Real boobs, fake heart

‘Do you love me’, he asked and I replied ‘of course’. Automatic, like a machine gun. It wasnt true. I didnt love him. I dont think Ive ever loved anyone. Its quite possible I dont know what true love even is.


When I broke up with him I said I have feelings for your dick. Not for you. Ol heartless cunt again. See, this is my problem:

I can go into pornstar mode, do the fucking and the moaning part and put on an act that I really enjoy this. Sometimes I even do enjoy it. Thats part of the problem, I get so caught up in lust that I mistake it for love. When it fades Im left with nothing.


You were different though. I cant really place you in a category of feelings. I dont love you but I desire you like a maniac. Pure, raw lust- my favourite kinda drug. Im CURIOUS about you, and Ive never experienced that before. Not this intense.. Most people are easy to read. Few people truly excite me. I find most people boring, to be honest. Maybe thats why I love the junkies, they always come with a story. But you are as straight edge as they come. Weird. Unusual. I cant say whats going on here and I dont like it. Cant even tell whether you are friend or foe..

I always said Im heartless and you showed up and made that stone cold thing start pumping.

You asked me who can you trust and I replied myself. You laughed. Why the heck would you laugh?! I was in a crisis, dang it. Now Ive been through a lot of crises. Now I no longer trust myself. And I sure as hell do not trust you.

But theres an armada of butterflies in my stomach fluttering about each time I think of you. And my disturbed brain keeps whispering you might have my back. But then again, why? And why do I not remember where we first met? And why is it impossible for me to stop obsessing over these things?! Because its fucking weird!


All I know is

I always believed my heart was cold and fake

but you made it feel very warm, and WAY too real

I dont know how to handle this

I dont understand what I feel


*resting stonerface*


In the realm of despair

It’s cold in here, I said. The dark shadow responded «Of course it is. You thought it would be comfortable down here?!» «It’s just.. I mean you always hear that hell is supposed to be, uhm.. Really friggin’ hot you know..?» I stuttered, confused. The black stare of the shadow crucified me, and a raspy voice old as time said «Oh, ignorant little girl. This is NOT hell. We are somewhere far worse than there»

«S..So where exactly are we? It smells really bad here.. and my body hurts from head to toe. And I’m scared» I say, like some helpless little child. «You truly have no idea?» the shadow responds. «No!» I say, crying. The shadow gives its deadly stare again and when he talks it gives me the chills: «This, you fool- is halflife»

«Life?! But I didn’t choose life!» I think about it for a while. «But life is..» «Life is WHAT?» snarls the shadow. « Life is.. Spring, and sunsets.. Puppies and autumn and fireplaces.. Flowers and rainbows and coffee in the mornings» The shadow crucifies me with a stare once more: «But you did not CHOOSE that kinda life, now did you..?» «No» I say, feeling ashamed. «So why am I here then? When I chose death?»

A creepy smile; «Because, silly girl. Hell does not WANT you». My jaw drops.. «You mean, I’ve been rejected from HELL?! Who gets themselves rejected from HELL??» The shadow looks at me like I’m the dumbest creature he’s ever encountered (which is probably accurate). «You did. By being so ungrateful and taking all of life’s pleasures for granted. For sleeping away all your days. For being vain and obsessing over all the wrong things. For not calling your mum, and acting like the world owed you something. This is what happens to people like you: You end up in the realm of despair, neither life or death; Halflife».

«Oh fuck me then». I’ve always been a blunt motherfucker.

I open my eyes and realise it was neither a nightmare nor was it reality: It was.. This IS.. Halflife. THIS is my reality. I live..

In the realm of despair.

Cut the cord

Dra hendene dine sakte langs ryggen min. Press leppene dine mot halsen min. Si at du har savnet meg. Jeg bryr meg ikke om at du lyver.

Alt jeg har sett til deg i det siste er ryggen din. Du går alltid vekk fra meg. Stillhet er et språk det også. Ofte mer tydelig enn ord. Ofte mer sårende også.

Du elsket meg en gang, jeg kan ikke ta feil om dét. Jeg kan ta feil om alt annet i universet, bare jeg har rett om at du har hatt varme følelser for meg. Jeg kan leve med at det er i en fjern fortid, at det er over nå, men jeg ha betydd noe for deg, ellers.. Ellers vet jeg ikke hvordan jeg skal gå videre i livet. Jeg tror helt ærlig at jeg ikke kan føle det jeg gjør for noen andre. På dette tidspunktet burde du vite at jeg, når alt kommer til alt, bare bryr meg om deg. «You make me crazy» er en gjenganger i pop sjangeren, men for meg er det the real deal.

