Karoline's Blog, Written Words

I need a scratch map of the countries I’ve kissed

I have a things for foreigners. It’s a thing. It’s a fact. Let’s not dwell on it and start calling each other names. I know I’m not the only one. I just really don’t see what’s so special or fun about being with someone from your own country. I mean, they look like you, grew up like yo and know the same cultural references and traditions as you.

Nah, not for me. I like a little action. A bit excitement. Someone who can surprise me and say stuff like: “No we don’t use Christmas trees for Christmas haha. We use this plant.” See, that would be fun! I could learn something new about the world and broaden my horizon.

I absolutely love talking about Denmark. Everybody who’s met me while I’m abroad would know this. And deep down I think people like to hear about our silly popstars and weird food fetishes. Maybe they don’t, but I love telling them about it anyway. And I get so fascinated to hear someone else talk with such passion about their home country. So why shouldn’t I find someone to tell me about it.

So what is it about these foreigners lips that draw me closer to them each and every time. Is it the accent? The language? The looks? Who knows.

If we’re being really honest, it might just be because they’re far away and I know it won’t last for long. That way I can’t get my heart broken… Just kidding. It will happen either way.  It might even be worse this way.
Side note: A positive thing is that you’ll never bump into him while drunk or on your way home from the gym, because he’s so far away. And isn’t that a great thing!

I know I’ll end up with someone from another country. It’s going to be difficult and stupid but I have a feeling that’s how it’ll be. And I can’t do anything about it.

 

 

 

Poetry, Written Words

I have given up on love

I have given up on love
on believing there will be someone there
at all those lonely night
I find myself wondering
if maybe I was fooling myself
this whole time

Maybe I should have quit long ago
in the forrest they wait
but not for me
for the next best thing
the perfect thing ready to do
whatever they’re told

I’m not like that
I don’t work that way
maybe that’s why I’ve given up
because every time I try
it all just seems to get thrown
straight into my face
all over again

I sit in silence and hear the world
outside my window
stare into nothing and
sing a little song
tomorrow is a new day
some people are not for you
we have to face it
but one day
one special day
you will face the one that is

 

Karoline's Blog, Written Words

1. august

Kender du det når man er blevet så såret at man gør alt for ikke at falde igen.

Man tør ikke smile sødt, klæde sig flot eller sige frække ting, for hvad hvis det kunne misforstås. Hvad hvis der var en, der så igennem det hele og ville have dig på trods af det. En der var ligeglad, om du ikke turde ryste med røven eller blinke frækt. En der forstod, hvorfor du gemte dig på dit værelse, mens de andre var ude og lege. Hvorfor det at starte virker umuligt, for så dukker det hele op igen. Alle minderne du har gravet ned, kommer frem og minder dig om, hvor dum du var. Ulykkelig og naiv. Intet kan skjule det mere. Vi gemmer os for at glemme, men husker mere end nogensinde.

Hvis vi ikke tør gå ud, går det aldrig væk. Hvis vi ikke åbner døren, er vi lukket inde for evigt. Jeg vil ud igen, men mangler en hånd. Jeg mangler en stemme, der siger det er okay. Siger han vil gribe mig, for han er ikke som dig. Og så må jeg blot stole på det. Lukke øjnene og lade verden ramme mig endnu en gang. Blink og tæl til tre.

 

Translation: 

Do you know that feeling, when you’re been hurt so much, that you’d do anything to prevent yourself from falling.

When you’re scared to give a sweet smile, dress nicely or say sassy things, for what if it could be misunderstood. What if there was someone, who say through everything and wanted you despite of it. Someone who didn’t care if you were scared to shake your ass or blink at strangers. Someone who understood why you were hiding in your room, while the rest were out playing. Why, starting, seems impossible, for then it will all come back to you. All the memories you’ve hidden, will come back and remind you, how stupid you were. Miserable and naive. Nothing can hide it anymore. We’re hiding to forget, but end up remembering it more than ever.

If we don’t dare to step outside, it will never go away. If we don’t open the door, we’re shut inside forever. I want to go out, but need a hand. I need a voice telling me it’s okay. Tells me he will catch me, for he is not like you. And I must simply trust him blindly. Close my eyes and let the world hit me once again. Blink and count to three.

