The Door

The Ice rushes forward towards the massive doorway hoping to reach past it before it finds the time to close. Having been created from form the chill of loneliness, sadness and pain, its only purpose is freezing that which is beyond the doorway. Madly it chases, as before, intent on making it this time. The door creaks and starts to close, slowly at first but picking up the pace, making it a race between the ice and the door. The ice slams to the fine worked door just as i closes and has to see itself beaten once more. Furious it freezes all that is around it. Slowly, very slowly it thawes, except for som places; the keyholes. Each keyholde frozen solid, above it a name; the name of the ones holding those specific keys. A new keyhole have appeared with the others, and with it a new name. One can still its freshness and judging by the amount of ice in and around it, it was a finely crafted key. The ice presses on, trying to get through the keyholes, but as of still they are too few for it to have an effect. The door however is affected; the iced keyholes affect the opening mechanism of the door, each one slightly more, making it harder to open.

Curses

I'm alone again, it's never easy, it's never "just" a breakup. Curse the world, curse whatever's wrong with me, and most of all: curse all the persons leading me to this. This potential madness, this dark mind, this ice of the heart. Never before have I felt such an urge to seal myself in ice, only to watch the world speed by through a layer of frozen carelessness. What manner of bad fortune have cursed me to relive this torment time and again. My sins were never many and never dire, yet I pay tenfold, nay thousandfold for them. Even the ones I never comitted. Is this the price for being born me? Is this what I must go through to amuse the gods of fate? I spit my curses over this wasteland of humanity as I craft a shell of pure me. Nothing gets between me and me.

....Brooding in the Darkness

I'm sitting in the darkness, brooding for myself, thinking dark thoughts reflecting my even darker mood. In my inner eye all people I look at die, by my hand. Not because I really want to kill anyone, it's just that kind of mood. And when I see her picture I cannot distinguish any details, my eyes veiled over by tears and my inner eye covered in oily black. I cry out to the darkness with the voice of a dreadfull silence, my heart trying to beat away the oncoming frost, while the mind spirals inward in a whirlpool of despair. I lose myself in the moments, letting them patch over each other, time slipping like it's having trouble deciding where it was at. I close my eyes and let all color flow away, I shut my mind and draw a great breath, sucking up all the corruption and bad air I can hold. I fall backwards, hoping that noone will ever catch me.

What to tell the world?

I've been bugged about writing more often..... *sigh* I write all the time, I just never post. I write line after line, time after time, and then, instead of posting them, I just delete them. If you read this then this post has been one of the lucky ones. One of those I chose to keep. I know of one thing I wanted to write about, though it might be that I don't. I wanted to tell the tale of the guy I was at the LARP I participated in recently. But I never get the time. It's just....one of these things I guess, with growing up. Suddendly all the world's at your feet, ALL THE TIME. So this is all you get at the moment... Perhaps I'll feel more......writy, later.

17. of May

Norwegian History R.
I stepped out of my flat with a determined look upon my brow; I was going for the ultimate prey, the very definition of constitution. I was going for the elusive "whole day of partying." Many hunts this very sought after mark, but few even glimpse it. Many of those who gets to see it ends up dead; never being able to feel the warmth of their loved ones again. Knowing this I still set out, just after dawnbreak, the snow muffling the sound of my steps. I glimpsed what would be my prey to come soon after, and in few minutes the hunt was on. I moved in on it and quickly discarded my excess clothing to be able to move freely and without hinderance as the chase took to begin. Champagne to help me calm down and bread with cheese and assorted meats to help me going. Just past noon did I get to go in close with this fiend and we started to wrestle. It was intense and to be able to even keep my own morale up I supplied myself with beer. The mighty brawl seemed to go in my favour even, at least for a while, but then by some sort of accident it got away. Grabbing what I could find of equipment I took up it's trace and tracked it for a good while. The tracks led me far away though and I lost them again somewhere furter south. Seeing the opportunity to have a quick rest I set up camp and replenished my lost strength with chicken, scampi and som liquor to keep the warmth. It didn't take long however before fresh tracks were found and the hunt was once more on. Again I tracked the beast down and this time, having sung the old songs for victory I again went close and personal with the beast. Intoxicated by the thrill of the fight I flowed through the night, cought in a dance of passion and the burning heat of battle. Many of my comrades had to call it quits but me, I kept going 'till the very end. And when the end came, it was a ambivalent feeling; I had gotten my victory over this prey, and even though I was exhausted, it felt very good. But I can't help but admit that it was a bit hollow in the end, as I realized that the hunt and the feeling of the battle is the better part. And with guns still smoking I left the scene of the nights events, with a girl in my mind and a grin on my face.

Somehow not surprised

The world usually just seem to spiral towards a fiery end, keeping a constant acceleration towards the inevitable implosion, with the human race at a center. This is nothing unusual. And you witness brutal murders, rapes, kidnappings as the news print their headlines bigger and more controversial in an attempt to top what they have previously written. "29 year old dude killed 5 year old chick. Neigbours say he seemed like a nice person" What the hell is a nice person anyways, and why can't a nice person get to kill anyone? Everybody else is doing it, it's kinda unfair to give this nice fella so much attention. At least in this day and age when it harder to resist the urges to kill than to actually give in to them. People won't say it, but at some point most people have played with the thought of removing someone that's in the way. There's a reason for why we actually need threats to keep people from comitting crimes. But hypocritic as we are we try our best to exclude those who give in to the call, try as hard as we can to separate them from us; a process that just makes them feel like their something else, something that for some reason can do these actions. And why should it matter, it's not like they can return to society anyways? And at a point we are happy about this, because deep down inside, it's hard for a human to admit that it's human; to admit that all those things lie there inside, dormant and waiting, knowing that had the circumstances been different, it'd be their asses on the line. And why do I care about this? One day, far far from this one, I'd like to be acknowledged as an animal rather than a human. But no one will care, because at that point, humans would be pretty preoccupied with correcting the errors they have inflicted. WWIII perhaps? Or the accute need to do something for the enviroment. And I'll just watch, as an animal, as a monster, as a non-human. Watch what have been done to this earth.

Bar, beer and texas hold'em

Now, as usual I feel that nothing special has happened in my somewhat seemingly drab life, but this time I have to admit that this ain't anything close to the truth. I've started to work as a volunteer in the student-pub "Uglebo". Now this here is a blog I wanted to write yesterday as I was walking home from work but found myself too sleepy to go through with. The base of it all was reflecting on how I could be SO happy with working in the bar when I don't get paid other than two beers after closing time. It hit me that, sure, I don't make much material goods with this job but the feeling, the fun I have, the friends I make. It's worth it, simple as that. Sure I have to do a job that I actually find kinda amusing and sure I can't start to drink as early as I sometimes have been known to do.... You get the point. So it hit me, I don't really think I'm that material, it's seldom the pure materialism in things that appeal to me, it's not a woman's outer beauty, it's the inner, it's not the pay that decides what I want to be, it's the actual enviroment and work itself. It's all about enjoying the most, the best, at all times. I'm NOT going to die with regret, I'm not going to lead such a life, I'm going to enjoy this all the way, for that's the true meaning of life.