New Book + Old Book of Your Choice (for half the price!)

Purchase my brand new book "He loved me some days. I'm sure he did." and get one of my previously published books for half the price!
Signed with love by me! ♡
 
 
My previously published books to choose between are:
• Empty Roads & Broken Bottles; in search for The Great Perhaps
• Another Vagabond Lost To Love; Berlin stories
• You're Doing Just Fine
• Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself
 
You can read more about all my books here.
 
♥ Please read Shipping Info + Return Policies below before placing an order ♥
 
 
 
EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN I FORGAVE MYSELF
The 4th book from Swedish songwriter & author Charlotte Eriksson is a narrative journey of both prose and poetry, meditating on the joys and struggles of growing up. It's about consciously creating yourself, finding a place in the world and not being afraid to get lost on the way.
 
“The most impactful moments of my life have been the clean ones. The clean streets in the early a.m. hours—the town is mine to own. The blank pages—no story yet written. The new friendship, the new name, the new pair of eyes staring into mine and I can be whoever I want from now on.”
 
 
“Love does the job. travelling too. writing does it. music.
Also art, whisky, dark-coloured flowers and watching the landscape change in October. Driving on a small road somewhere in Italy with a beautiful boy and I don’t want to be anywhere else in the whole wide world than right there, with him, that very car, smiling.
But I close my eyes for one second and the moment is gone. I’m back to getting high on empty roads somewhere in Sweden and I’m the loneliest girl in the whole damn world and I just want all things beautiful. I just want the music, the literature, the art and the moments of driving in a car with a beautiful boy in Italy.
but here, alone, I have no cares in the world.
I have no cares in the world. I just want it all to be beautiful.”
 


“No one will come and save you. No one will come riding on a white horse and take all your worries away. You have to save yourself, little by little, day by day. Build yourself a home. Nurture your body. Find something to work on. Something that makes you excited, something you want to learn. Get yourself some books and learn them by heart. Get to know the author, where he grew up, what books he read himself. Take yourself out for dinner. Dress up for no one but you and simply feel nice. It’s a lovely feeling, to feel pretty. You don’t need anyone to confirm it.
I get so goddamn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days, but I’m learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I’m learning to make things nice for myself. Slowly building myself a home with things I like. Colours that calm me down, a plan to follow when things turn dark. A few people I try to treat right, even though I don’t sometimes, but it’s my intention to do so. I’m learning.
I’m learning to make things nice for myself. I’m learning to save myself.
 
I’m trying, as I always will.”
 
_________
 
HE LOVED ME SOME DAYS. I'M SURE HE DID
 
Someone once said, “Get your heart real good and broken and you’ll be a poet for the rest of your life.” Well, I don’t actually know if someone ever said this but I hope someone did ‘cause I would like to hear it. I would like to know that this pain will last for good reasons and that my words will come back through it
‘cause I’ve been dry on words like a prayer in the desert, no life or sign of spark. I’ve lived so nicely, so slowly, making my way towards something I never really knew what, but it was so nice, to slow down. To not flee, just stay. A quiet living. A quiet street. I have lived so nicely.
 
I expected a catastrophic chaos and all kinds of awful, but my heart is strangely quiet.
There is a quiet peace even in the loudness of a heart breaking. There is a strange sense of acceptance, like nodding my head to myself, saying, it’s alright, it’s alright, you’re doing fine. Maybe I’m just older. Been here before, know my way out. Maybe it’s quietly dying—sometimes I feel like I am. Either way, how does ‘alive’ feel? But I know I can’t go back, only forward, no use in fighting, so onwards I go, a little every day, and I do the best I can.
 
It comes in waves, mostly at night. Dreams and memories resurfacing and I wake up cold and tired, lonely in a vast sea of sadness. how can the lack of someone feel so large? how can the lack of someone feel so heavy? it’s December and the early evenings are so dark.
 
My brain jumps in and out, hopeful to devastated. I’m crying but I’m so so happy. I’m sorry, but I’m so grateful. For the lessons. For the growth. 
I should have focused on being a writer. I used to write quite well, I think? I had a lot to say, a lot to think about. I think a lot of people could relate. I got letters and gifts back then, people saying “thank you”. I should have kept to my words, kept writing to people and for people and maybe I could have been someone for someone. You know, one of those you turn to when you’re in pain.
But i’m back again, feeling things, staying up with the moon, listening to the same old songs, like back then, when i wrote, all the time, saying things, reaching out. Maybe I can be someone now, for someone. Maybe I can write myself out of this one too, like I’ve done so many times. 
 
I will be a writer now. I will say it all.