I know I'm only 21 and what do I know about life and love and what really matters? But my promise to myself while writing this book was to tell my story, no one else's. To write the story of my life so that I can remember it in the way I want to remember it. To write this down in an attempt to make it better, to make my story come alive.
Charlotte ErikssonWhy I write music? Because it hurts not to.
Charlotte ErikssonStichwörter: art music writing inspiration motivation writer create musician songwriting songwriter
It could be yesterday
when I was less in love
I think
For I didn’t see you in the mirror
behind me
while getting dressed.
The way your hands couldn’t stay away
and our bodies always found their ways back to each other
as if they were meant to be together
Close.
But then it was today and I saw you
again
in the mirror
behind me while getting dressed
So I go to sleep tonight
alone
without actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake up
and realise it was just a dream
You’re actually gone.
Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow
hoping that I will be less in love
again
Like yesterday
But not today.
I was never really well with things at all.
Stichwörter: past love poetry youth moving-on alone sad memories prose tomorrow heartbreak young mirror yesterday left charlotte-eriksson the-glass-child
Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I'll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.
Charlotte ErikssonStichwörter: love wander morning happy coffee london simple-living
So they gave me love in form of poison and tiny little pills, programming my emotions, teaching me how to feel. To act correct and talk correct and answer without knowing the question, because that, my dear, is how you get love. Yes that, dear youth, is how you'll be loved. I tried to medicate my own fucked up little mind with chemicals and adrenaline, tasting sweeter every night, shaking louder every time. Sitting wide awake in bed until the world disappears, writing poetry to concentrate on something real while waiting for the love to arrive.
I've been looking for it night after night, waiting patiently for it to show up, maybe somewhere in between the state of awake and asleep, alive and not so alive, sober and not so sober.
(I lost track of the difference somewhere in between.)
Stichwörter: love solitude youth night drunk finding-yourself pills sober lucid-dreaming
There are very few friends that will lie down with you on empty streets in the middle of the night, without a word. No questions, no asking why, just quietly lay there with you, observing the stars, until you're ready to get back up on your feet again and walk the last bit home, softly holding your hand as a quiet way of saying “I'm here”.
It was a beautiful night.
Stichwörter: friendship love youth stars free night quiet prose thoughts alive empty-streets
My mind is killing me”
— The Glass Child, Stuck In My Mind
Stichwörter: music lyrics sylvia-plath lyrics-of-the-heart my-mind stuck-in-my-mind
I’ve been trying to stay real
and true and proud of who I am,
all those ideals of how to look
I’ve been trying not to care.
But I’m still holding my breath,
I ‘m still watching every step.
I’m still tip-toeing away,
when I’m getting to ashamed of myself.
I don’t want to be your letdown,
I’m scared like hell I’m not enough.
I don’t wanna be
your failure anymore.
— The Glass Child, Letdown
Stichwörter: music inspiration lyrics motivation afraid pressure angry scared not-enough charlotte-eriksson letdown the-glass-child
I just want to be someone, to mean something to anyone…
Charlotte ErikssonStichwörter: music lost youth lyrics motivation finding-yourself pressure confused the-great-perhaps not-enough charlotte-eriksson the-glass-child empty-roads-broken-bottles
But I was young
and didn’t know better
and someone should have told me to capture every second
every kiss
Stichwörter: love poetry time kiss youth moving-on alone sad prose heartbreak young-love love-story the-great-perhaps charlotte-eriksson the-glass-child empty-roads-broken-bottles in-search-for-the-great-perhaps
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