sometimes quiet is violent

Hi! I'm rewriting this for the fourth time and forcing myself to stop thinking about anyone else's reaction and focus on who these posts are really for - future me. Things right now feel weird and liminal. It's 2.03am, so that might be one of the reasons for this unsettling mood, but it's also the fact that everything is changing. I don't know if I'll remember how I felt now, because I sure as hell know I can't remember how I was feeling before I started this whole university thing four years ago (and that is one of the reasons I'm glad this blog still exists, empty as it may be lately, because I can go read all about it). Every year this blog gets a panicky summer update, so I felt it was time to continue that tradition, but it is also the end of an era. That feels very over dramatic to say, but it's true. Just like when I moved here, everything is changing again. I'm moving back to Finland, and though I no longer see that as a sign I've f

This is a story, and a memory, a premonition but also a song, softly chanted. It does not need to be understood, in the way me and you do.   The bruises only appeared once a month, to begin with. Small and so purple they were almost black, the size of a penny, in the indentation of my hip. Or high up on my inner thigh. Never above my waist, always trailing down my leg or behind my knee. I didn’t know how to explain them, at first. I didn’t remember hitting myself against anything, being prodded or battered by something. Nothing that would’ve caused such an impact, to bruise so darkly and in such a shape. I woke up one morning and found a bigger bruise, on the side of my thigh under my hipbone. It was right in the middle of an area I had been scratching the night before. In my mind, I dismissed that it had been me. Sure, I had used pressure to scratch, to tend to the itch in the skin in the area, but there was no way I had the level of strength that was required to bruise myself li