I’ll do my best to bring chickens and tiny donkeys but i can’t promise anything

I want it to be you. I’m crushing. For the first time in forever I’m actually crushing. Not just feeling meh or I should be doing this but actual ‘I really want to see you again and I’ll make up dreams about our future and our kids will be so cute and I wonder what you like so I can talk to you about it because I want you to like me.’

So I add you on FB because I can not not. And I write something silly about dancing and I sit there and keep watching for the little icon shouting out if you’ve seen it or not. And I wait. And in the space of waiting I have time to dream our future about 100 times.

You answer me. Something equally silly about the countryside and hang overs and being tired.

The crushing gets worse because maybe, just maybe, you like me a little bit too. I google you. Screen print your picture. Do all the things you would never admit when playing cool. Our conversation runs out and I hope you’ll write again and I know that if I get tipsy I will but I try not to because of the cool.

You send a picture. Tell me how beautiful the countryside is. Make me want to jump in a car and get to you even if I can’t drive. We joke about you buying a mini donkey and suddenly I have a new found interest for miniature donkeys with funny hair do’s.

I go on a date with someone else but I keep wishing it was you which is horrible but I don’t care but I’m just glad there is someone I wish I was on a date with. I come home, I’m tipsy, I check the phone if you have written anything but you haven’t and five butterflies die in my stomach.

When I wake up and look at my phone there is a message from you

‘I think you are awesome and I can’t wait to dance with you again. I’ll do my best to bring chickens and tiny donkeys but I can’t promise anything. It might just be little me. Xx’

Sent 03.26. The time when you are lying in bed writing the things that you don’t dare to say in the brightness of the day.

Hundred new butterflies take the place of the dead ones.

We are a head taller than anyone else in there

Sister and I are in Prague. We meet at the airport and take a cab to the flat we have borrowed from Dad’s friend. It’s in the middle of town in a cute house with the most touristy, sweet little restaurant on the ground floor.

It’s so hot. It’s the first trip we do together the two of us and we wear colourful dresses and sunhats and almost melt away walking the streets. So we stop at restaurants and my sister eat feta salad and I eat traditional Czech food and we both drink beer after beer.

We are amazed by how beautiful the city are and we try to see some sights but mostly we just talk. That is really why we are here, to talk. We are the same my sister and I. Good and bad. We have an appetite for life and can make people happy with our smiles. We talk loud and walk into a room and own it. We have big hearts and dream big and smile a lot and sometimes we think we can do anything.

But we are also prone to depressions and question ourselves. We sometimes grow tired of being loved and want to hide away from the people that need us. The need to flee sometimes get so strong we want to give up. We give until there is nothing left to give and then we have nothing.

In Prague we talk about all of those things. Of the dreams that never happened and the ones that are still there. Of how amazing it is that we are sisters. Of love and sadness and ups and downs and being us.

On the last night we have talked about it all. So we go out, drink too many drinks and dance. People can tell we are sisters because of the smiles both of us have. The never ending kind. The kind that make people ask what we are on. And that we are a head taller than anyone else in there. And drink like men and swear like sailors.

And on that dance floor, dancing with my sister who understands me so well, the pieces of my heart fall back into place and I know I will be ok. Because love.

Exhale the bullshit

Friday. Tove is on her way to London, make up is on point and I am ready take you on. We are going to OOOAW tonight. Hopefully not too big since im pretty tired after two nights drinking already. But, knowing myself ill be necking jägerbombs like there truly is no tomorrow.

Met with unicorn guy yesterday. Such a sweetie but will not be my next boyfriend. He did bring me werthers though, you have to love a man with a gift. But in the spirit of cutting down, not upping the amount of men, I need to kill this one. And stop tinder for a while. And make something real happen because that is what i want anyway.

With the power to change you

It’s hot. Crazy hot. I’ve left the RV to do a little wander on my own. Need to get away and think. Life is messy and I’m struggling to get things straight and in this journey is a hope to find…something.

I pass by where I know your RV is supposed to be. You sent a text before coming here.

’Come see me when you get there’

And I remember smiling to myself. You have that effect on me. You are like stepping into an adventure. A whirlwind. Spending time with you is losing myself and becoming someone new. Your effect on me is unlike anyone I know. You tear down my walls without even trying. With you I run giggling through HM on Manhattan trying to find clothes to dance big in and hide behind mannequins. With you I have a snowball fights until I gasp for air. With you I dance sober in the street, I stay awake all night talking about my depressions, I dance naked on a boat with a whiskey glass in my hand.

With you I’m 26 and an ice queen and heartbroken and scared of boys and you make me listen to you playing the guitar for me which I hate because it makes me feel and I wake up screaming from a nightmare of being stuck on a boat with you and i tell you and you laugh at me and play me another song until I fall asleep again.

 I walk up to your RV but you aren’t there.

‘He hasn’t been back all night. He is out partying somewhere’ the guy says and I realise I won’t see you today but its ok because I’m here and you are the reason because I never forgot when we met in New York and talked all night and you looked at me and said:

‘There is this magical place in the desert. You have to go there. It’s made for you. You will find what you are looking for.’

And I knew it was true. So I came here. Because of your words and what they do to me.

