Love.

I remember when I was 11 years old and had the biggest crush on a boy in my class. 

I had these stars that was glowing in the dark once you turned out the lights in the room, and I wrote his name with those stars so that his name was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. He was literally written in the stars. I dreamt about being his girlfriend and I wrote about him every single night in my diary. Every look he gave me, every word he said to me, every move he made, be damn sure that it ended up in my diary that same night. I loved writing, and wanted to write an entire book by hand that I would staple together and send to someone.

Growing up, that boy in the diary was just a memory, but other boys came along. Up until I was 15, I wrote about the guys I "dated and thought I was in love with in my diary. (not just that obviously but a lot had to do with the boys in my life). I remember the day I stopped writing though, and it was when I had my first boyfriend Daniel and something really tragic happened that made me stop writing, and I started stocking up feelings inside instead. 

I wonder what kind of impact that had on me. I gave up the one thing I could do to release feelings. 

Up until this day, I have tons of feelings inside that I don't believe I've had the chance to vent. 

I am incredibly complex, and I have such a deep connection to myself that I scares the shit out of me sometimes. People in general can't possibly understand me and that makes me feel like I'm all alone. 

This is what I believed happened since I stopped writing about my feelings. I became one with myself and the thoughts and feelings I've experienced. Writing, even though it's in a diary that's mine, makes me feel like it's leaving my body.

This blog helps me a lot, and I always turn to this page when I need to vent. 

And this is when I release something that's been haunting me for 2 years and that still upset me when I think about it:

A person I trusted, someone who looked at me with eyes filled with desire, someone I could talk to about anything, who understood everything I said even though it would have sounded like complete madness to anyone else, a man who had eyes I seriously could stare in to for hours without stopping, who told me that my mind was the most beautiful thing, a man who was 10 years older than I was, a man who couldn't take his eyes off me, a man who made me feel sick, literally, out of butterflies. 

This man who was in a position that was no where near appropriate to approach me did it anyway. And he was in a longterm relationship with a woman since many years back, but waited 6 months until he told me. 

When that happened, I started writing poems. 

The anger and the hate that came out in those poems still gives me the chills. But it's a great example of how writing is a crucial part of my life, and that I need it like I need food, water and sleep to survive. 

So, this is where I make a promise to myself. I will have finished my book by June 1st 2017.

Or nah, make that published.

I have had the dream of being a writer since I was lying in bed as an 11 year old, staring at the glowing plastic stars that spelled Johan.