måndag 11 oktober 2010
Det är SÅ störigt att jag ännu en gång måste rodda med uthyrningen av min lägenhet. Otroligt irriterande och tidskrävande, speciellt när man sitter i ett annat land. De senaste hyresgästerna bodde i typ två månader och nu ska det fixas igen. Påtryck och annat och jag känner mig irriterad. Borde egentligen sätta ut annons på Blocket där folk verkligen, verkligen gör allt för att få hyra. Usch. Styr och fix kan dra. Jag måste hitta några som inte tänker andra tankar när dem börjar hyra. Ett par glada lirare som fått en lägenhet, folk från en annan stad.
söndag 10 oktober 2010
Trollstigen

Idag åkte jag och Anders till Trollstigen. Hua vad högt det var. Det var läskigt att stå på den här platån och bara, öh jag kommer dö.

Nu blev det ju helt fel ordning, för det här är på kvällen då vi åkte ut till Alnes och kollade solnedgången.

Läbbigt va?

Jag ville ta ett hoppkort, fick svinont i fötterna efteråt, men det var det värt.

Så vackert va? Jag har satt på vattenstämpel på en del kort, mest för att jag tycker det är lite coolt men också för att när det är kort som är ens egna kan det vara bra.
Bästa dagen i alla fall.
Ja! Nu tar vi och åker hit.
Gud så kul det ska bli. Trollstigen med min älskade kille. En mysdag. Vilket lyckligt liv jag har. Åh orka vara asglad en söndagsmorgon, jag vet men jag var inte ute igår.
Gud så kul det ska bli. Trollstigen med min älskade kille. En mysdag. Vilket lyckligt liv jag har. Åh orka vara asglad en söndagsmorgon, jag vet men jag var inte ute igår.
fredag 8 oktober 2010
torsdag 7 oktober 2010

Det kröp just en stor spindel över golvet bredvid mig. Jag är tjej men yppade inte ett ord. Jag gick lugnt och fint till köket och hämtade ett glas och fångade den. Nu vet jag inte vad jag ska göra. Anders skulle bli galen om jag dödar den. Jag får återblickar från Gran Canaria med Vicky då våra sadosidor tittade fram och vi gjorde livet svårt för en stackars rackare. Långdraget och plågsamt. Fy. Ska låta den där leva men hur får jag ut den utan att den smiter. Aja. Spindeldagar i Ålesund.
onsdag 6 oktober 2010
Det känns som jag tassat upp mitt i natten, ett dovt mörker ligger som ett täcke utanför och huvudet är tungt och jag är trött. Ovan. Lever mitt liv i andra tider. Går helst inte upp före elva, somnar helst inte före två. Fantastiskt är det. Vill bara säga det, en vacker dag kommer man behöva stå upp kl 7 på morgonen igen så det är fint att kunna passa på att sova. Sova är skönt.
söndag 3 oktober 2010
igår fick de varandra efter 8 månader

Maren, Rhys och Ida. Rhys och Maren har inte sett varann på 8 månader, han är från Australien, igår överraskade han henne och har fått visum för att bo i Norge ett år till. Heja!

Birte hade kvällens coolaste kamera.


Han är min och så fin.

Det var fest som ni ser.

Lena?!
Hej hej, jag mår så otroligt dåligt idag. Baksmällan från helvetet är på besök.
fredag 1 oktober 2010
romantik
Han kom hem efter jobbet med en ros i handen. Killar där ute, viktigt. Köp en ros ibland man blir så helvetes glad och har man varit ihop länge och inte ligger varje dag längre så blir det garanterat liggfest efter. Jag blev så glad att jag ville gråta. Rörd och glad. Vilken kille. Ja jesus vilken kille.
JAAA!

