About sharktoothsweater

When it comes about writing about myself I guess there follows a long silence. What should I write about me? For me it feels like there’s not so much to say actually because I’m kind of empty. And I do not know if I really know who I am. I suppose I could tell you my shoesize, the color of my hair or my eyes, about my height but none of those things really matter do they? Nor does my age, my sex, my nationality, the place where I live. At least, they do not matter in my world. I hope they don’t matter in yours either. Because all of this, what comes out here, is the real me I guess. If you have questions, or just something to say, you can reach me at sharktoothsweater at gmail dot com

The trap.

There is not really much to say about my life, nothing much happens. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe not.

This life just doesn’t make sense. I keep going to a job that makes me unhappy, and that provides just the necessary to live, but no future perspective.

What’s the point of going to work every day, coming home, being wrecked that the only things you manage is to cook, clean a bit and hang on the couch?

I look in the mirror. I see someone who is fat. I am not really fat fat, but fat enough to not be thin. Sometimes I see myself, and all I can think is, how could I be this way? Why can’t I manage to keep myself in a better condition? Why am I so fat? Look at yourself, look, there you see someone who does not have a good stamina. I look better when I’m more thin, my clothes fit nicer, etc. Yet why I keep failing to change my life?

I look around my house. It’s small, but has everything you need for a basic life.

I can’t be really positive about the future. I don’t really look forward to anything. I’m scared a bit, yeah, but I don’t let that be the reason not to do anything. Things just don’t make sense. I don’t feel a drive, a motivation, it’s just ‘doesn’t really matter, does it?”

My love is also a bit trapped. We can talk about it. That’s good. But it doesn’t change things.

Sometimes I dream of this life, in the mountains, away from this world, where speed and efficiency and money seem to rule. Where you need to be connected, all the time.

I just can’t – it drives me insane. It’s not me. What are we doing?

I really tried. Tried to be a part of this world – but I seem to fail. I’m useless, I can’t keep up with the pace and the things, I can’t do 100 times at the same time and work and buy a house and exercise and going out and doing all the things like groceries and fun things and enjoy and stuff. It’s too much, I just can’t. At my work, I don’t mean anything either. I’m just a number, and some part you can exchange without missing anything.

It just gets me from time to time.

And it’s just making me sad, like really sad sometimes, like now.

 

The trainaccident.

Like usual after work, I take the train home. Yesterday I was happy to be off a bit earlier since I didn’t feel so great, and I took the train home. Yet this trainride, which usually takes 20 minutes, took 2,5 hours almost.

I was in a train that hit a person. The person did not survive. I don’t know if it was suicide or an accident, but I know the railwaycrossing is a ‘closed’ one; with those bars. And they were down.

Suddenly the train started to brake – but against these things I guess you can’t stop in time. There was a hit, and a lot of other sounds. It was obvious we hit something; and
I saw things flying from under the train. Things like a black small wheel, a brown big thing which looked like some kind of pillow, lots of stones (from the railwaytrack), other iron bars and some more little parts (which were maybe parts of a human body- I’m not sure it went all so fast).

The train stopped. Moments of silence. The traindriver giving the message, with a trembled voice: we just hit a person. We’re going to see if we can give first aid.

But first aid with a hit like that, I guess the chance of survival isn’t much. All I could think of is that whoever was under the train, had no chance of survival. And that I later learned, was the truth.

After standing on the railway in the middle of nowhere for a long time, with a lot of firemen, police and other people who ‘clean it up’, we were escorted out of the train to a bus that came to pick us up. We had to walk along the track into the direction of the actual hit. I didn’t want to look- I didn’t want to see anything more than I already saw. I guess I was afraid to see things, I mean, it was still a real person, and his or her life just ended in one or two seconds, and I was a witness of that. I heard, I felt, and I know. That’s such a strange thing to know. Boom, a life away in a flash. Just gone, poof, just like that.

I feel sorry. Sorry for that person. Sorry for the relatives, friends, beloved ones. Sorry for the traindriver, who saw way more then I did. Sorry for the people who saw it.

It’s maybe cruel to say, but I did wonder before how it’s like when things like this happen. I never really wanted to found out, these are not the things you would like to witness.But now I know anyway. The way it goes, the sounds, the feelings. The sensations. I had cold chills on my back while walking to the bus.

