Monday, January 11

ode to a sailor

fredrik, i never wanted flowers. i wanted a best friend with whom i could do the silliest things. run in the street going nowhere, tell secrets, imagine scenarios and take photographs, go to the zoo to see the penguins. i don't want to be in that love everybody talks about, in that love you talked about. i want this.
it was very difficult to let the idea of you go (i really really thought i was going to wait for you at the station and that you were going to take me ice skating), but it’s happening now. i can breathe!
i'm sorry for saying goodbye the way we did, you know, the last image i have of us in my head is of you being all cosy with a girl who isn't me and me sitting on the opposite sofa with your best fri
end whispering in my ear that he wanted to fuck me.