Poetry, Written Words

Tinder crushes my soul

Skærmbillede 2017-07-20 kl. 14.56.00

Swipe, swipe, swipe. No thoughts entering my mind, no feelings involved. Cute dog, cute nose, ugly face. Cool view, nice tat, crazy eyes.

All these things run through my mind at the speed of lighting and before I know it, I’ve crushed more hearts than intended to in my entire life. Not caring about the person. Seeing only the picture. Seeing only an image of a human being, that might exist but most likely doesn’t. I don’t want to think of you as a person. I want to swipe. Right, left, left, right. It’s a game. It’s a competition. Who gets the most matches. Who likes these precicely choosen pictures and ironic text I have created for all the world to see. Sex, sex, sex. Looking for something serious. Left. Looking for someone to love my dog. Right. Looking for love. Left. U up for fun. Right.

Decisions without feelings. Brain not working. Impulses win. The tweeting feeling deep inside my body. This is wrong. This is not right. But it’s so fun. Boost. Boost. Confidence boost. “Hey what’s up girl”. Ignore. Left, left, left. What are you feeling on the other side of the screen? Loosing the game. Loosing at life. I should say yes to them all. Boost. Boost. Confidence boost. But it’s all a lie. All fake. Like all else. It’s not real. But then you meet. And suddenly it’s all very real. What did I say. No, I didn’t say that. Didn’t promise that. Go away, you are not real. You are not suppose to be here. Here in reality. You are fake. You don’t belong in the actual world.

I am winning. I am loosing. Who are you anyway. I don’t care about you or your siblings. Tell me something new. Surprise me.

Then I realised it. The judgement my mind puts on these people from one single photo. Bad in bed, boring, common, fuck-boy, mammas-boy, pretentious, just wants head, no good for me, too good for me, ugly, would talk about football, would talk about drugs, would introduce me to his mother, would introduce me to his dick…

But that’s not all I realised. I picture myself with them. Impossible. I picture them being actual human beings. Impossible. I picture them smiling and giving their mom a hug. No, no, no, you’re not real.

You don’t know these people. You don’t know a thing. It’s all a game. It’s all a lie. We’re all in on it, but what if we’re not. Where are the rules. I need to see them. I want to know. I don’t understand this game. Let me be. Let me join. I see nothing. I swipe. Right, right, right. Afraid to hurt. Afraid to care. No, no, no. Ignore the messages. I don’t want you. I want the boost. Give me the boost. It’s gone. Come back. No, no, no. It’s gone. So are you. So is this game we had. No more. Left.

Karoline's Blog, Written Words

7 april 2016

I want to fall in love. To give someone my eyes, theirs to cherish. I like the sensation of holding someones hands for the first time. To believe that there might be something there. Notice the way their hands feels in yours. If your stomach turns around or leaves you unsteady. How a simple thing as walking and talking is a mindgame and a thing to consider. How do I normally walk? Why do I always bump into him as if I’m drunk?

The thousand butterflies in my stomach are dying. I haven’t been able to give them what they need to embrace their purpose. I only give them false hopes and bad memories. They will soon fly or fade away. I need to find a new person to make them fly. Find a person who lets them feel happiness and love. Another person who doesn’t spend their time in their room thinking of the “what if’s” and “what not’s”. Who cares. This is where you are and how you chose to live. It can be changed as easily as a page can be ripped out of a book. Never to be seen or forgotten.

I want to take a leap of faith. Try something new that’s never been done. At least not for me. Who decided that love was forever and why haven’t we rewritten those words yet. If the plan is to wait till the time is right, then I sure hope you have the patience. The patience to feel a body close to yours, feel a different kind of purpose in life, a different kind of need and love, to plan for two not for one and allow yourself to be hurt.
To feel, what you must feel to know it’s real. That this is real life and not some made up fantasy world. That things can change, not always for the better but they just might. Because who knows which street you’ll turn down or which bus you’ll go on. You have closed yourself for any new opportunities and like a magnet, if you are not showing the right pole, you will never attract a new magnet, but just keep pushing them away. You don’t understand why, but just try to turn things around and you will be amazed at what is waiting for you.

Keep your head up, look approachable, smile and look them in the eyes and tell them exactly what you want. Not what you need, but what you want. That you want them. Want them by your side tonight, tomorrow and forever…