#lovemillennium

EN EL NOMBRE DEL AMOR

There I am again. I have not posted any writings in the past months, therefore I am so terribly sorry for that. It does not mean that I have not been writing anything but I did not feel like sharing anything at the same time. 

Writing is my passion since I was little and still, I love expressing my love, thoughts and feelings in words. 

The dream of being a journalism is still somewhere in my heart and, of course, I want to keep writing. But I have noticed that as soon as I have problems myself, and I just want to talk about them, people do not listen to me as long as my problems do not relate to them. This makes me think that people will not read my writings as long as they have not experienced the same thing.

I have always been writing for myself and even if others did not read my writings, I have considered myself as a reader.

But everything that I have experienced this year (wow, and I thought 2015 was bad) makes me question who I am and who I want to be, also what I want to write. My goal is to put the whole love that I have into my writing. But experiencing so many bad things with so many bad people that have negative influences on you can turn your love into a cover filled with so much anger.

There are so many writings of mine that were written during this stage of life and posting those is definitely not on my list. Because this is not the person that I am or want to be. I am a person that wants to express love and only love. 

Time is something so precious and I now have time but I want to spend it with finding myself. The person that I am is a writer and a writer also writes even if nobody cares.

“The man with the beautiful smile 

makes my tears fade away for a while.

I love him for this and for that,

but sometimes his actions make me dead.

He seems to be staring into my soul,

giving me a smile and some toxic in a bowl.

He is the pure evil, his mother told me.

But there is so much more in him that I see.

He is god’s present made of good and bad,

and he is the reason for every tear I have shed.

He has the two sides face,

and the award winning brain that could win any race.

He is psychotic and sick,

I don’t know why he is the one I picked.

Maybe because he is the man with the beautiful smile

that makes my tears fade away for a while.” - @lovemillennium​

When you are sad, I tell you to write your feelings into words.

I know you can’t when you feel forced to. And, my dear, when you don’t feel like writing, don’t write. When it’s not the right time to write, don’t write. Don’t write. Don’t write. Don’t write. Only write when your heart tells you to and when your head feels like transforming thoughts into letters.

But sometimes you are just forced to write. Maybe because you don’t want to forget. Or maybe because you want to forget but need to write to get over something. I can tell you my one and only advice to write when not feeling like writing: write like it’s a letter to your lover.

Trust me, love, the words will build themselves.

“I guess the things about love are the colours that come within. When the leaves in spring were like his eyes and the branches reminded me of his hair, his whole presence fit with the pure beauty of nature. The woods became my favourite places. I started collecting blooms in all possible colours but I only kept the stems. They looked so simple in that crystal vase that was resting on our nightstand. But my love, he threw them away! After that he went to the corner of our bedroom, sat down and started crying. Oh, how I hated when his green eyes did not look all wild anymore. “You are a child!” I yelled. But then he said: “Why would you gift me anything to insult me?”, I wanted to protect myself but then it hit me: “Maybe you are the stem in this relationship and I am the bloom. You are nothing without me” and then he stopped crying.”

“It is almost weird to forget yesterday. I cannot remember what I have done yesterday, or what I have eaten but I have been crying the whole sunny afternoon hours till night. Sleeping has turned into something special since Christmas Eve due to its stupid rhythm. My days have turned into nights and the other way round. Naps are a daily thing. Though days, even weeks are dressed like rain clouds, it all makes sense to me – the lack of sleep, eating, even loving. I am a person filled with happiness but sad days. I love waking up at 4AM, waiting till the usual morning hours, just to take a look out of the window and watch the people taking a walk. It causes me to want to take the next plane, direction: somewhere. Travelling is my dream, almost bigger than my dream to go to university and study journalism or some language. I could also just go to the grocery store and grab some milk and salad, pay afterwards and go home. At least this would satisfy me much more than just sitting at home, waiting for a lover to join my life. The thought of going out and picking up some pink, yellow, or maybe red flowers sounds like a good idea to me since my lover would have to wear some “I-love-colours-and-I-show-it”-shirts instead of #AllBlackEverything. Who needs natural stone paving on the streets when we could make the city more beautiful by stepping on flowers, hurting ‘em like our friends’ feelings? We could throw some flowers and tulips down the toilet, flush ‘em and see which stay. We could use flowers as our wall decoration instead of some stupid wall colour that does not cover the drawings on the wall that we have painted as children. I was one of the kids who used to draw huge hearts since that’s something all of us were born with. My mattress has always been patterned with hearts, yeah, also some flowers, and stick figures with green eyes. But the green eyes were not as green as the neighbours’ houses that I could have seen from the rooftop. Houses with other colours than green caused me to think like some rebel: “I could go there and paint the house with some stick figures, too. I am a second Harald Oskar Nägeli”. The only thing that has stopped me from this was the daily TV show in the morning that has been showing the newest music videos by artists that have not even written their lyrics on their own. I have always asked myself if a TV screen could get all foggy like my mirror in the bathroom after some hot shower (my bathroom was like a Finnish sauna, by the way). Who would even want to stop a mirror from fogging up when it could look amazing with some flowers fixed with plasters? At least I could draw some flowers and stick figures on my parents’ car windows after a cold rainy day. Hopefully my next birthday present includes some flowers. I love flowers just like pink, yellow or maybe red shirts.”

- N. - a book that I will probably never write.