I stayed home from work today, I called in sick. I just said I couldn’t work, that I was sick.

It’s true that I was sick yesterday evening and during the night, now I’m not really sick sick and I slept, the whole thing didn’t keep me from sleeping. I don’t seem to feel particularly bad or something. But I was just not capable of going to work this morning.

Now I feel guilty I stayed at home. I’m able to work – but, also knowing that I would have a difficult day and I might have come back sick today if I would have gone.
Now I took care of myself right before getting real sick; but it makes me feel guilty. And I know how that doesn’t make sense. I feel weak, like I’m a person with a weak immune system, with lower energy levels, who calls in sick too quickly. In this world, it doesn’t seem to be about wellbeing. Yet I don’t really get why I know I should not feel guilty, I still do.

I seem to always have to be able to operate. And a moment like the train accident just makes me think: is it really worth it? Is it so bad to have to stop for a moment?

Sometimes the world stops for someone, and yet it just continues like nothing happens around. I don’t get where my head goes, and maybe the story doesn’t make sense.

 

When the sun goes down

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Sometimes,
or maybe just once,
all the colors of the world dissapear,
and you sink in to the deep
where there is no light

You sit on the bottom of the cave
and can’t fall deeper,
but can’t climb – you’re completely stuck

I don’t know what is worse,
but all I know is
that even if you’re on the bottom of the cave

and when the sun goes down
it does come up again
even if you can not bear the light.

The pebblestone in the desert

Honestly, I guess I have to admit I don’t have much ‘life’. It’s one of these days again that everything is empty and life seems an endless torture to me. I’m sad, empty and angry at the same time, and yet nothing at all.

Life is just not for everyone. To have a house, to lead a peaceful life, that’s just not for everyone. Like a pebblestone that needs water to bounce, I’m like a pebblestone that ended up in the desert. You just fall, and sink away in the sand: that’s me.

Somehow it’s a rough time again. Family issues, and the more I think about it, the more sick I feel. Emotional traps, nasty games, and even if I’m not super close, it affects me more then I would like to admit. And I feel so sorry for my parents, who are hugely affected by it. When I was younger I was angry at them so many times. And now I understand it better. Some things you just don’t see when you’re young. That they were trapped and part of an unfair, nasty game. I feel sorry for them that their lives are so destroyed and affected. It’s bad to say, but I hope they will be finally free when the person who does that and who is left, dies. That’s terrible to say I realize and know. Yet I’m afraid I think it would really be that way, though they will not ever be free from it: some damage is done forever.

Work was also pretty shitty, it gets worse. I can’t even find the words for it to describe what is going on. But I feel tension going up and up, I feel more pressure and I feel like I’m falling apart. I doubt about things I should not doubt, and I think I do my work less good.

I drag myself at home. I wait for the train, stare in the emptiness of the station, even when it’s full of people. I sit on the train, feeling braindead. I drag myself home; trying to slalom between cars and bikes and walking people who all seem to be in such a hurry and seem to rule the world, where’s there no space for empty people like me.

I hide myself in bed and when the night falls, I go out to the grocery store. Immediatly when you walk in, the neon signs and advertisements jump into your sights. I get superannoyed by that lately; it’s too much. With a task that’s not so difficult; get your groceries together but feels like running a survivalrun, I dissapear into the night again, trying to avoid every other living human being and try to get home as soon as I can, to crawl away in my cave again. I don’t want to face anyone or anything anymore, I just want to be left alone, and yet my heart aches so badly that I don’t know what to do about it. I feel awful, I’m not hungry and I don’t pick up my phone when someone calls.

All I am, is the pebblestone in the desert.

The boy and the railwaycrossing

Today I found myself in a weird situation. I got off the train and was doubting to take the bus to work, but since it was sunny and movement is better, I decided to walk. I pass two traincrossings on the way to work. Today on one of them, I saw a boy, just standing there.

First I passed, but something didn’t feel right. I don’t know why, but my stomach felt really weird. So I stopped walking and looked back. He was still there. I assume he was around fourteen or something, but I’m bad in guessing ages, so maybe that was not right. But anyway, that’s not a place to stay and chill. I stayed there for a little while, to observe him. Maybe that’s freaky, I don’t know. It’s a busy crossing and every one else in the car, on the bike or on foot seemed to be in their own worlds, no one noticing the boy. He sat on the fence; with his legs on the railway side. Trains drive there on full speed. He seemed not good to me somehow. I also know there’s a mental health centre close, so I don’t know, but it seemed not really okay to me.

