ef og þegar

þegar ég var yngri virtust húsin stærri. lífið var upp fullt af möguleikum.
when i was younger death seemed to me like a beautiful woman cled in black, wearing white mascara. she smiled to me tempting and she made me feel 'come to me and i will heal you, i will make you complete'.
death was a soothing sound of music, i was willing to hear. and i gravitated towards her.
now death seems only cold. the darkness has shifted colour, there are endless pitches of black in the world.
i guess death is only tempting when you want to feel nothing at all, but up close its not that great.
funny how the angle always shifts. every month its changing. and every day is a new oppertunety to react.
how am i using my time? i ask. i am using it to regret, mostly.
maybe someday, i will find a way out of this.
when i drove into town and the lightbulbs lighted up, i felt i could perhaps light up as well.
maybe there is another chance after all?
the difference is, when you put your finger in the wound of life, do you lose your belief or can you use it to gain it back?