Jeg kan ikke fortsette sånn, hvorfor måtte du av alle være den som var der for meg?! Ja, jeg trengte deg kanskje som mest, men ikke sånn. Jeg vil ikke at du skal passe på meg. Jeg vil ikke at du skal komme brasende inn dørene som en jævla superhero, men fordufte når stormen har stillnet. Det er i stillheten jeg behøver deg mest. Jeg hadde glemt deg, fortrengt deg- plutselig er du der og ripper opp i ting jeg burde få lov til å glemme.

Hvorfor kan jeg med hånda på hjertet fortsatt si at jeg elsker deg? Hvorfor føles det mer rent og uforfalsket enn noe annet jeg har følt? Hvorfor kan du ikke si rett ut at følelsene mine er forgjeves, at du ikke vil ha meg? For jeg trenger å høre det.

Dans med meg. I mørket når ingen ser. Stønn inn i øret mitt. Du er så vakker at jeg sliter med å se for lenge på deg. You have the face of a god. And the soul of a sinner. Du er.. perfekt. Måten du går på. Stemmen din. Man kan ikke glemme sin første kjærlighet. Spesielt når den kommer for å hjemsøke en. You need to cut the cord, brutally and with no mercy. Break my aching heart in a million pieces. I promise I won’t need it.

The love that remains

You are the shadow creeping at the back of my mind

Constantly there, even when I’m not looking for you

If there was a way to ignore you, you would’ve been gone by now

But you’re not going anywhere, are you



You said you wanted someone you could set free

Oh, it’s bitter irony that you’re the one who imprisoned me..

I said I’d wait

I’ve said it so many times I could have bitten my tongue off

and yet I’m still lurking at your gate



It’s a weird thing; the love that remains when the lovers have drifted apart..

Some get to keep a pulse

while the other wanders off with their beating heart


I just got lost

Blood in my mouth. Glass in my eyes.. I always did have a temper. Please don't test me. I will blow up in your face.

The cops came to get me, as usual. Brutal, as usual. Humiliating, as usual. With the handcuffs and the mask to avoid my bloody spit. Being dragged into the car like some Hannibal Lecter. I'm not sorry. Told ya I'd blow up in your face. Just like the window blew up in mine.

Now hold up, just wait a second. Just hear me out.. I never ment to stray into your little playground. What else should I call it.. The place where you get to play nice guy. Only you're no nice guy, huh. Nah, you're the fucking worst. No one has ever fucked me over like you did, and to this day it still stings. You are the sole reason I keep falling back into your hellhole. You know it, that's the worst part.

No one likes me when I'm angry. I'm fine with that. I just wish just once someone would notice the sadness behind my anger, that's all. That I knew how to show it. Instead I'm breaking windows. Just like you are breaking hearts.

Save a spot for me

My nerves are raw. Feels like I’ve been skinned like some animal, I feel completely transparent. There’s life after this, they say; But I have my doubt. This infection goes deep.. The shame and the guilt are merciless and got me in a chokehold. I feel exposed like the fraud that I am, and no soothing words can help. Like someone poured gasoline on me and now I’m in flames, how can I escape the pain?! Please don’t make me attempt to make a comeback after this disaster, pretty please. Tell someone to save a spot for me in the ground. Tell mama not to let this break her. Tell my brother and my sisters it was what I wanted. My sweet escape.. Tell them to forgive me in time, I just wasn’t cut for it you know? Like something got under my skin at a young age, and I never learned to recover or how to heal when the bruising is internal. And as I grew up, my life gradually turned into the inferno it is today. I’m sorry. I tried, I really did. There’s life after this, they say. But I don’t want it.. Save a spot for me.



“Jeg” vil tenke positivt! tenker jeg, men Tanketyven sier “Nei det vil du IKKE”.. Og plutselig har jeg en dårlig dag.

“Jeg vil være litt optimist” tenker jeg, men Tanketyven skrur på det pessimistiske lyset i hodet mitt med en gang. 

“Jeg har bare dette ene livet og jeg skal leve det til fulle” tenker jeg, men Tanketyven brøler “SELVMORD!!” så det gjaller i skallen min.

Prøver å psyke meg selv opp, og vips dukker Tanketyven opp i et hjørne og hvisker ydmykende ting jeg har sagt og gjort til jeg blir liggende å drukne i mine egne fadeser.

Jævla tanketyv og jævla hodet mitt også, som lar seg så lett forlede inn på mørke stier. Det blir aldri fred der oppe, når alle parter er korrupt og jobber for at dysterheten skal regjere oppi der til en hver tid. Jeg har prøvd å foreslå lobotomering når alle rundt meg spør “Hvordan kan vi hjelpe deg??” og blir like oppgitt hver gang det blir møtt med latter, for jeg mener det faktisk. Samtidig vet jeg at Tanketyven er litt som en feit rotte jeg har foret opp i skjul i årevis, så det er ikke rart den har begynt å spise av meg. Jeg vet bare ikke helt hvordan man tar livet av en tanketyv. Den er sleip som en ål, og glatt som en sel, smidig som en slange og lur som Einstein. Tanketyven kan ikke avlives eller omplasseres, kan ikke bruke cellegift eller skalpell for å kutte den bort.. Man kan visstnok ignorere den ihjel, men det har jeg ikke i meg tror jeg. Kanskje jeg innerst inne har blitt glad i Tanketyven og ser på den som en venn?! Hadde vært tyyypisk meg.

