THE GLASS CHILD

CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON

 

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Songwriter.  Author.  Dreamer. Wanderer.

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    • Charlotte Eriksson
      • May 25, 2019

    with the stars above me



    I only breathe in fully in rare moments of walking home barefoot at midnight. Slowly, wearing a simple t-shirt, no make-up, salt in my hair. It’s summer. It’s warm. I dream and I wander and I have rare moments of endless nights where I breathe in fully. I tip toe on the street lines, like a ballerina, and he’s carrying my shoes. I share, I listen, I laugh freely straight out in the night and he smiles, at me laughing, maybe. I don’t think of fame or glory, money or contracts. I don’t think of other years, past or future, the mornings in the hallways, wanting someone to stay. anyone. I think nothing of that, I only think of this sky, this moment, this night. His voice sounding strange and unfamiliar and he has a weird way of turning his whole body towards me when I’m talking, like he wants to take it all in, not just listen—he wants to see it all. We say goodbye and I walk the last bit alone, feeling better. feeling lighter. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I’m still a free floating leaf in the universe, going places on my own without telling anyone about my plans. I pack my things, board that plane and off I go. I sleep alone, I wake alone, but I have moments of speeding through empty streets at midnight, or walking home with someone who sounds strange and wonderful, telling stories until the sun goes up, and I breathe in fully, wanting to stay a little longer, just another breath. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If I close my eyes I’m still walking on that street with the stars above me.

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    CONTACT

    Booking & PR: lisa@brokenglassrecords.se

     

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

     

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    • Home

    • My Story

    • My Books

    • Store

    • House Concerts / Book Me

    • Podcast

    • Writing Tumblr

    • Workshops & Speaking

    • Selected Writings

    • VIP Fan Club

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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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