It was all easy and light

I haven't written in a long time, mostly because I haven't felt that I've had secrets worth keeping.

I can't even remember what I've been pouring here before and I don't feel like re-reading anything.

For a while it's all been light and breezy. Two months of blissful happiness in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, far from everything I hated about home. I owned 55 square meters of high ceilings and white walls, waiting to be filled with people and kisses. And that's what happened.

Now it hurts to think about it.

It hurts to think about someone back in Copenhagen who calls me skinny love and whose tattoos I love to hate. It hurts to remember how happy I was. It hurts to remember where I used to go running in the mornings. It hurts to think about the neighborhoods I love to death, it hurts to think about everything.

I'm confused.

I'm supposed to go to London in two months, while one of the only places I've ever truly been happy is Copenhagen.

Helsinki is cold, empty and dark. It feels useless.

Completely and utterly useless.