Unraveling..

When I make a mistake, or fuck up in any way I would spend a long time beating myself up about it. I would be going on in my mind about why I did something like that? How could I be so stupid or so messed up? I would go really deep. It felt horrible. So today in a conversation with myself I somehow stumbled on the subject. All of a sudden it really did dawn on me how reckless I can sometimes be with myself. It came down to me asking myself: if I did something to someone that hurt them, and then I realized I really fucked up, I apologized and did or intended to do what was right by them and then the person forgave me and we agreed to move on. How would I feel if that person then came up to me everyday to remind me how much I fucked up, every day! When they are not with me they want to chat about it, how would that make me feel? Obviously it would suck, especially if I am truly doing right by them to the best of my abilities. The next then question was, so why the hell do I do i...

On the first of July I moved into a tiny room on the first floor of a three story accommodation in Saltriver. Each wall of this room had a different colour: pink, beige and I think, grey. The floor was tiled and there was an empty white cupboard there, it smelled new. It also had a built in beige-ish desk and one of those adjustable black chairs with wheels.   I didn't like the room much. I particularly hated the pink wall. The room had only one small window which faced the corridor. So I moaned about living like a person in solitary confinement, because I had to keep my room light switched on at all times otherwise it was complete darkness regardless of what time of the day it was. In addition, I also found out soon enough that I was the only female on that floor. So imagine the places my judgmental mind went. Nonetheless this was my room, MY room. This was the first time in my life I could actually say those words. For the first time I would sleep alone in a space th...