I am sitting alone. The fire is lit in the fireplace, and outside the wind is harshly blowing. Outside it is stormy, but inside it is cozy and warm. And silent. Peaceful. Yes, at last, some pace. But with the pace comes all the thoughts and with the thought the sadness. It comes crawling into your mind, slowly and without a warning. And when they have entered your mind, they stay for quite some time. Maybe they are growing, hopefully not. The pain follows the thought, then the grief, and the loss. The feeling of hopelessness, and the feeling that "I am not enough." Not for him, not for anyone. And then you wish it wasn't silent, but loud and noisy. Cause then the thoughts keep their distance. However, now it is too late, now they have already entered. And I know they won't be leaving anytime soon.
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Stories to tell
PoetryA collection of my short stories and poems. Some is in English and some is in Norwegian.
