Uncategorized by floraamalie

Looking too closely



Writing is something i’ve always done. It’s something i’ve always had the need to do.
And it has always been the most important part of any healing process for me.
Be it death or breakups… or just the fucking burden of life in general; when i need to fix something within myself, make sense of the world, i talk to my friends, and then i write.
But the more i write, the more personal it gets, and the harder it gets for me to put it out there.
Out here.
I’ve already moved away from the “i am a blogger this is how my week was!” style that i started out writing in so many years ago.
Not on purpose, really, it’s just a difficult format to work with when you don’t blog every day.
So my shit has become more abstract, more pure feeling, and i still struggle with “how personal is too personal”, as i have ever since i started blogging.
And as the sensitive and anxious person that i am, i obviously worry about people judging me, not only for the content, but also the rather clumsy and naive style in which it is presented. 
And you know, typos.
“They’re just feelings” i tell myself. We all catch them occasionally, like the summer cold all my friends seem to be suffering from at the moment.
So usually, with that in mind, i’ll just close my eyes, hit publish, and hope for the best.
Hope that i won’t be judged too much, hope that the haters had better things to do than read my rants, and hope that maybe a few people will relate and feel less alone.*
And while i’m sure some might think it’s too much, or too dumb, i know a few people get it.
“Your transparency will be your foundation of truth to stand on”.
An instagram follower posted that comment on a picture with a really heavy caption, yet another thing i maybe shouldn’t have shared with the internet, but did anyway, and it stuck with me.
I think of that now, as i’m about to post what’s basically just a lot of random thoughts i was having the day after my birthday, slightly hungover, and crying on public transportation in Berlin, a city that may or may not be my home.
I think of that, and i realize that whatever the cost, i still want to share, be open, be myself.
In life, and on my blog.

From the iPhone journal:

Sometimes i wonder if too much bad shit went down here for me to ever really be happy in Berlin. 

I still love it here, and most days it even feels like home, but if i’m having one of those days, feeling fragile, feeling lost, just taking the damn train can be a painful experience. 
Seeing all those buildings, bars, stations. Places that are now forever bound to whatever event took place there. 
Like a song you listened to too much during a breakup, you’ll never be able to separate the two again. 
What if Berlin is that song? 

And those songs, those actual songs…
Have i talked about this before?
How rediscovering myself after the first big breakup lead to me being more or less unable to even listen to the music i used to listen to? How becoming someone who wouldn’t get hurt, included a sometimes radical change in musical tastes?
Is this a thing that happens to other people, or am i just unusually sensitive when it comes to music?
Anyway, sitting on the train just now, it’s like i’m conducting an experiment. 
I’m on my way to Friedrichshain, a neighborhood that’s particularly loaded with memories, and i’m listening to a playlist from a year back, almost feeling like the me of the past, and i’m reminded of why i stopped listening to those songs in the first place.
Short explanation: shit makes me cry in public!
Yeah.

As if i somehow planned it, i even look a bit like my former self today.
Cause your look changes too when something major goes down. Everything changes.
I’m wearing my busted old Korean sneakers, bought for 100 yen at a market in Tokyo years ago, and a patched up denim jacket. 
Not tough, no guard.
And it feels strange. 
I look like her. Malle. Amalie. Whatever her name is. Not Flora. 
Flora changed to survive and to grow and to not get hurt. 
Malle from Copenhagen. Amalie from Schöneberg. Flora from Neukölln. Flora the explorer.
Berlin may be a place of hurt and forced transformation and survival, but it’s also Floras city. 
The place where i finally found  myself, and finally learned to be alone.
A place with no safety net but myself and my chosen family.
A place where i learned to trust only my gut instincts and a few select people.
A place where happiness and purpose is sometimes so close i can almost taste it, but i can never quite reach it. 
I wonder if maybe the old me and the new me will somehow need to learn to reunite, coexist, before i will feel a sense of happiness… calmness, belonging. Whatever you wanna call it.
Maybe being vulnerable once in a while is something i’ll have to ease myself back into, in order to feel whole.

Back to reality, back on the train, i discreetly wipe away the tears that have been gathering behind my sunglasses, and i change the music on my phone back to something that makes me feel detached and strong.
Something that makes me feel like dancing and singing in public instead of crying, cause Flora doesn’t do that. 
And as i’m walking towards a coffee shop to meet up with friends, an always welcome distraction from an overactive mind filled with negative self talk, i’m thinking that for now, being slightly detached from my feelings, is the better way to live.


Ok, so that was the rant of the day!
Well, its was the rant of several days ago, really, but the rant of today will have to wait.
Actually, i feel a “”this is what i’ve been doing” post coming on soon, cause hey, i’ve had a birthday and i’ve had friends visiting, and i’ve been working on things.
So yeah, maybe a return to blogger basics is in order.
Or maybe i’ll just keep talking about my fucking feelings, who knows.

The pictures are from Berlin mostly, and a few from Vienna, i think.

*And i know some do, cause they occasionally send me emails that make me cry with gratitude, and even through i sometimes forget to reply to them, because i’m easily distracted and rarely on my computer, they fucking make life worth living.

6 thoughts on “Looking too closely”

  1. Same thing about music, happened to me too, the search for toughness against feelings and guess what ? Hiphop was the cure as well ! I don't know why hiphop never gets judged, probably the "badass" thing ! Heartbreaking to see you struggle, but I am 100% positive that you will come out strong and confident and balanced and one day meet a real guy with nothing to prove !

    Reply

  2. just random wanting to be special just cough it out and dont put too much salt in the soup

    Reply

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