THE GLASS CHILD

CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON

 

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Songwriter.  Author.  Dreamer. Wanderer.

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    • Charlotte Eriksson
      • Jan 6, 2020

    I would go places, they said, once.

    They tell me I have an interesting life. Going places, seeing people, and I shrug my shoulders as I pour another drink, sitting lonely on my floor in my empty room, another Sunday, in another city, like I’ve done so many times for so many years and they tell me I’m lucky and should be grateful. And yes, I am grateful. I was grateful walking lonely through a freezing Berlin on Christmas Eve last year and I was grateful as I lied about my name and job and age to everyone I met and meet and if you seek the papers where I’ve been the last years you will find nothing. Or at best, or worst, a spread-out girl leaving small traces here and there, covering it up with different states of mind or jobs or names and there was a time they said I would go places. I would go places, they said, once, way back when. And this is what I think of as I’m sitting lonely on the train home from another night of beautiful people, welcoming me into their homes with open arms. I played some songs and they hugged me like I’ve never been hugged before, by anyone who knows me, and they told me “thank you” and “I love you” and hugged me again, like I’ve never been hugged by anyone who knows me, and they were grateful. For me. And so was I. For them. Human interaction: the most complicated form of happiness I will never figure out.


    // from my book Another Vagabond Lost To Love

    Read more about the book here >>>


    Some more of my writings ...

    I will be a writer now

    I am not a broken heart

    Growing up is a wonderful thing to do

    • Another Vagabond Lost To Love

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    Writing from The Road

    it could have been so beautiful

    The Sweetest Rain

    Help me keep doing what I do

    I’m a completely independent artist, living all by myself with no other support than yours. If you find any comfort or hope in what I do, my music or my writings, please consider supporting me, in order to be able to keep doing this. To keep learning, creating, growing and sharing what I learn. Everything matters, between a coffee to a donation for my next album. 

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    CONTACT

    Booking & PR: lisa@brokenglassrecords.se

     

    I am currently taking bookings for solo shows, house concerts, workshops and speaking engagements.

     

    Interested in hosting a house concert? Just write to me and we'll plan it together!

     

    contact@charlotteeriksson.com

     

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    • Home

    • My Story

    • My Books

    • Store

    • House Concerts / Book Me

    • Podcast

    • Writing Tumblr

    • Workshops & Speaking

    • Selected Writings

    • VIP Fan Club

    • Reading List

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      Books Charlotte Eriksson.jpg
      Charlotte Eriksson Books

      5am
      again,
      drunk on someone else’s love,
      or couch,
      and I’ve never felt more at home.

      ​

      I fled myself,
      from the life I’ve built
      because I’ve been inhabiting routines I don’t want to stand for.

      Inhabiting skin I’d rather shed
      but still took on
      like a soldier serving his country,
      for that’s what they told me to do.
      But I was not
      strong
      or wise,
      but young and foolish,
      for what is this thing? Trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance,

      and I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
      with clean blood
      and organised drawers.
      I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
      at night when no one else is alive,
      or awake,
      however you choose to see it,
      and I live in my own flames.
      Sometimes burning too bright and too wild
      to make things last 
      or handle
      myself or anyone else
      and so I run.
      Run run run,
      far and wide
      until my bones ache and lungs split
      and it feels good.
      Hear that, people? It feels good,
      because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
      and I wish to do with it exactly as I please,
      and living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times,

      because I never volunteered to take this on.

      The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,
      the forever on going task of explaining this and that,
      and why I don’t want to look like this and
      be like that
      but still here I am and if this is the body I’ve been given I’m sure as hell gonna make it work.
      If this is the place I’ve been given, I’m sure as hell gonna make this work.

      ​

      So I fled the me that was never really me and I’m on my way. To newer lands and uncleaned streets
      for I’ve had enough of childish safety in comfort.
      Enough of all telling me to look and do, like this and that,

      and I never meant to please anyone but myself
      and you can call me selfish,
      throw words like knives in the dark but I will not listen,
      for not listening to sharp words brought me to where I am today
      and I believe in the path I’ve been given. If my only task in this life is to walk it,
      I surely will walk it
      prouder than anyone else.

      ​

      If this is the path I’ve been given, I will walk it
      prouder than anyone else,
      for no one else can.

      ​

      // from my book You’re Doing Just Fine ☾

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