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Den 23. decemberden fortabte far.
Denne travle dag, går masse mennesker gennem de travle gade af København, for at køber de sidste julegaver til den dag, som vi alle kender som jule aften. Men for os skilsmisse børn er det, en af de dage vi fejre jule aften, med den anden side af familien. Her går en mand, med et sørgmodigt blik, kigger bare fortabte på de mange mennesker. Det er hans første jul, som kun ham og hans børn på denne skilsmisse juleaften. Det første gang han skal købe julegave til hans børn. Det havde også været en svær sag at finde en gave til konen, da han havde en.
Men til sit held ser han den velkendte legetøjs skilt, som han genkender fra da han var barn. Han håber, han kan finde noget til hans søn. Han kigger rundt på alle de farve strålende hylder, hvor der er alt fra dukker til babyrangler. Men han syntes dog ikke hans søn er til noget af det
Den 24. decembermoderne sne
Det er en kold vinter dag, en ganske speciel af slagsen, nemlig jule dag. Hvor to børn er på vej hjem til deres mor, for at fejre juleaften. De har nemlig lige været hjemme hos deres far af selv samme årsag. Julen er altid en travl dag, men dog er der ikke mange biler på den landevej denne dag. Pigen og dreng går lige så stille i venstre side, dog er dreng en smule foran. Pigen ser ud til at gå og tænker over et eller andet. Drengen kigger af og tilbage, for at se om hun stadig er med. Men i sidste ende syntes han, at det går en smule langsomt og spørge da:
”hvad er der? Hvorfor går du stille?”
”bror, det er bare, hvorfor sner det ikke?” spørger pigen en smule trist til mode, og holder hun sin iskolde hånd op som om der skulle falde et snefnug ned i dens tomme uddybning.
”syntes du ikke det er kold nok i forvejen?” siger han en smule surt, og går hen
Day 6. - to a strangerDay 6. – to a stranger
You could be the one next to me in the line in the bookstore, you be the person there just randomly walked by me on the street, you could be the one that I drew without think of it. You could be someone I haven’t met, or someone I only spoken a few words with. But something we might have in common is that, we don’t know each other, and we both have good and bad days. One stranger I remember and sometimes think of each time it rains, it was this rainy day, under the bus stops cover, I sat down besides and old lady. I think I said something about the weather, she said it is a sad weather newer days, can’t remember how we talked. But she said something about haven forgotten her umbrella. And I just brought one some days ago, but I didn’t think of myself at that moment, I gave her the umbrella, said you need it more than me. I can always cover under the next building or under book, keep it, we might meet again, and you can give it t
Day 5. - my dreamsDay 5. – to my dreams
To the dreams hope I can fill in, I really should have made this letter yesterday, but was sick and didn’t go to work, which made me feel differently about you. It made me feel that I couldn’t make it to you. That you somehow were far away from me, but today I went to school and am still sick, and now somehow sounding a bit like Hannah Montana. I actually think might reach you one day. If just work a lot, the news paper here, is going to post my drawing, they asked me if I wanted to work there, but first I wanted to finish my school, but I am thinking of writhing a piece for them later. Which I got the idea from walking home today, sometimes the ideas comes the weirdest places. But I don’t know how I feel about writhing it in Danish, but it wouldn’t fit in English. I’ll work to get to you, I know it a lot of work, and a lot of learning, a hell lot of colds in this weather. It is funny how once mood can change on day.
Day 4. - My siblingDay 4. – to my sibling
To my dear sister, you have my deepest respect, you are like an angel, you can’t do anything wrong. I have been jealous of you lots of times. But I know now, that everyone is different, and each of us have our own ways at getting though life. But I will always admire the way you work, and the way you look. I don’t see me as the ugly sister any more, because there aren’t ugly sisters. We are each different and pretty in our own ways. There a lot things to admire about you, I hope you will see them one day, because you really deserve it. I have felt a bit weird for not being with you on your birthday, but I glad that you liked the gift I made for you. I know I haven’t gifted you a lot, because I have been focused on my problems, and not how it affected you and mum. One thing I miss about you, more than anything else, is the way you always wanted to make me smile, and make me happy. I can hear from your voice on your phone, that yo
Day 3. - my parentsDay 3. – to my parents
To the once there created me, you are the reason that I live, you are the reasons to me keep fighting for to become better. I know you both are very supportive to me, and keep me, feeling loved. Even when I have bad periods of my life, you keep reminding me that I am loved, and that I always have a place, where I belong. I know even if you can’t tell me the truth, you would always say something that would make me feel okay, even if you don’t say it. I know if we are apart, that you always have me at heart, or a special part of your mind. I know you’re not together, but I actually think it is better this way. I am sure that you both one day, will find love again. I wouldn’t be against it, I had doubts about that, but I really think, it is important for you. I do have memories of you two together smiling and happy, but it is so far away in time. That is all I want to remember of you together. I remember the picture you gave
A white sheep in a herd of brownWho am I.
What am I.
I'm something of life,
one consisting of all elements.
A being of Akasha.
I am a sheep.
I follow the crowd,
I desire to follow the crowd.
To be unnoticed among the rest,
but is that true.
I am an individual, just as well.
I stick out like a blooming flower would
surrounded by a desert wasteland,
I could never fit in.
I know that isn't what I want.
But deep down maybe it is.
Or maybe it is,
to put it more bluntly,
what I need.
But I can't change who I am.
A white sheep in a herd of brown.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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