Ibland skriver jag på engelska och kallar mig själv pretentiös.

It was something. I didn't really know what it was, but it scared me. Frightened me, at the same time it filled me with some sort of joy. It was not love-joy, not sex-joy and it wasn't the joy I get from listening to AC/DC with my stereo turned up as loud as it gets. Frankly, I don't know what sort of joy it was because I have never felt it before. And also, I guess it was too soon to tell. It should have been too soon to even have been there, but it still was there for a second that night and I can't really get it off my mind. Can't get that smile off my mind. It haunts me and it still scares me.
Somethings are beautiful, just because they're not understandable, but this? This is not beautiful, because I've learned, had to teach myself, that hurtful things are not beautiful.

They're just scary.