Sunshine melancholy.
I realized last night that I am a strangely determined person.
And if someone wants me to change my opinion about them,
they have to show me that they can change.
I am not narrowminded, I try to see things from a different angle.
But I do have a hard time letting go of my determination.
I do not let people walk right in and out of my life when it suits them.
I am not your one-man game. So do not treat me like a chess-piece.
If you want a made-up smile you can look elsewhere.
I am what I am, there are no excuses and there are no escapes.
Anymore, at least.
I am what I am, and maybe I am hard to deal with.
And if you do not want or care to figure me out - I will not let you.
I am what I am - even if I do not fully understand myself.
I see no reason in understanding myself at this point (even
though I love trying to figure myself out, and I like to think that
I do know myself pretty well).
You can call me childish, you can call me immature.
But your actions are never real, and your advice are like dust to me.
I will not smear on a pokerface because it might be the right thing to do.
I am obligated to my feelings.
I will be sad, I will be fucking pissed off, I will be indifferent.
It is my right. A right I will joyfully claim.
Maybe I am too passionate.
I find myself being the most passionate when I am completely alone.
Even such a thing as looking out the window can feel like an experience.
I am passionate about love, as much as I am passionate about hate.
I love life so much I desperately hate it as well.
Another day is another wish, and I would not watch it slipping by.
There is always music on my radio - metaphorically speaking.
Sometimes my favorite song comes on, and everything feels like
rainbows and sunshines, and I just want to dance until it ends.
Sometimes I am sick and tired of it, that feeling that you have
heard that same old song - about a gazillion times before,
and you wonder - will it ever, ever go away?
Sometimes I just need a pause, to stop and think for a while,
a little break from voices and noises.
My eye.
By: Eleanor Löfgren.
And if someone wants me to change my opinion about them,
they have to show me that they can change.
I am not narrowminded, I try to see things from a different angle.
But I do have a hard time letting go of my determination.
I do not let people walk right in and out of my life when it suits them.
I am not your one-man game. So do not treat me like a chess-piece.
If you want a made-up smile you can look elsewhere.
I am what I am, there are no excuses and there are no escapes.
Anymore, at least.
I am what I am, and maybe I am hard to deal with.
And if you do not want or care to figure me out - I will not let you.
I am what I am - even if I do not fully understand myself.
I see no reason in understanding myself at this point (even
though I love trying to figure myself out, and I like to think that
I do know myself pretty well).
You can call me childish, you can call me immature.
But your actions are never real, and your advice are like dust to me.
I will not smear on a pokerface because it might be the right thing to do.
I am obligated to my feelings.
I will be sad, I will be fucking pissed off, I will be indifferent.
It is my right. A right I will joyfully claim.
Maybe I am too passionate.
I find myself being the most passionate when I am completely alone.
Even such a thing as looking out the window can feel like an experience.
I am passionate about love, as much as I am passionate about hate.
I love life so much I desperately hate it as well.
Another day is another wish, and I would not watch it slipping by.
There is always music on my radio - metaphorically speaking.
Sometimes my favorite song comes on, and everything feels like
rainbows and sunshines, and I just want to dance until it ends.
Sometimes I am sick and tired of it, that feeling that you have
heard that same old song - about a gazillion times before,
and you wonder - will it ever, ever go away?
Sometimes I just need a pause, to stop and think for a while,
a little break from voices and noises.
My eye.
By: Eleanor Löfgren.
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