back of a van, open the door and see this exact sky.
I just arrived home after driving around for no reason, after spending time with a friend and listening to old mix CD’s, having late night (or early morning) fast food and on top of all that, lots of laughter. I also dipped my toes in sand. The sun went down about 3 hours ago and it is about to come up again in less than an hour. The moon is out; almost full and so very bright – it looks absolutely beautiful against the light blue backdrop of the early morning sky. I guess it’s time for sleep now.
Someone, please, go on an adventure with me?
I like to wander but sometimes when I wander around alone I feel like I’m drowning. But how can you drown in the middle of the day while you’re walking on the street when there’s only pavement under your feet and the only smell of chlorine you can smell comes from the spa you pass? Sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating when I hang up the phone and sometimes really late at night I feel hopeless and there are tears on my cheeks and my throat hurts. I get this thing when sometimes when I feel anxious or terrified or even flattered my hands ache all the way to my bones and I just need to clench them together really hard and if someone touches them when I feel that way it makes me shiver and hurt even more and it makes me cry. After a while of holding them, the pain subsides, though. If I say, “my hands are hurting” it means I’m either upset or blushing. Sometimes when it’s sunny outside and I need to squint my eyes it makes me so angry that I want to throw things. Also sometimes when my heart breaks I feel like there is nothing in this whole wide world that could save me and I want to jump out of the window but then I remember how silly that would be and how when I think my heart breaks, it doesn’t, not really. Organs can’t break, not in that sense, anyway. I know that it can hurt really badly, though – my heart. When my heart hurts it really hurts and it feels like it’s clenching itself like I clench my hands when they hurt. The only difference is that my heart isn’t going to get any better if you hold it… If you hold it, it sighs and it’s relieved for a moment and you cuddle but during the cuddle or right after it starts hurting again and you might try letting it go for a while and holding it again but it’s just a vicious cycle. You shouldn’t hold a heart if you’ve made it hurt.
9 July, 2016
An evening walk turned into an evening sit-down by the river. The bench is cold but he is warm. It’s dark – well if you don’t count the lights of the bridge that are also reflected on the water. It’s drizzling and bizarrely, we can hear Sweet Home Alabama playing from somewhere on the other side of the river. I can feel the wind on my bare ankles and as absolutely cliché and silly that sounds, it makes me feel alive. The wind on my skin, the rain and the haunting music that has traveled on the water into our awareness all heighten my senses.
I’m already leaning my head against his shoulder but have the need to be closer. I wiggle into his arms, lay my head on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, his pulse. He holds me tighter. There’s another couple on a bench near us, in an identical position and it makes me smile.
“The water doesn’t even look like water, does it?” he asks. I state that it looks like tar. I imagine throwing my phone in, then being swallowed by it myself. I remember my dream from a night before where I jumped into the river and I wasn’t even afraid. “I’ll go and swim this summer,” I think to myself.
One of the swans just won’t go to sleep, the others are already tucked in. “It’s like me!” he says. “It is,” I say.