The Old Gang – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

I loved you
I know I fucked up, but so did you
I apologized several times
When are you going to apologize to me?
I don’t want to waste any more words on you
It’s better that we stay unfriends
I loved you
I know I fucked up, but so did you
I apologized to you and you did apologize to me
Then you didn’t talk to me for a long time
When you came back, you had no place to live
So you started talking to me again
Right out of the fucking blue
It’s better that we stay unfriends
I loved you
None of us fucked up
We just made very different choices
Those choices changed us both
It took a long time,
but eventually we couldn’t recognize each other anymore
It’s better that we stay unfriends
But you’re the only one I wish I could still be friends with
I genuinely hope you’re happy
Good luck and live well

by Andreas Blaustein

Annonser

Ten Years Ago – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

I had dreams bigger than life itself
I wanted to be everything
I had time upon time and even more time
Then I took too much time
That’s how I learned the meaning of days passing
I have a new dream now
I haven’t started working on it yet
but I have time
I promise

by Andreas Blaustein

Fairy Tales – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

I’m what they call a hopeless romantic
I idealize everything
And I want the perfect love story
The story is what I really fall in love with
I like giving roses
I like that knight in shining armour shit
That fucking ‘You’re the love of my life’ shit
I’m what they call a hopeless romantic
because I can’t stop seeing the world of love
in the form of a fairy tale
But reality is not a fairy tale
Reality is biting cold and bleeding wounds
How many times do I have to be punched in the face before I get it?
Probably until I get a brain damage
Maybe then will my brain shut up and stop telling me these fairy tales
I just want love, something real
But it’s too hard and it relies too much on chance
Just thinking of it all makes me dead tired
Fucking hell, it’s going to be good to die someday

by Andreas Blaustein

Friends – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

All they want is food and water
They want to play and take walks
They want to be petted, sit in you lap and sleep in your bed
They want company and friendship
If you give them these simple things
they will give you their world
and they’ll never fail you
Dogs are more human than us
because they live up to our ideals
better than we do

by Andreas Blaustein

Hope – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

Hope made me
It also broke me
but I was never happy without it
I can feel spots of mould growing all over my brain
Whatever
I guess I’ll just keep living
and hope
that the problem solves itself

by Andreas Blaustein

Short Story: Once In My Life

Four old paws trodding along at a quarter of regular walking pace can either be frustrating or peaceful depending on who you ask. For Richard it was nothing but peaceful and he thought the rest of humanity could learn a thing or two from Frank, or Frankie the dog as he sometimes called him. He was named after the one and only Frank Sinatra because when Richard had bought this beautiful little dog and was driving him to his new home, one of Sinatra’s songs was playing on the radio.
”For once in my life, nananana,” sang Richard to himself while Frank was smelling at what looked to be nothing but asphalt. He regretted at that moment that he had never moved to the countryside where dogs could run around and play on big open fields. It was too late for that now, though.
The walk took thirty minutes, but for a younger dog it might have taken ten or fifteen minutes. When they got home, Frank tried to jump up on the couch. It was too high for his age, and he tried and tried without getting up. Richard carried him up on the couch and wrapped him in the softest blanket he had. He sat down beside Frank and turned on the TV. There they sat until Frank fell asleep and Richard right after. The couch was exceptionally good to fall asleep in and they did so often. When morning came, one of the two friends woke up. Richard petted Frank gently to wake him up for breakfast, but he didn’t wake up.”Time for food, Frank. Don’t you want food?” said Richard.
Frank didn’t wake up. Richard listened for breathing and heard none. He put his hand on Frankie’s chest and felt no heartbeat. It was all over. Richard wasn’t needed anymore. He pressed his face into Frankie’s fur and cried. He held the small corpse in his arms and kept crying until there was no tears left. He went down to the cellar to get a shovel. When he came back up to the apartment he re-wrapped Frank in his blanket and carried him to the car. After about an hour’s drive, they arrived at a parking lot near a forest. Richard walked with Frankie in his arms for thirty minutes until they came to a field. He carried Frank to the middle of the field and buried him there.
”You’ll be happy here,” he said to the unmarked grave. ”At least you didn’t suffer.”
He sat down beside the grave, feeling empty. Without knowing why, he picked up his phone from his pocket and called his father who he hadn’t talked to for more than ten years.
”Hello?” said a woman’s voice.”Who’s this?” said Richard, thinking he had the wrong number.
”Violet. Who’s calling?”
”I’m Richard and I’m looking for Joe. Is he there?”
”Richard? You’re Joe’s son, he talked about you. Joe died recently, Richard. Overdose.”
Richard didn’t know what to feel or what to say.
”You still there?” said Violet.
”Yeah. Why do you have my dad’s phone?”
”I’m keeping it as a memory of him, but mostly I end up telling the people who call him that he is dead. I’m his partner.”
”I didn’t even know he had a partner.”
”I know,” she said, and an awkward silence arose.
”Overdose?” said Richard. ”Was it painful?”
”I don’t know about the overdose itself, but the reason for taking that much drugs must have been. I have to go now, Richard. Goodbye.”
”Bye,” he said. He considered if he should call Violet again to talk about funeral arrangements. Then he walked back to the car and drove home.

by Andreas Blaustein

Who The Fuck? – The First 25 Years of a Dreamer

Modern life demands so many things of me
I’m supposed to get eight hours of sleep each night
I’m supposed to work out
Get to work in time
If I have a job I don’t like
I’m supposed to simply find another job that I like
The problem is that I don’t like any job at all
I’m supposed to check my notifications from all the apps
I’m supposed to answer messages, e-mails and calls
I’m supposed to have a party, fuck, drink and meet new people
I’m supposed to know everything that’s going on in the world
I’m supposed to have an opinion on all of it
Whether I know anything about it or not is not important
And I’m supposed to remember
to have a lot of super duper fun and carpe the shit out of that diem
I’m supposed to live until I’m ninety
and die happy
Who the fuck can live up to all of this shit?

by Andreas Blaustein