(Source: Yana Payusova, http://farbrook.net/payusova/)

Will they ever be forgiven? That question wraps up around my body and I cannot let it go. Will they? Does any of us really get a chance for a clean slate to free ourselves from our past mistakes? Can we let go of the past and judge someone solely on the basis of who they are today, of who they promise to become tomorrow?

They throw themselves into religion, but with what purpose? They seek redemption, like all of us do. But is the world too unforgiving? We praise the bible and the church but it is those two institutions that press us to forgive, to give chances. But do we listen? Will we ever look at criminals and see just humans, in the exact forms in which they came to us, in the forms in which they plead redemption.

I forgive because I know. Because once it's touched you, once you've become that child who is punished for her fathers crimes, your eyes are renewed to a new light. Life is no longer black and white because it can also be stark red, the color of blood, or blue, or brown, or multicolored. The color of the ocean, the color of hope, of death, of art and tragedy culminated into one. I forgive, but I was taught to. I was taught to by him, by his mistakes, and although I've let go of him, although I no longer think of him or miss him, I forgive him. Will you do the same for me?

Will we ever forgive them? Do they need us to?

So what shall I tell you? That I don't go to my classes because I cannot make them feel important? Or that I stay up all night rushing through my feelings so I'm too exhausted to hear my alarm clock the next morning? Because both would be true but neither will be said.

My mum isn't talking to me and I miss her. It seems like people play such stupid games to deem themselves some fake importance, to make life meaningful in some sense, to pretend that we're here for a reason and that there's standards we must measure up to. But there are no standards really, right? Just those that our parents or our teachers uphold us to. When did they forget how difficullt it is to be young? When everything can come crushing down from just one wrong feeling, when we still believe our hearts and the promises people make to us...

I don't want to die without any scars. Would you understand that? Or would you tell me that truly wise people learn from the mistakes of others and not their own? But wouldn't that be a life lived through someone else? Wouldn't that mean that I'd be like a guest at a drive-in cinema, watching the huge screen as people lived out there, as they loved and fell and lost their way, only to find a better one later?

I have a choice to make. Next week, I could either go there, to Peter Pan, or I could stay here and be the perfect example of a student that is required of me by your standards. Will you still love me if I choose the former?

I drown in irrelevance.

Have a safe flight Peter Pan. Second star to the right and straight on til morning.

You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it’s right, but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? I want to believe that.

(Source: Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist)

Everything is illuminated.

I look at the night sky and imagine your plane flying over my sky in just a few hours, touching the stars on its way.

Feel.

I haven't written in a while. To be honest, I just don't know where to start. I feel lost and bored and so out of place. I'm sitting in my flat alone as my flatmates are gone and I don't even know what country I'll be in tomorrow, and she asks me what it depends on and I honestly don't know. Does it depend on him or does it not, am I okay or am I not okay, can I love or I can I not. I just don't know anymore. I watched Mona Lisa Smile today and it's so beautiful and nice, a safe haven with wonderful friendships and cigarettes. I wish I could go there... but if I'm honest with myself, I doubt that would help. I doubt anything will. I just, I want to feel so much. I'm tired of being this empty shell, of not feeling, of not caring about anything. I want to feel, I want something big to happen and I want to feel something big about it. I want to feel feel feel feel feel.

Feel.

And now that I've type the word out this many times it looks strange as words often do. Feel... wha a strange word. Feel...

Feel...

Feel...

Feel feel feel... Is it actually a word? What a strange one.

Give me one wild word. Except for me the answer isn't in 'mosaic'. The answer is in love but I've become immune to it. Immune to love, that should be my new status update. Wouldn't that trigger an interesting discussion? Feel...

Too close to home.

“I don’t know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.”
“Yes, that never really changes.”

(Grey's anatomy)

I envy cats; they lead such peaceful lives.

Boredom.

The feeling I've been dealing with mostly lately is boredom. I feel bored, practically all the time. And I know there's the whole deal about 'only boring people get bored' and you have to create your own fun, blah blah, but it's difficult for me. Somedays I feel that I'm not in an enough of an intellectually stimulating environment. I don't feel my brain expanding or anything changing in me. So I hardly attend lectures because I find them dull and repetitive. And seminars, those are compulsory but even those I find hard to attend. I just sit there and think 'what the hell am I here for?'

I'm not sure if this has something to do with the change I've undergone lately: I've stopped believing in everything I have happily accepted before. Morality, ethics, a great purpose...

Most nights I find myself on the windowsill smoking my cigarettes and listening to music. And going out there and doing something just feels so purposeless. I mean it's not like I don't have things to do. I am buried in assignments and courseworks right now, and then there's people who I have been neglecting I admit, and the cinema, and everything else. But I just sit here instead. And I write too. I am writing my novel, which right now feels better than ever. I have come such a long way. When I started it I was a confused fourteen year old, and here I am now, practically an adult, and so much of it makes sense and I finally know where I'm going with it. It's been 5 years!

But still, boredom is like an illness you need to cure I guess. Over and over again.

Boredom, do you think it's a sickness?

Someday love will finally be enough

I'm no romantic. In fact, most days I don't even know what love is, or if I believe in it. I guess deep inside I don't because it's too easy. And I haven't really seen it work. But when I hear him laugh, its like the whole universe lights up. Because although we change and grow, our laughter stays the same. And here he is, fifteen years later, laughing just like he did when he was six, and I feel time evaporate and the world gain some purpose. I once wrote that there is no purpose in life, but some things matter enough to keep going. He matters enough for me to keep going. If only he was closer though... Maybe then my constant boredom of life would finally dissipate because I'd know what I was living for, I'd know that my days aren't empty, that there's a point to them, because I'm with him. Funny, I just said that I'm no romantic.

I found a new favorite place in the world. Sitting on my windowsill, lights off, music on, the night crawling in on me, the cigarette in my hands and words in my eyes. I dont know what I feel most the time. It's like I'm sad over something that's not there, like if when I was little someone stole something from me, and if only I could figure out what that something is. Then I could claim it back. But I don't know, and I have to live without it. I don't mind sadness really, it's inspiring. Happiness generates nothing in me. I don't know how to define it even. Maybe this still sadness is my happiness. Maybe.

It's sad because when I was child I believed in morals and values and I was convinced, I would fight to the death, for all these concepts that seemed so real. But now morality doesn't exist, there is no such thing. There is nothing absolute. There is just doubt and human ambition, and the desire to achieve something unachievable. I wish for certainty in a world of uncertainty. I wish for impossible things.