It’s been months and maybe even a year since I last wrote. Almost put my email address in the username box for the login. Apparently it has been, according to WordPress, 4 years since I registered on this webpage. 4 years. Wow. Almost as long as the time since my previous post.


Earlier this evening, I was sitting in the living room of my dad and stepmother. I was about to make a reference to my age (regarding some examples in a small discussion), and as I opened my mouth to complete the half finished sentence I was speaking, I stopped.

“Am I 21 or 20?”

I drew a blank. I honestly did not have the answer. I looked at my dad, and received a confused facial expression on pause. He too was unsure.

But as soon as we covered that I was in fact born in 1993, he instantly told me I was 21. Later, after my dads wife had gone to bed, and after an episode of Vikings – which is a really cool tv show, I brought it up again.

“I will definitely become senile at an early age if I don’t do something about my brain soon”, I told him. He asked me why, and I referred to the conversation earlier. “No, don’t worry about that. I forget my age too, you know. When people ask me how old I am, I want to say 51. But then I remember I was born in 51, and after thinking about it, to my own shock, I realize that I am 53.”

I suppose I should have had a comeback, something like “yeah, but you’re old”..

But my dad isn’t old, and I was tired.

So why is it that I don’t have this information printed in my memory? Howcome I can’t say it automatically, the minute somebody fires the question; BAM! 21!


Perhaps it’s not as crucial as I’m trying to make it. Maybe it’s just that I don’t care so much about my age. But I do have a bad memory, for certain things. Such as dates (birthdays, important historical happenings etc), names, duties, time…..

Howcome I can remember things of no importance so clearly, the small things that should go unnoticed, the things that no one cares about?

Maybe it’s because all I care about in the great fields and mountains are the tiny grey stones with different shapes that could assimilate something familiar and entirely different than a stone.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been absent, away, in a floating state of mind drifting away from my surroundings and into nothingness. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy and indifferent to everyone and every thing.

As I finished that sentence, I realized that I ask a lot of questions in my writing. Words such as; Perhaps, maybe, why, how come, is it because…..

So pointless. I know that you, random or not random person who reads what I write, won’t answer my questions. It might be because I always focus on finding my own answers, and usually plant some various conclusions as to what the answers might be at the end of the speculations. Maybe it’s because you don’t care about my questions, or are too uncertain yourself about the issue at hand.

Or, it could be, simply, that the answer that you do have is not the right answer for me.

I would prefer not to post this, but I have to. If I don’t, I fear that I might never get started on the publishing of posts again. So….



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Suffering people

Disgusting. This world and it’s superior race.

Offensive. This humanity and it’s media front.

We float in a world of varieties. Varieties of red, green and blue.
I’ve heard you speak with anger, and I’ve heard you hum sweet tunes.

They’re actors, that’s what they are, playing their parts in the play.

I want to break away, escape, here the tears I cry are in vein.

Exploding desires, interrupted by tantrums, you will break me if I stay.
Surely, yes positively, we will drive one another insane.

Disturbing. A whole life filled with noise. Buzzing, unclearly yelling,
about what has become.

All I want is peace.


My mind is so frustrated. I’m surrounded by what I can’t understand.

Angry people, hateful people, manipulative actors of life.
I know you suffer even more than I
Suffering people, suffer until they die.

And I don’t understand why.

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Problem about relationships; usually one person will be on top, and the other one at bottom (not referring to sexual encounters). Because people are about control, and sometimes they fight about control without even noticing. Tragic, is it not, when we try to break down the person we love. And when they respond to this behaviour, we look for reasons as to why it’s all their fault. And whatever the outcome is, whether or not we’ve lost, we can fall out of love, because regardless; the control has been moved, and this might change the way we look at each other. Because this might change the way we look at ourselves.

If it is possible not to fight for control, will I become the doormat, or could it be that we could be respectful and loving as well as peaceful as a team? How can we even find the answer to this? Always with the arguments, the distance, the lack of understanding..

I know that I can love too much, if there’s even such a thing, and I know that I can stop myself from feeling all together. Now THAT’S control. Not being ruled by emotions, not being pushed around by confusion made out by these feelings.. But then again, what’s the point of control when you’re missing out on the essentials of life? Feeling is the magic of life. Feelings makes out the colors, the ecstasy, the sorrow. Feelings make things interesting, and suffering a heartbreak – that is the most interesting of all. Because you feel the hole in your chest that the emotion of love left you with, you know how powerful it can be, and it’s beautiful.

I don’t mean to come off as a whiny bitch, but that’s the thing about philosophy and poetry, sometimes I can’t help myself but combining the two. Sorry.

But I have wondered about myself, what is it that brings me back and forth on being certain? I know that I often feel sure about myself and my relationships, but I’ve noticed that I often lose courage, that I often find doubt, regarding myself and the people around me. Could it be that this battle for control is happening even when I’m not aware of it?

