Yesterday I wished I was a ball of yarn, rolled up into myself, like a warm, cozy little self sufficient world.


An introvert gone supernova

I’m an introvert gone supernova. I need time alone, and that includes time away even from my partner. We have had rough times for a while and I’ve tried to make it work by acting extroverted, talking for the sake of talking and always trying to do things together. That, of course, only made things worse by draining me without giving anything to us. But I didn’t understand, so eventually I got stuck in that mode.

I had moved to a new city and left my few but close friends behind. And in this new setting I entirely forgot that I am an introvert and that when I am social – which I really do enjoy – I must get time to charge my energy in between. But I was trying to fit in and got desperate somehow to make everyone around me happy. Except myself.

I didn’t understand why my energy got so low and never recharged. I became, like a star burning it’s last fuel in a bright flash before dying, a supernova. This is my most recent insight into myself. It was just the other week I finally put the pieces together. Introvert and never alone. Of course I’ll get fatigued. Now I try to make sure I get time by myself and though it’s a long way back, I’ve started to recover, I think.

Being someone you’re not is exhausting.



I have so many messages I need to get out. But my communications array is overloaded. It’s the middle of the night here and I can’t sleep. There is a chaos waiting to be formulated, put into words. Like I want to harness my feelings, making them real by shaping them into words. While they are still undefined those feelings have power over me, freezing my conscious self while the unconscious runs amok. I have to make them tangible. Need to write them down. I’ll try.

Addendum: Every fragment I write captures some thoughts, piece by piece. I’m just afraid I’ll discover that every piece comes from a different puzzle. Or maybe that would make me relieved — then there’s an explanation to this mess that is me. Thinking of it, now I’m kind of curious.



For many years I really thought I was straight. Well, I am not homosexual because I am attracted to the opposite gender. So then I have to be straight, I thought. But of course it is not that simple. I sometimes blushed and got hot from people of the same gender too. At school I forced myself not to accidentally peek in the shower after gym class. I was so scared that if I looked it would mean that there was something wrong with me.

Growing up in a small village, and later in a small town, I didn’t want rumors to start. Though I think maybe there were suspicions anyway. I knew of no one that was gay or in any way related to LBGT where I lived at that time. At least I didn’t see it. I was also a bit naive I suppose. Sex education wasn’t so great and my god how my face turned red when the teachers talked about homosexuality. I didn’t listen, I just wanted them to stop talking cause it felt like everyone was looking at me. This was many years ago. Today I wonder if anyone even noticed and if so what they thought it meant.

I had crushes on some girls and some boys. I got off to fantasies about both boys and girls. I secretly watched straight, lesbian and gay erotica. Gender didn’t matter, setting and scene did. But despite this, for a long time, I still thought of myself as completely straight, and only had straight relationships. The mind is complicated, especially mine, and I simply didn’t understand there was another option.

Finally, only a few years ago, when I met my partner who had no doubt in who she was or her sexuality, I realized that I was bisexual. I hadn’t even considered it, didn’t understand that was an option. Maybe it was the usual prejudice: “Confused and hasn’t chosen side yet”. But as this realization matured I realized that I didn’t care about gender or gender expression. I’m liminal, I like to explore the borders, to be in an unspecified in between. I’m not confused, not in this case anyway. I am interested in hearts, no matter their parts.

Today I am even more specific and call myself pansexual, because I want to include non-binary people too. Sometimes I just say bi cause more people understand what that means, and maybe it’s just semantics. I feel what I feel, I am what I am, and understanding and accepting this has made me more of a whole human being. This is a big deal for me, but hopefully no big deal for everyone else.

Phew, I thought I’d never dare to write and post this. I don’t know what I am trying to say, or why I am posting it – I suppose it is some kind of therapy, as someone observed in a comment on an earlier post. I feel a bit naked and vulnerable now, please be kind.


Inside Universe

“How can I explain this. It’s like a shell. We live in the soft, fleshy body of a hermit crab, endlessly walking the seabed. All matter we observe – seafood. Encapsulating that is the shell; hard, separate and a completely different world. We don’t know where it came from, but it’s there all the same.”

TVS Monthly Nanofiction Bonanza April 2017
The challenge: Write a story, exactly 55 words.
What if the universe we perceive is contained within another universe?


A rare woodpecker

There is a rare kind of woodpecker living in the wall of my old house where my father lives. Every morning while I was visiting, at 6.15 sharp, it woke me up with a noise like a small machine gun. But since this particular species is an endangered species my father doesn’t want to chase it away. In fact bird watchers go there to watch it.

First morning, vacation and all, I just wanted to shoot the damned thing. But then after a few days I got used to it. Last morning it didn’t even wake me up. Now I am on a train going home and I have accepted that even noisy birds must be allowed to live and do what they do best. I suppose I’m a noisy bird myself.


What is a story?

Uhm, the story is the soul, but the message is not the body, it’s the scent, hardly noticeable, but very important for attraction or repulsion and lots and lots of subliminal things.


Cease the day

Cease the day, roll out the night, as I discreetly move in the fringes of the second dimension of time, I push the borderland, I embrace the unknown, the abstruse, dives further into idea space to find the stem cells of the mind, the malleable words that simultaneously creates myself and the world.


My muse is a bitch

She softly gives me a great idea and while I happily plan how to take good care of it she throws ten more, related ideas, into my unprepared, fumbling arms and says while laughing hysterically: “Now you also have to take care of all these! Good luck!”



First I write my name into existence; then I write my life into reality. I am Ellinor Kall! I spell the secret words that unhides the truth to stand here naked among you – kindred spirits, wonderful writers and magnificent magicians!


The Oracular Nomenclature

  • The Divine is inspiration (flow).
  • Holy is one that is inspired (one who is whole).
  • Sacred is that which inspires (beauty, art, nature, emotions, etc).
  • Infernal is that which distracts (aggression, threats, coercion, etc).
  • Sin is blocking or ruining (to hinder someone else from doing or destroying possibilities for others).
  • Hell is physical existence, the body, eating and drinking, concrete actions, feeling pain and joy, doing things together, groups cooperating, relations, sex, orgies, conflict, chaos, the selfish ego = the amygdala.
  • Heaven is mental existence, the mind, consciousness, thinking, logic, creating, art, abstraction, content with solitude and introspection, masturbation (if at all), acceptance, control, the transcendent ego = the prefrontal cortex.
  • The Trinity is a state when sacred, holy and divine is in harmony.
  • Magic is creation and influence emanating from the Trinity that is manifesting inside reality. (See further definition in another text.)
  • Sorcery is the very dangerous operation of changing the actual reality itself (changing the source). (See further definition…)

(More words to be explained…)



When the tightrope catches fire you better run, she said as I ventured out over the bottomless chasm with the intention of never looking back. As soon as I felt the heat I started to scurry along the line. Flames licked my legs and my soles got scorched black as well as my soul. The acrid smell of burning hair was overwhelming and I could feel the fibers bursting like ruptured tendons in the rope under my feet. Finally my mask of wax, that I had carried to conceal my true face for a long time, melted and the sizzling, fiery drops disappeared in the abyss below. Everything was pain. But if I fell I knew I would never get back up from the depth again. So I tried to focus through the sweat and tears in my eyes. Run, she screamed, and I ran like never before.