Elated: The evening had been perfect. The movie was great, the dinner had been delicious and we were able to keep the conversation going and interesting and funny. We had held handspring the movie and we both found each other catching glimpses of each other. As I walked her home the late summer evening seemed to come out from a dream. It had rained earlier in the day, so the air was clean and it smelled of grass, flowers and “summer”. It was late, but not yet dark. We walked holding hands and flirting and asking each other questions about what owe liked about certain parts of the movie. As I bid her a good evening outside her door she leaned in and gave me a soft and warm kiss before telling me “thanks for a good time” with a smile and a slight wink of her eye.
Uncomfortable: As I entered the party I felt eyes to start gaze towards me. I felt like a stray that had been invited as a courtesy. I wasn’t dressed the part, I was both taller and bigger than other there and I felt I stood out as a sore thumb. Everything about me stood out. My long frizzy hair, my beard, my rings and jewellery, my boots. I had alway liked to be the odd one out before, but this time I realised I wasn’t looked at as just just that. I felt like a proper freak, and that had been the reason to why I had been invited. “Come to my party and behold the giant weirdo freak”…
Furious: After I had finally gotten the car back under control and stopped by the side of the road, I exploded in rage. It was rage beyond rage. I had people in the car, and this fucking bastard idiot made such a dangerous overtaking, around a bend, in the dark on an icy road. I had to slow down and drive my car on the road shoulder to avoid a massive collision, because there was a huge lorry coming in the other direction. “Fucking idiot,” was all I could say fuming.
Cute: As we entered the room a cacophony of tiny “meow meow meow” met us. The cat mother was laying in the box, but the six little 5 weeks old kittens were running around, hustling and bustling around and trying to “win the fight” against their siblings. Six small kittens in various colours and size and level of fluffy. I could’ve died right then and there and died as the most happy person in the world. “Cause of death: Cuteness overload”.
Ashamed: “Larsen!” His voice boomed across the classroom as an explosion. “Can you solve the equation for me, perhaps, or should I rather ask a kinder gardener? They seems to have more sense and at least a possibility to get the answer correct.” He looked at me with his normal malicious grin and laughed out loud with a booming “HA!” I felt the heat rise in my body and my face reddening and I just wanted to sink through the floor and die. No matter how he enjoyed tormenting me, he was right: I had not a snowballs change in hell to solve the rather simple equation. I could seethe answer quite easily, but to actually write it out and explain it. Not a chance. I just took my bag, stood up and walked out from the classroom. I didn’t return for over a month out of pure shame.
Boredom: Nothing of interest on tv, nothing of interest on any of the streaming services, nothing of interest on social medias. Absolutely nothing happening out on the town. No interesting movies at the cinema. Not even any interesting books in the bookshelf – even Lord of the Rings looks back at me and it just doesn’t start anything in me. “What to do, what to do,” is repeated in my head. The best ways to handle boredom is 1) alcohol or drugs, 2) sex or 3) just go to sleep. But nothing of it seems interesting to night. Perhaps go for a drive? “Hmm… Nah. I’m low on gas and money,” I remember. With a sigh, I turn my focus back to the TV and starts to roll Netflix again…
Guilt: My stomach turning into both a glowing white ball of led and a knot. It feels as if a hurricane out in the ocean was running amok in it. I start to shake, sweat and hyperventilate. The agony I’m feeling from what I have done is crippling. “How could I do this?” I keep asking. The question haunts me and keeps me awake together with the memory of what I did. How I did it and the worst thing: how you reacted when you realised what I had done.
Dishonesty: Im asked a simple question. I know how to answer or what to say. I know the truth perfectly well, but what comes out of my mouth is nothing what I had believed I would say. It’s not rally very far from the truth, but it is still a lie. A lie so close to the truth that it runs like a walking path alongside a road. Almost the same, very similar, but also nothing at all as the road. It rolls of my tongue easily and convincing and no one raises a question about what I said. They just nod their heads and continue on with the conversation.
Manipulated: Refusing to listen. Refusing to see. Refusing to speak unless it is to make sure you are wrong about what you believe or say. Lying, hiding, omitting and denying. Saying how it is wrong, how it never happened, how it happened “this way” and not “that way”. Remove evidence and proof of behaviour and actions. “I didn’t do that.” I didn’t say that.” “You are mistaken and wrong.”
Relieved: Letting out a long sigh as I realise everything went as desired. I had worked through night and day for the last week to have everything ready for the recording. I couldn’t say how many points I had soldered, how many meters of wire and how many different wires I used to make it all work. All I knew was that if one thing didn’t work out and there was no sound, I would have to start almost from scratch and search through everything to figure out what was wring. The recording would be put off fro another two weeks, the studio would lose a lot of money and reputation, and I would be chewed out and humiliated as a failure in front of them all – band and producers and technicians – and I would be lucky if I would ever work in the business ever again. But all of the thoughts evaporated as soon as the first signal came through.
