Lingering in grey december

I have come home empty and drained. I am tired of living, out of time, in the basement of my parents suburban villa. While the comfort of my mothers food was a welcoming sensation at first, I have grown bitter and restless. I am not able to be myself, I can not restore myself without solitude, I can not work on my voice without solitude. And I can not find a solitary moment in this house, with constant interuptions every afternoon, and disorder every morning. I long for my own bed, the sound of my city and the tastes and smells of my own cooking. Knowing that I will move back home tomorrow, today still feels unfathomably infinite and my sanity so finite. In the car on the way home, we make our way through the massive concrete trench. I dont say a word all the way home. I feel defeated. As we drive, I just stare at skies outside, finding sweet redemption in the sheer beauty of the scandinavian winter's twilight. I am now curled up beneath my duvet, hoping for an interesting conversation to pop up somewhere on the internet, while I put my melancholy to text. Even though I feel pointless and indifferent. I am reminded by that very same emotion, to never give up even though everything will crumble and wash away in the end. It is important to savor the moment. To know that it meant something. To have loved and felt sorrow, to have lost and surrendered. Every piece of life is important, and every moment precious, life is the one thing that requires expenditures without a source of income and no refunds given. We all pay, the same price, at the same rate, until we run out, and life ends. There is no way to know how much you get to spend from life's beginning until its end. So making every payment worth its price is alpha and omega. In life, the currency is time. Make the most of it.

I think I will make my self a cup of tea, take care of yourselves <3

Kira