A well mind

I think they think they are lucky.

They say I'm the broken one, who keeps trying to find home; who keeps moving because nobody tells her to stop. Well nobody is worth stopping for.

They say I'm the broken one because I keep loving and adoring the life and people around me; because I don't moan on simple difficulties. 

They say I'm the broken one, because I am more alone, just because I'm not with them. 

I think they are lucky.

Yet I'm the one who wakes up; eats breakfast and in the end of the day, goes to sleep with a sun in my heart.

A belief that there is something more than just what is visible for the eye. 

Somebody has a hand on my heart and shoulder. Even when I feel I'm not the lucky one... then I actually know that I am. 

The broken, yet the luckiest one. 

(wanders in stockholm) 

“They tell me that living is like this: bills, three square meals a day, a hobby, and more bills. Sleeping in a bed with someone every night for 50+ years. Never dreaming too big. There is a beast in me that hungers for more, more meaning, more depth, more ocean. Something colorful and loud.

They tell me that living is like this: going on proper dates with proper people, waiting to say I love you, waiting to feel.
Give me the most violent love I can take. Give me God’s angry fire. I can’t survive on air. The words I never said will strangle me in my sleep. I refuse to die in such a quiet way.”

—	Flowers that grow in the dark