I’ve always wanted to write, but I never thought I was good enough. I still don’t, and it is a fact, not an opinion. I’m not talented enough to create something exceptional, and I’m not hard-working enough to train myself to be better, but I can write ‘okay’ texts. I’ve always been good at summing up my thoughts, and I can tell anyone to go and fuck themselves in written text, and they will agree with me.
But I wish I was better. I wish my life would be about always writing the next chapter. I wish I could find the proper words to write about smoking teenage girls in the park, about foggy nights, about my fear and respect for the sea, about big, metal bridges, about men who don’t want to be in a serious relationship just now, about shared nakedness, about disease, about white and dirty sheets, about children who are stronger than any adult, about walking in a new city every day, about drinking beer with strangers, about decisions, about love, about friendship, about loneliness, about dying.
I would write down that teenage girls always imagine that they will be loved, and that they won’t be smoking when they’re thirty.
I would write down that fog scares me, and I cannot breathe when it invades the city.
I would write down how much I fear the big water, and how much I wish I wouldn’t.
I would write down that bridges are the most wonderful things architects could create, because they are made out of fear, fear of the water.
I would write down that men who don’t want to be in a serious relationship just now are not to be trusted, because they won’t give anything, but they will take everything.
I would write down that shared nakedness can make one feel safe, but it can also draw one back, and keep addicted.
I would write down how immensely weak and vulnerable disease can make us, and how bad it smells while it’s taming us quietly and gently.
I would write down that the difference between a white and a dirty sheet is a fracture, and that fracture should never be treated lightly.
I would write down that children are so underestimated it’s driving me crazy, as they are not tiny humans, but the strongest souls there are to found.
I would write down that walking in a new city and drinking beer with strangers are the most liberating things, the hope of starting over and doing it right will give you freedom.
I would write down that decisions are a pain in the ass, and they will never stop coming, and even though they can pile up, never take them in a rush, as they mean future.
I would write down that no one knows anything about love, because if we would, we would never treat it this badly.
I would write down that friendships are the most important, valuable, lasting relations a human can have, and it makes them sad that we only rank them second.
I would write down that no one should be alone, never-ever, not one person.
I would write down that I’m not so much afraid of death, as I’m afraid of the nothingness.
I would write all of this down, if I had the words, the words in the right order. Until then I’m left with the longing and the desire of doing so.