Jag är SÅ jävla glad! Jag är så jävla röd i fjeset. Det dunkar bakom kinden. Jag klarade rundan runt berget. Yes! 8 km hård terräng och en backe på 1,9 km rakt upp. Jag klarade det. Kanske trott att jag upplevt runners high förut men aldrig på det här sättet. Jag klarade det. Fa-an så stolt jag är. BRA FRIDA! Heja.
You just left me a note saying your things were packed and that you're leaving later that night.
"Im leaving tonight, all my things are packed".
Two years earlier you glanced at me with those eyes. Those big brown flirty eyes of yours. Those eyes that i fell completely and helplessly in love with. I only took a week for me to know you were the one. The way you held my head when kissing my eyelid made me pretty sure that you felt the same way. And you did. We could lay in bed for a hole day just touching each other. You told me all about your family and how hard it was for you to grow up in an English speaking country when you had skin from another continent. I listened. You told me about bombs crashing down not far from your home and how you sat next to your uncles dead body for 8 hours just crying your heart out. You sometimes cried while telling me awful things. I cried too. Just for feeling your pain. I sat behind you stroking your long hair. Whispering that you are not alone any more.
When you entered a room i fell through the ground several times, my knees just disappeared and I gasped for air. I was in love. So in love with all of you. Sometimes I became sad just for thinking you would leave me. I painted daydreams of you saying you hated me and I was just a cheap fuck for you. I never told you those thoughts. I knew we where more. I knew we where for ever. Two years went by pretty fast and my feelings towards you just grew stronger and I felt powerful and totally happy. Until three weeks ago when I came home from school and saw a little note laying on the kitchen table. First I thought it was some kind of sick joke, I tried calling you but you didn't pick up. Slowly it came to me, this was it. This were you breaking up with me. I became angry, smashing my hand against the wall. Screaming ugly words to the window and my reflection staring back at me. I called you again telling you to go screw yourself, that Im throwing all of your things away, I just screamed until my voice cracked and I fell through the ground once again, but not from butterflies, from ache. My heart broke into a million pieces and I just cried. I cried for hours, just laying on the floor. I sobbed. I tried to stop breathing for a while. Tried to end the suffering. I held my breath for longer than ever before. Then you came home. Found me on the floor with my eyes swollen and my voice broken. You didn't say much. Just padded me on my forehead, saying you where sorry. That you knew you were a coward for writing a note. I begged. I held you refusing to let go, saying that I would kill myself if you left. Calling you a murderer cause you murdered my heart and it will never be alive again. You left me with a dying heart on the floor and now three weeks after you haven't come back. I call you everyday. Don't really want to but I do. I can't not. Sometimes you don't pick up even though I know you see it's me. It's me. The girl with the murdered heart.
"Im leaving tonight, all my things are packed".
Two years earlier you glanced at me with those eyes. Those big brown flirty eyes of yours. Those eyes that i fell completely and helplessly in love with. I only took a week for me to know you were the one. The way you held my head when kissing my eyelid made me pretty sure that you felt the same way. And you did. We could lay in bed for a hole day just touching each other. You told me all about your family and how hard it was for you to grow up in an English speaking country when you had skin from another continent. I listened. You told me about bombs crashing down not far from your home and how you sat next to your uncles dead body for 8 hours just crying your heart out. You sometimes cried while telling me awful things. I cried too. Just for feeling your pain. I sat behind you stroking your long hair. Whispering that you are not alone any more.
When you entered a room i fell through the ground several times, my knees just disappeared and I gasped for air. I was in love. So in love with all of you. Sometimes I became sad just for thinking you would leave me. I painted daydreams of you saying you hated me and I was just a cheap fuck for you. I never told you those thoughts. I knew we where more. I knew we where for ever. Two years went by pretty fast and my feelings towards you just grew stronger and I felt powerful and totally happy. Until three weeks ago when I came home from school and saw a little note laying on the kitchen table. First I thought it was some kind of sick joke, I tried calling you but you didn't pick up. Slowly it came to me, this was it. This were you breaking up with me. I became angry, smashing my hand against the wall. Screaming ugly words to the window and my reflection staring back at me. I called you again telling you to go screw yourself, that Im throwing all of your things away, I just screamed until my voice cracked and I fell through the ground once again, but not from butterflies, from ache. My heart broke into a million pieces and I just cried. I cried for hours, just laying on the floor. I sobbed. I tried to stop breathing for a while. Tried to end the suffering. I held my breath for longer than ever before. Then you came home. Found me on the floor with my eyes swollen and my voice broken. You didn't say much. Just padded me on my forehead, saying you where sorry. That you knew you were a coward for writing a note. I begged. I held you refusing to let go, saying that I would kill myself if you left. Calling you a murderer cause you murdered my heart and it will never be alive again. You left me with a dying heart on the floor and now three weeks after you haven't come back. I call you everyday. Don't really want to but I do. I can't not. Sometimes you don't pick up even though I know you see it's me. It's me. The girl with the murdered heart.
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