The kamikaze pilot

Birds throw themselve against office windwows.

The schizophrenic egoist

I felt like I was going out of my mind. My head was never quiet. Quiet is an in-between point, implying a balance between noise and silence, between the strange blackouts I began to have — pure silence, not sleeplike but deathlike — and the hellish shrieking jumble of my own thoughts and the voices of the world. And the sharp hiss of one voice that started out softly, as though below layers of moss, or flesh, and gradually became so loud it drowned out everything else:

"So this was "forever"?"

The lightness

You shouldn´t think what you´re feeling.

The mouth painted upside down

I am not sad. She would repeat to herself over and over. I am not sad. As if she might one day convince herself. Or fool herself. Or convince others - The only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. Because her life had unlimited potential for happiness, in so far as it was an empty white room. She would fall asleep with her heart at the foot of her bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of her at all. And each morning she would wake with it again in the cupboard of her rip cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon she was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.

The vintage eyes

I stare right through things like I stare into a world that was permanently in the distance and at the same time more immediate than the present.

The cabinet

Before I built the wall, I should have asked myself what I was walling in or walling out.

I turn seventeen tonight and all I know is that a box has six sides. Inside and Outside. Hey, how do you get what´s inside out?

The acceptance speech

Some people say this wasn´t forever. I've met other people. Thank you.

The day I fell in love with Monmartre

J’ai essayé tellement dur de te montrer tout que je suis: une tranquillité, insomniaque désespéré et jeune. Un romantique indécis qui sent trop pour qu’un coeur minuscule. Quelques jours je me sens comme je vais éclater. Vos excuses font écho les murs infestés par spiderweb de mon esprit. Les gens sont beaux, mais je ne sais rien au sujet de la façon tenir un rapport régulier avec eux. Je ne veux plus dormir. Monsieur, votre yeux sont couleur de café.

The more I try the less I know

I have this crazy dream where you take my camera and I ask you not to fly to Barcelona and you say "cheese!".

The reign over me

When people want to house-train a kitten they push the cat´s head right into her own shit. I am not your fucking pet.

The organic piece of shit

I thought the bass would break right through my rips. "all be gray but your picture on my wall reminds me that it's not so bad. It is not so bad."

The blackbox

The only thing I know about you is, you’re reading this. I don’t know whether you’re happy or not; I don’t know whether you hate me or not. I sort of hope you still can remember me as someone you once loved and I hope you are sad. If you had already forgotten and if you were happy, I can imagine that you’ll maybe smile to yourself when you hear me going, you broke my heart. You’ll remember someone who broke your heart, and you’ll think to yourself, oh, yes, I can remember how that feels. But you can’t. Oh, you might remember feeling sort of pleasantly sad. You might remember listening to music and eating chocolates in your room, or walking along the embankment on your own, wrapped up in a winter coat and feeling lonely and brave. But can you remember how with every mouthful of food it felt like you were biting your own stomach? Can you remember the taste of red wine as it came back up and into the toilet bowl? Can you remember dreaming every night that you were still together, that he was talking to you gently and touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again? Can you remember carving his initials in your arm with a kitchen knife? Can you remember standing too close to the edge of an underground platform? No? Well, you see this is my drama. There was a time when I was healthy and glad. There was.

I am not scared of forgetting about us. It´s just that you won´t be the one to remind me. We once were made of dreams. Look what dreams made us to.

The castle

You are the only thing I am not afraid of putting all my trust in. Thank you.

The reflection in your eyes

I knew in the moment we saw the sky our thoughts were just the same again. Like in a crowded place when there's a sudden noise and everyone looks and for a split second we've all shared thoughts. I've thought yours and you've thought mine and the line between whose thoughts they are becomes unimportant. Sharing those little thoughts is a little like sharing the same body. And a little of that is like sharing the same consciousness and a little of that is the same soul. There should be a name for that.

All the same, you and me all the same, "In my heart is where she will always be" So different, your and my future so goddamn different.