I’m so tired. I feel like I’m being pulled apart. All these things that I want to do. All these people that I want to meet. All the planning that I do. The last couple of days, weeks, I feel like I haven’t had time to breathe.
I’ve had people over for dinners and parties and couchsurfers and all this student council business.
I feel I would like for someone to take care of me for once.
I know I shouldn’t, though. Feel. I should ask. Let other people do. And I do have. People. Lina made me breakfast yesterday. Jessica told me on Saturday that I was weird and that it cracked her up and then she sent me a text that was too sweet to repeat.
On Saturday night, Lina and I took the couchsurfer out dancing, not really succeeding to give him a good taste of the Stockholm nightlife. The club turned out to be kind of off, but the last hours on the hip hop dance floor stuck. The base so deep it made the small hairs on my arms tingle. Almost as if someone was lightly, lightly touching. I noticed, and afterwards Lina confirmed that the men were circling us like sharks. I was there to dance, but that recognition. Rejection always feels less acute when there are other men around who show you they’re willing to take over.
Mostly sleep though. As a solution. And singing. I need this pressure to leave my body.
Katja Malmborg 