You are the war on me I'd wage.

I was looking for chaos and you came by,
like the soft rain on strange mud
No clamour, no clinging, no thud thud thud.

Dedicated to Ashburn, Virginia

Every once in a while, I come back to my blog and read some old posts. Correct some grammar, delete some embarrassing things that I may have written out of passion, but never write anything new. You see, its not that I have nothing important to write about but infact, I have this...problem.

In my writing, I exaggerate and in doing so, convince myself that what I write about is how I truly feel. For example, this is what I scribbled in my scrapbook some days back:

"I want to write about your beard that looks like hemp and the gap between your teeth. The way you say Gootargoo and many other things that I think of, only when you leave. But I can't write about it because shit gets serious when I do. And I am here (in Sweden) only to have F.U.N."

When I read this back it brings me to an emotion that is larger than I actually feel.

Anyway, this post is for someone, I have NO idea who, but someone from Ashburn, Virginia who checks my blog even though there is absolutely nothing new on it to read. I hope you read some old posts when I still used to write. I hope it brings to you an emotion which is larger than what you actually feel.

To me, that is the biggest flaw and also the biggest beauty of writing.
Love from Sweden,
The Elastic Chaddi Chronicles