Could it be that when I let my guard down, they swing for the knockout punch (psychologically speaking), to win the superiority, to win the control, and then I find myself wondering about myself and my opponent, and perhaps this happens for the other one too, or maybe no one even thinks about it.

The point is, I think we all search for control. I think it might be natural for people to control other people. Maybe that’s why we want a dog, maybe that’s why we need a companion, so that we have someone to quarrel with, to win over, to be smarter than. I don’t fight for control on purpose. But I think I’ve noticed sometimes when people have tried it on me. And I think I’ve started to see my own behavior not only as the innocent kind, as I once thought it was, but also as it might be interpreted as – controlling. 

But if we don’t fight for control, will other people be the boss of us? Does it have to be a fight, or could we all just coexist?

I wonder about it, I wish for peace, but I also want respect. If I’m not respected, if I’m not considered as meaningful, than I’d rather not be considered at all. I’d rather be someone you once knew, than to be your obedient dog. As does it go the other way too, I’d rather leave you, than to be in control of you.

I type my conclusions, my sentences, my thoughts, but like I said, most of these fights happens in the shadows. So is there a way to back away from it all, when we can’t even see all the times it gets done, by ourselves, by our friends, by our mothers, by our lovers, when we’re blind from what lies underneath the covers.

If we think about it often, perhaps it could be done, if we had the patience, had the guts, to try and trust and love.

But for now I remain doubtful, for now I’m filled with flaws. I don’t even know all the things that people think I know.

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I wrote this song for my friend, as live took a new turn for him. And after I made it, I’ve barely left the piano at all.

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The world

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All I ever wanted, was to stay naive. All I ever wanted, was to stay naive.
I suppose I could’ve tried a little harder, I guess I could’ve done a better job. But the world opened my eyes with a scissor jack,
and forced me to recognize the beauty of pain,
and the beauty of all the things I had once looked upon as bad.

How am I to take part in the world, when all that is out there, is too fucking beautiful?

I find it easier to lock the doors, stay inside, and
watch the world from my window. It’s raining. I can hear the drops of water crashing towards the glass, tapping the ceiling. It’s my favorite kind of day today.
I probably wont stay inside all day today. But any other day, yes, I would probably sit in my room.

And another bus drives by on the road. And I see it from my window, and I know, another hour has passed.
I can’t explain why I don’t want to do anything anymore.
I can’t explain why the tiniest chore seems exhausting to me these days. I can’t explain why beauty makes me want to cry.

I can’t explain why I love everything now, more than ever before, but feel more down than I have in a long time.

I could make my theories. I could say that it’s because I don’t travel enough. I could say that it’s because I don’t get out enough.
I could say that it’s because I’m depressed, or don’t work out like I should.

But honestly, I think it’s just because I’ve learned to love endlessly, and the world is too amazing to look at with indifference now. And now that I’ve learned to see so many corners of each case, it’s hard to believe in justice.

The world is depressing. But that doesn’t make it any less beautiful.

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Modern mess

If I told you that I have a plan, it was probably a lie. If I’ve told you that I can do something, I probably haven’t thought about how much work it’s gonna take. Words have their way of encouraging and discouraging, and sometimes we get lost in words and forget their meaning. I know I might have a tendency to do this.

I don’t know if it’s the lack of contentment, or if it’s the fact that I need to get out. I’ve spoken about getting out a lot, how important it is for me to keep moving, never settle down.. Every time I settle, I break. In style, nevertheless, but still; things tend to fall apart.

It may be the child in me, so easily bored with it’s surroundings, that gives me this urge to always carry my life in a bag. Perhaps this is why I felt so happy when I spent some days in the woods without a home. I could go anywhere, sleep anywhere, and best of all, it was all mine. No one could enter my camp and start corrupting the peacefulness. No one knew where it was. No one knew where I was. I didn’t tell them.

All the footage I took was video, so I had to screenshot my videos to be able to show you. Anyways, here are some pictures from my time in the woods.


I had to climb trees to build this thing.



This is the bed I made. What I had time to make, that is.


I do miss being out there. But these days it’s too cold. I don’t know enough about survival to be able to survive to be honest. But I will. Perhaps next year I’ll make it my project to get better. Everything is so peaceful out there, away from the cars, the noise and the poisoned air. You get to think in a new way, you get to spend real time with yourself. I must say that it was probably the best experience I’ve ever had as to bad living conditions. And I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I did shower and wash my clothes. My cousin and his boyfriend lent me their shower and washing machine. And yes, to that second question. I could have if I wanted to, but this is something I wanted to do. When you first lose your place to live, why not try it out a little bit, like for real? Just to have the experience..?

I miss it. Perhaps next time I can do it more properly. I would definitely like to go further into the woods, and maybe even bring a kayak. But then I should probably bring someone with me. Like my dad or something. That would be amazing!

Right now I feel like I’m stumbling in my own feet. Everything is happening so fast, and everyone is going somewhere, following a plan, keeping their eyes on the price, which is a dead end job, and no one has time to just exists. Simply exist. No, there’s always a deadline, a chore, people expecting something.. Except that no one expects shit. They’re all too busy making their own ends meet, and doing what other people [don't] expect from them again..

