not my childhood

Now, I hadn’t planned to drabble this but it has been on my mind for hours nooooow!! It’s the start of Spring and lambs are allowed to skip around their excited hearts in the grass and there’s the small rows of ducks following in their mothers trail!!

Now guys, can you believe how Isak and Even took a walk today? Their hands joined together like super glue, spring-inspired lips and swimming stomachaches dancing in railroads all the way to their knees. They stop once a while, watch the lambs play tag with each other between their mothers legs. They hug and for the first time they hug outside and can actually feel it. Their arms so so close to eachother because the jackets are thinner and their hearts are that tad bit thicker.

But, it’s pink visioned on emerald green when Even looks up and sees Isak cross legged on the ground next to the lake. His jacket all falling down his shoulders but he doesn’t really bring himself to care. He looks so, vividly pastel around the new forming apple blossoms and Even’s heart blooms into the brightest fushia around his ribs. 

Because Isak is sitting there, jacket forgotten and light pants going green stained too, with the tiniest of yellow black ducks on his lap. Hes smiling that little bit, the way that breaks a scream to a tiny whisper, down and it just yaps happily at Isak’s fingers. Even hears him laugh ‘auwch’, like the way he does when he kisses him too hard or teases fingers around his bones, when it bites a little bit. 

And, god damn, Even wishes his eyes were a camera. Because if he could, he’d forever want to remember how the one that’s his started his favourite season with a chorus of birds chirping and all, without Even even needing to taste a bit of sticky sweet lemonade against his lips. 

Maybe

Maybe it’s my past
Maybe
it’s being touched by trespassers of my consent
it’s being eaten alive
by someone’s eyes-
someone 5 times my size.
Maybe
it’s being left behind
in strangers’ houses 
crying my eyes out at night
(while you’re out having a good time)
just being a mere responsibility
thrown around
from hand to hand,
from house to house.
My tears meant nothing
My screams 
were childish
That heaving in my chest
was just me being
dramatic.
Maybe
That’s why I’m so fucked up
Much less than I ought to be
but still enough
to never stop craving attention
to never stop craving affection
no matter how much I already have.
Maybe
that’s why swallow my words
and suck up my tears
because my problems aren’t big enough
because I need to be tough.
I don’t want to be dramatic
because “I’m a big girl”…
I know my past does not define my future,
but maybe
it explains the state I’m in.

-iri.i ©

March 24 2017

My uncle (who’s in his 70s) was here with his dog and he knows I have dogs and I like dogs too, so he showed me a lot of pictures and videos of his dog on his new smartphone (he has always had an old Nokia). Talked about how he goes to Ikea only to buy plushies for her, he takes her to a pet store a couple of times a month to bathe her and lets her pick out new toys and treats, takes her to dog play dates every week, etc etc

He’s the sweetest honestly 😭