Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hoursjust wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got throughand the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desktick tick tickme not making a soundand some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely waysbut you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fireand I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me–little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again. And there will always be a new day.Charlotte Eriksson
About This Quote
One day, I was walking home from college with a friend. She walked past a McDonalds that was closed, and through a gap in the fence we saw a man with a knife. He was standing over a woman on the ground, his hands covered in blood. He looked up and saw us staring back at him, and he said 'Come here! Come here!' Then he slit the woman's throat. We ran away as fast as we could.
We didn't go back for hours. When we finally did, there was no body to be seen, just blood on the pavement and bits of skin scattered around. The man was nowhere. In our city, it happens every week or so that somebody slits somebody else's throat.
Men and women and children and babies and old people and dogs and cats and fish and birds and everything else. It's like they're sick or something, like they've got some kind of disease that makes them want to kill people for no reason at all. I think we should make it part of our school curriculum: 'How To Spot A Potential Serial Killer'.
We learn how to spot them as babies by giving them toys that will kill you if they aren't thrown away immediately; 'How To Spot A Potential Serial Killer': how to spot one as an adult by watching out for those who watch out for those who watch out for those who watch out for those… You get the picture. It drives me crazy. I want to do something about it but I don't know what to do – I can't fight against everybody – so I'm going to write this letter instead. Maybe something will happen – maybe somebody reads this – maybe somebody does something about it – maybe somebody finds him – maybe he'll be caught – maybe he'll be stopped – maybe he won't be stopped – maybe the police will catch him – maybe they won't catch him – maybe they'll catch his friends instead -maybe they won't catch his friends -maybe they'll just let him go free anyway -maybe he won't hurt anyone else anyway -maybe he can just look after himself -maybe he doesn't have to hurt anybody ever again -maybe when I wake up tomorrow morning my world will be different -Maybe it's just me who thinks this is wrong -Maybe when you read this you'll feel someone must have failed in their duty -Maybe when you read this you'll find it hard to believe in God any more -Maybe when you read this
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More Quotes By Charlotte Eriksson
- Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I'll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.
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