Faen ass..

Con artist

He asked me if I was only thinking with my cunt, and I lied and said of course not. Mistake number one, don’t lie, cuz if you get caught that’s it- they will never trust you again. But I wasn’t caught, so I got to go ahead and fuck my life up. That’s the only fucking I get these days, I’ve officially become one of those un-dateable women and I’m fine with it of course, If it wasn’t for you I mean. What the hell are you even doing in a place like this. You blew my mind, not right away because you are not handsome in that way, or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. But once I got my eyes up for you, that was it. I love how you talk so slow, you sound dirty without even trying to be. I wish I was more like that, I can do the dressing up part and use what I got part, but it’s always a lot of work for me- You are effortless in seducing people, I’m more of a con artist.

We played a round of card games, and I just wanted to scream “Put down your fucking cards and do me on the table”, thank god I didn’t. Would have been so typical of me to do just that, always acting like a horny neanderthal, never quite figured out subtle flirting. Never figured out subtle anything. You remind me of a male barbiedoll I used to have in the 90’ies, Malibu Ken I think. I told you that, me not mastering subtle again. Didn’t even mean it as a compliment, because the only reminder was how I shaved Malibu Kens hair off and it makes me wanna shave YOUR hair off, but you still went ahead and grabbed yourself a compliment. Damn it! I was finally starting to act cool. No, that’s a lie again because even a blind person would have noticed me obviously drooling over you.

Anyway, so I fall in love easily. Just pay me five minutes of attention and that does the trick for me. How the hell could I not be thinking with my cunt, I don’t have a goddamn brain. I’m starting to think I don’t have a heart either, so maybe it’s not that I fall in love easily- maybe it’s more that I fall in lust easily. Yeah, that sounds legit. It doesn’t happen that often, but once it does.. I hate it. There’s nothing cute about it; falling in lust with someone. It’s like being a fly caught in the spider’s web, and you can feel the tension and the web vibrating and you just know this shit is gonna eat you alive, but you are stuck and can only wait for that dang spider to eat you piece by piece. Slowly. Painful.. For some reason I still want to fuck you tho’. It’s always the ones you can’t have, ain’t it.

Show me the infection

Sweat is dripping down my spine. It’s the Shame Monster again, here to whisper in my ear and talk trash while I’m just trying to walk outside my own apartment, outside those four walls. He finds me there too, naturally- as he is fluid as water and light as air and no doors can shut him out. Sometimes i stoop so low I think he’s actually my friend, trying to seduce me into an early grave because he got shit figured out and he knows what’s best for me since we’ve known each other for ever.. He knows all my embarassments, from the small ones to the big juicy stuff; He’s sitting on an arsenal of weapons against my self esteem and holy shit- does he know where my weak spots are. “Don’t attend that wedding, you’ll only embarass yourself”, “Don’t take that exam, you’ll fail and go crazy again”, “Crazy, crazy, you are craaaaazy”. GOD, SHUT HIM UP! And he laughs, and I take a closer look because that’s a female laugh right there, and I look straight into my own eyes and damn, I hate those eyes right back and I realize.. I’m the Shame Monster. Damn.


I miss you

I miss you, crazy girl.

With your positive vibes and loud laughter. Your energy, like a hurricane.

Spontaneous, emotional, how you could be mad angry and then it’s over- just like that. So bloody passionate, creative.. Funny, you were funny. Even when you were scared no one would laugh..


I’m so sad you died. You were the best parts of me.


Now it’s hard to go to sleep and even harder to wake up. I never know what time it is, there’s nothing to keep track on. Have no energy for things like working out, can barely take a shower. Sometimes not even that. Do not respond to texts or calls, avoid eyecontact, does not always speak when spoken to. Stopped enjoying things like walks in the rain, sunshining days, good company.. Seems to only discuss matters such as death and funerals, does not give a shit about politics, injustice, anything that really matters.


Have come to learn that depression acts like a sneaky thief, stealing parts of you bit by bloody bit, until there is nothin left. Well, nothing that you like.


Leave you with the chainsmoking, the greedy appetite, the self absorbed and vain obsession, the scrutinizing brain always searching, kicking yourself in the teeth and whipping your own back because damn it: You should be moving


But you are standing still, ’cause all the stolen parts of you are blocking the way


And you understand that the sneaky thief was really.. You.