Springtime

I can't help but smile when I see this cute and cuddly creature :)

About the Norwegian

Thank heaven for Odd Børretzen!

Sigh

Once again stumbling over a peaceful song which brings tears, hope and tranquility.

Joshua Radin - paperweight

I have succeeded

There's no place like home

...that makes me feel more alone in this world.

The irony of this is too grand to even start giving an explanation to, but I feel as if I should at least try.

For most people, I presume, coming home makes a little part of your body, which usually stays unnoticed, tingle and come to life; a place in or on your body that only awakens when the magic word "home" is spoken. One looks forward to coming home to friends and family, old places with memories attached that brings forth a small smile or even a laugh. Time's filled with ppl to meet and places to see, memories to create and old times to be remembered.

The well-known phrase "home is where the heart is" I find more fitting when trying to explain my connotation to home. When I go home to the city where I was born and raised, I only long to see certain ppl. In other words, there's nothing about the city that I'm drawn to, that I miss, that I can't wait to see again. In fear of ppl jumping to a conclusion that this is due to a troublesome childhood etc, I must stress how this is not the case. I was once very happy in this city, but I can't claim that the social environment is a healthy one: it's consumed with judgment, expectations, pressure and measuring. Who you are supposed to be has strict parameters and rules and you're constantly being watched. Question is: who makes up the rules? Answer: nobody! They're apart of the air we breathe, the ground we stand on and the world we see. It looks different to all, but in some ways it looks the same and the interpretations are unified in the way they are expressed in ppl staying inside the parameters and obeying the rules.

I didn't like the rules, but I still ended up following most of them for quite some time. How? Suppressing who you truly are. Why? To avoid the spotlight of being green when everyone else is yellow. Then I moved. The city was suffocating me and the mask was peeling off; true colors were about to shine thru. And I let them. I love being green, yellow, black and orange all at the same time, and no one can tell me that it's wrong. They don't have a say. In what way can being me be wrong?

Unfortunately, the hidden strings that are forever attached to my past are beyond me and they still manage to tangle me up whenever I return home. I have been weighed. I have been measured.

I am tied down. I am in chains.