I wander on. Look at all the people. Feel things fall into place. Things I can’t yet define but will change me forever. I see a golden tent and decide to stay. Have a drink and a dance. By myself. Because this is a place where you do that.

Suddenly arms circle me, I get lifted up into the air and you swing me around and give me kiss on my forehead.

‘Cissi. You are here. I knew I would see you.’

You smile. You look like a desert djinn in white balloon trousers and bare chest, tanned and glittery and somehow I’m not even surprised we ran into each other in a place with 80 000 people because you always show up when I need it, when I’m looking for answers.

We dance. And then you take my hand and take me to your vehicle thingie. ‘I’ll show you everything that is out there’ you say. And you do. You take me to a ball you climb up in and hoist me up when I can’t get there. We go to the temple and leave notes for loved ones. We sit under a shade next to a couple kissing and talk about life. We ride around wind in hair and you make me do the Jack and Rose pose even if I protest.

When we get back to the tent and your friends I hug you. And I know I won’t see you again until I need to. It doesn’t make me sad, it’s what’s supposed to be. Because us is not a love story, it’s not even really a story about friendship.

Us is a story about the people that have the power to change you.

The stories will continue

You guys seemed to appreciate my little starry eyed love snippet yesterday. If this was a blog that had more than 10 readers it would probably have been my most read post. But the 10 of you are loyal, you tend to read all my posts. Arigatou.

I did however get some whatsapp pings of the type ‘you have to meet him again’ (but he’s my muse. I need to pine from afar to create art) and ‘start writing goddammit’ (why do you think im vacuum cleaning tinder at the moment? Its all for the stories).

Anyway, I say the people have spoken (on the writing, not seeing the guy again) and ill keep posting little stories here. They’ll most likely be highly emotional since, well, im a highly sentimental woman. Bear with me. Who knows, one day you might call me a modern day Jane Austen (modesty, bah).

Otherwise in my world. Went for dinner yesterday with Lollo’s crew. We ate meat. Loads of it. There were also some countryside road tripping planned. Then Soho House. 

Texted with short ass (yeah he deserves that after the ‘non date’ because my height) and he was mightily disappointed with me going all fancy rather than gritty East London gigs. You just cant please them all.

Tonight date in Brixton. Its been a long time coming since we’ve been texting for 2 weeks. And he wants to give me a unicorn onsie. But do hate the whole first date with someone you dont know. But i do it for you peeps – the stories.

That first time

‘So, what will our origin story be?’ you ask and take a drag on your cigarette. Your eyes twinkle and I know you are flirting. In that way I love. With words and smiles and questions and joining me in my adventures.

‘This. This is our origin story’ I answer and drag you up on the dance floor.

And we dance. For hours. We create our story between smiles, laughs and getting to know each other. You grimace when you realise how much I hate cycling. ‘Now we can never get married’ you say and hours later you come and ask me why. Ask me to give you reasons for hating something you love.

I see you in the corner of my eye all night. See you watching me. ‘I have never seen anyone smile like you, you are so happy’. You say this again and again and when the music change and I get tired you ask me what I want to hear because you want to keep seeing my smile, keep me happy.

So you change it to the music you love and it does make me smile and we dance.

I jump up on the table and you join me carrying an umbrella and I think to myself that this is what I want, someone who joins me in my silly. The table almost breaks under us and we jump off in a laughing tumble and sit down to smoke together.

‘I keep people’ I say. ‘I find the amazing ones and keep them forever’

‘So keep me’. You wink at me and i might feel a tiny butterfly. Its hard to say with all the happiness of the night.

I like that you like me. And I like you. But I don’t know how to do this. How to like someone. So I keep twirling just out of your reach and in the end of the night I go to bed. I hug you goodnight and you look into my eyes.

‘This was a great origin story’

And a part of me wish it was true, that this is just the beginning of you and me.

The puzzle queen

Worked from home yesterday in wait for a delivery. Good for me because it meant i could keep laying my puzzle. Because damn its addictive.

What up with this puzzle thing one might ask. Valid. I decided i needed a hobby that had zero chance for alcohol and remembered loving puzzles as a kid so why not.

Went to the store and decided to go big on a 1000 piece puzzle. Because im fly like that.

Invited Albin over. We puzzled for like 5 hours. I mean, who does netflix and chill these days? Bad asses puzzle. He had bought me ice cream to cheer me up in my mentally challenged Monday state. That melted away while we were both engrossed in this riveting past time (well, some of it might have been eaten as well)

Come yesterday I spent most of the day staring at this frustrating, rewarding and oddly calming picture. I mostly put the same coloured pieces together to make it look like i got further than i have.

Then i took selfies to show i do more than drink. And to prove the puzzle do what planned. Jean asked me if I wanted to go to a gig and I even dolled up, gold skirt and make up, before taking a nap to NOT bail when i woke up. Slept there like a dead egyptian queen. Then i woke up, saw the puzzle and the rain and decided to stay home.

Puzzle vs jägerbomb 1-0

Then this guy happened. Yes. Amazed that not more guys understand that the way to a womans heart really go through books. And that its the best way to get to know someoone to know what they read. And that the best gift someone could ever give you is their favourite books. That really means something.

(yes, my copy of A little life still sits at home waiting for the right person)