While doubting what to do, I tried to collect my guts and ask him if he was okay. I felt my heartrate going up. But I walked up to him and asked. He looked at me a bit distant, saying he was fine. I don’t know, what are you supposed to say in situations like this? Maybe I say the wrong things, maybe I ask the wrong questions. I don’t know. I asked if he was okay and if he needed help. He said that he was okay. I didn’t really believe him, so I also said something like that I felt bad because I saw him hanging around the railwaycrossing. He said again: no, there’s nothing.  I said take good care of yourself, gave him a friendly slap on his shoulder and moved. He walked away a bit further, but still close around the railwaycrossing.

Still this terrible feeling in my stomach. I was standing there, tying to decide what to do. If he would try to jump in front of a train I would be able to stop him I guess, but that’s not a solution because I couldn’t stay all the time at that place. So I called the police and told them the story, and that I was not sure what to do. They said they send out a car. So I stayed there, just to make sure that he wouldn’t walk or stand on the crossing. And waiting for the police to talk to them. (I think the boy noticed that I was waiting, and he saw the police car coming, and then started to walk away from the railway.)

I spoke with the officers, telling them everything above. They said that they would go talk to him and check, and thanked me for the phonecall. I was late at work (but I called to say why so that was fine). But I felt superweird.It touched something inside of me I guess, because I had suicidal thoughts in the past – so I don’t know, something of his look or behaviour reminded me of that. At work – my work sucks with certain things, but with this they seem to be really nice- there were a few people ‘waiting’ for me, to check and talk because they heard why I was coming in late. Not that it solves anything, but it was still nice, to know that they were there.

I couldn’t really concentrate at work, and in the end I called the police back to see if they could give me any news or if the boy was allright. I wasn’t sure if they were allowed to give me any news, but they told me that the officers went to talk to him and decided he was not ‘in need of any urgent help’ so they didn’t take him.
I guess I did the right thing; I couldn’t have lived with myself if I wouldn’t have stopped and check, and hear in the news later that someone died because of jumping in front of a train there. I hope the boy isn’t angry on me now, and that he understands when it was a false alarm. But I guess it’s better that he is pissed off with me then when he would really be so bad and no one would have cared.

I still find it weird that in the time I observed,  no one, seemed to notice. Or no one seemed to care. No one seemed to find it weird. I just wonder, about that.

I guess all I can do, is hope that he is okay. Like in, really okay.

The face without the picture

 

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The winter tends to blow apart –
where autumn reminds the flowers to drop their leaves
it’s not the time, yet.

in the hallway, there is a bookcase,
dark brown, from wood,
old books, a vase, and a picture frame
where it should –

stand alone
or stand together
It’s a frameless frame for what it matters
And what you see is what you get

The life without the heart
A rain that doesn’t wet.

Sometimes there is no fix

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All you see is a drowned leaf in the water; it’s shallow, and clear, but there’s no way you could – or could have-  rescued.

There is no fix, for certain things.

Right now, I’m not having the best time of my life. I always have these periods, and I will always have them. I don’t believe they will ever dissapear. Because the not sleeping aka insomnia continued, and I really felt like I would break down, I went to the doctor. I have a new one, since I moved, and he’s a bit weird in some ways I guess, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with him. He prescribed me some sleeping pills – which is actually what I came for. Last night was the first night I slept again, not enough, but at least I slept.

I remember a part of the conversation. Of course he asked why I couldn’t sleep.

Stress. Stuff. Life. Work. All the usual things, I guess. And, life is just difficult for me. I find life difficult, and it might probably always stay that way.

What he could do for me? I said that I knew he can’t fix my problems. That I know no one can fix my problems, and that some things can’t be fixed. All I wanted was sleep, and so I needed medication now, and he is the key to that.

Because usually I can manage to fix – or control – things in my life.

But sometimes I can’t. And this was now.

I’m not feeling better, I’m feeling low. Just low, not even depressed. But all that I know is that some things, can not be fixed. Not now, not in the past, not in the future.