"Music is a safe kind of high."

 

The words are few for the many unspeakable heavy clouds of combating emotions in the whole of my existence. It rains drenching and washing me down the drain. It strikes sharp beams cutting my sky apart. It rumbles and jumbles my realities and fantasies that the moon is in my throat. It floods and drowns me to my seabed without my air, without my light. My feelings flight to numbness.

From this moment on, after these words end with the dot, my heavy clouds melt with my combating emotions at ceased. My warm sun is my head. I draw my arms out like wings crisp and new; bounds to the boundlessness of love, who loves me true and beyond. The dot is goodbye in most silently.

(Playlist: Fyrsta by Olafur Arnalds)