Sometimes I find myself overwhelmed with fear. And not the small kind that tickles your stomach a bit and feels fine, but the kind that takes you in a stranglehold and doesn't let go no matter how hard you kick and bite back.
The most beautiful word for this kind of feeling is a Swedish word. It's almost beautiful enough to make it all seem small and pointless and a bit sweet, too. But even livrädd isn't enough to make tonight's worries small and sweet, it doesn't sweep these feelings away when you say it out loud or write it down.
I try not to worry about anything. The days go by in a gentle fashion. I work from nine to five and sometimes get to meet amazing people with true stories. Sometimes I suffer from older gentlemen in trench coats, who are unwillingly scary when they come closer only to wink and quickly walk away. Sometimes I get headaches, sometimes I'm genuinely very very happy. Sometimes I find myself thinking about nights in Nice. Most of the time I shake the thoughts away as quick as they come.
What I truly am livsrädd for is the time to come. In a couple of months' time I am supposed to really board that plane - and currently my plans only involve myself and the backpack that has seen beaches and cities and everything of importance. I'm not afraid to say it out loud: I'm very afraid of leaving alone, but I'll have to do it.
Du behöver någonting större. I don't know if this is it, but it probably won't kill to try.
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