I couldn’t live that life. I can not live that life. Perhaps I am too lazy, to make an effort. Or just hopeless, stupid, distant, naive, childish – you name it.. It doesn’t matter. I will find my path, I will find the life that I want for myself, and I will contribute to whatever country I find myself being a citizen of at that time. But until then, let me stumble. I know I will find it, when the time is right, so I will explore what attracts me, and I will fail a lot. I am going to fail so bad that my family will cover their ears when we talk, and I know this, because I am willing to put up a fight for what I believe in. How can I settle for something I don’t love? How can I be just okay with what I do with my life? I can’t. And in order to find success, one must also find failure. It’s true, I just decided this.


After all, how can one thing exist, if it doesn’t have it’s opposite?


04:50.. I should get some rest. It’s hard to wake up and do something with my days when I sleep so comfortably, and have a filled fridge downstairs. There’s heat, light-switches, hot water.. I honestly can not believe how comfortable this house of my moms is. I am grateful of course, because she worked so hard to make it possible for me to have this, but at the same time, I feel bad.

I don’t feel bad just because I have it so much better than most of the people in the world, but also because if I wasn’t born, it would have saved my family a lot of misery. I am the second most hopeless person in our family, according to certain modern standards, and I think I’ve made my parents cry a lot, as I’ve gone about the world making my own mistakes. Some of them more stupid than others.


But I believe that when you create life, whether you did so intentionally or not, it is to give an individual the body it needs to make it’s own decisions and experience life. Is that not what we’re all here to do?


Alright, I’m out. Good night.






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Regaining hope – the detour has come to an end


It’s been a while since my last update. I tried to write about dreams and expectations, as to oneself and others around, but I found that I wasn’t able to do so, as I couldn’t stop crying. I guess you can say that it got too personal. The picture above, is of me and my best girl, Asbjørg, as the sun finally rises above Himalaya in Nepal. Asbjørg is my soul-twin. Talking to her always makes my day, as her soul completes mine. No, we’re not romantically involved if that’s what you were thinking. We’re just… alike. We found each other at Seljord Folkhøgskole, were we were both attending a one-year-program as singer/songwriters.

Weirdly enough, we didn’t really talk that much the first couple of months. I feel like it all started with the cheese-doodles-incident. She sent me a snap-chat asking what I was doing. I sent her a picture of myself with a bunch of cheese doodles sticking out of my mouth. She asked if she could get some, because she was starving. It was in the middle of the night, so there were no meals being served. I said of course, and she came to my dorm wearing nothing but her bed-sheets. We ate, she gave me Snus, and we just jammed for hours. Yeah, I’d say this is where it all started.

Asbjørg is like the childhood bestie that I never had. When we’re together, we talk about life, we talk about the meaning of life, and we try to make sense of our millions of thoughts around the subjects. All of my problems seem to wither in her presence, and vice versa.

We share the same dreams, and we share the same feelings and thoughts.


So what do I do when I don’t have this amazing person around me? I get lost into a study of which I never had plans about attending. I get lost in a program that delays everything I was going to do. I put my dreams on hold.

Luckily we have an incredible thing called the internet, and as I was talking to her on Skype, she asked me how I was.

And everything took off from there. I wasn’t good. I wasn’t great. I was living a lie. My decisions had caught up with me by then, and I was miserable. I had disappeared in other people’s words and meanings, and I had become inadequate and apathetic. Prioritizing other people’s values above my own, was a foolish thing to do, as it left me feeling like I was an insignificant sheep loosing it’s identity.

I found my way back, and I finally left the life that I so stupidly had started. After all, starting my studies had been an impulse decision of which I had made as a result of caving in to the interference that came from my own family. And my family isn’t me. It is a part of me, but it does not define me and the life I am living. At least it shouldn’t.

I will have adventure. I will reach for my dreams, I will try to succeed in my own way. I will live the life that I want for myself. So what if that doesn’t measure up to the expectations that my parents have? Perhaps I am choosing a difficult path, but who is anyone to say that it’s too difficult for me? Saying that something’s impossible before it’s been tried out, it’s ignorant and naive, right?

If we don’t try to achieve our dreams, what are we then? What’s the point of dreaming if you don’t do anything about it? I believe that if you ignore your heart’s desire, the thoughts that makes you smile, the daydreaming, it will eventually disappear, and that will leave anyone in despair. You should come first, as it is your life. Taking risks is a part of the adventure. Taking risks is a part of life.


I can’t wait to get started. I can’t wait to see everything that the world has to offer. And most of all, I can’t wait to do this with my best friend, Asbjørg.


I can’t wait to share our adventure with you. After all, happiness is best when shared.


So for now, stay awesome.
Follow your beliefs, follow your dreams
and above all; follow your heart.
It may not be the safest thing to do,
but in the end…
is anything ever really safe?



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