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When Poseidon was born, he had a number burned into his flank, marking him as a bastard, because his mother was not approved of by the breeding associations. Yes, back then, foals were still burned in Denmark.

The burn marks were mostly left untreated, so it would scar as much as possible. Heal as badly as possible.

In Poseidon’s case, they succeeded. I believe I have written a book about this horse and the mental scars he suffered from his first two years with those people, but I don’t think I mentioned the burn mark.

When I bought him as a two year old, it was not healed. Part of it was infected and the flank was swollen. Due to how untouchable Poseidon was, I could just watch it, and hope for the best, because there were more pressing matters with this horse.

 

Once I did get closer to him, and he allowed me to touch him, we managed to heal it somewhat, but, I don’t know. It never really healed. Maybe because it had been a permanent wound for two years.

Some days it was better than others.

In time, it became a perfect symbol of every thing that was done to him, how neglected he had been, how scared, wounded and bleeding he was.

How, no matter what I did, I could never quite help him escape the demons in his mind.

15 years, we shared. 15 years, I asked myself every single day, if today was the day, I would fail him for real. If it was today, that he would hurt someone, and I had to put him down. If it was today, that he would hurt himself so badly, that I could not treat it. If it was today, I simply owed him, to let him have peace.

He was, and always will be, the person who created me. Everything I am, I am because he needed me to be this person.

My heart, my soul, my star, my endless night. My greatest accomplishment and my biggest failure. 15 years.

I have not cried for him once, since he died.

It feels like all the tears I had to cry for him, cried when he was alive. Letting him go in the end, was a strange kind of relief.

My pasture is empty without him, let’s not pretend that a persona as huge as his, does not leave a vacuum, and my life has a lot less purpose and direction now.

But I don’t… miss him much. Not really.

I miss us. Who I was, with him.

I am honored to have known him. I am humbled that he chose me and allowed me to love him. I am happy that I saw him through this life and I am grateful for everything I learned, growing up with him.

And I am  relieved that he is finally at peace.

In a strange way, so am I, now that he is no longer suffering. Now that the scars finally do not matter anymore.

I have been wanting a tattoo for a long time, and I did consider having his name written on me, but somehow that felt wrong. I mean, what of the others then? Apollon, his brother? Legacy, the horse that never had a chance, and shattered me into a thousand little pieces? Amalia, the girl that kept me sane for 14 years? Why Poseidon, and not any of them?

I know that Poseidon was my “special” case, but in truth, so was Apollon. So was Legacy. They were all special in their own way.

And then it hit me. The burn mark. The scar that never healed. The number, that was burned into his skin when he was young and untouched by human hands. The number that was all he was, to the world around us. The bastard foal, that was my entire world for 17 years. (Yes, I knew him for 2 years before I could buy him.)

It’s been 6 years since he died now. 6 years, since he put his life in my hands one last time, and I took it from him. 6 years.

I could have sworn it was yesterday, he closed those huge eyes for the last time and the most amazing spirit, the bravest soul I ever knew, departed this world.

I guess it is my turn now. I had the number tattooed on my arm. Not to remember the damage that was done to him, not to remind myself that I could not heal his scars, but simply because nothing symbolizes us better.

This mark was forced upon us, by a world we never fitted into. A world where we were just passing by, fighting to survive, day by day.

You may read this and think that this is a sad story, but it is not. We did survive. We were happy. We did good. We got so amazingly far. We learned to live.

That is what this number mean to me.

Reminding me to live, in spite of everything.

Not just survive.

Live.

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Be Loud

I’m going to Be Loud this weekend.

For those of you who don’t know what that is; it is a Les Mills fitness event. I am not sure what possessed me to sign up for that, except that an old friend- my oldest friend, actually- and I have had fun working out together in the past, only… We don’t go to the same gym on every day basis.

Why? Well… She is pretty serious about her training, and the gym she is using have most of Les Mills programs- unlike my gym.

I would say that I am pretty serious about my training as well, and I have considered changing gyms for a long time now.

Don’t get me wrong. I like my gym. I like most of the trainers, a lot of the people who goes there, and we do have some of Less Mills programs. And not to sound snobbish, but I like them more than the other classes my gym offers, simply because when I go to Less Mills BodyPump for instance, I know what to expect. I know what weight to use, how much repetition, and so forth. It just makes it easier for me, to push myself. When I go to another class, where it is up to the instructor to create the program, I never know what to expect.

And changing gyms, would allow me to see my friend more. So why not?

Well… Hands down, because of another friend, who is at my gym.

So, since I am not jumping ship right now, I figured that my oldest friend and I could have a fun day killing me at Be Loud.

She is so tough. Like, really, really tough. While we were growing up together, I always felt inadequate next to her. She was always stronger than me, always braver, always prettier… She was always everything I was not. People used to think we were twins, because we looked so alike, but for us, the differences between us were huge.

I know, that she always felt that she came up short next to me as well, because I did good at school, without even trying, and even though she was the one who ended up getting an education while I dropped out, she still feels less intellectual, because I became a writer.

Friendship is weird, isn’t it?

We have known each other for 30 years, and we both feel diminished in each other’s presence.

I am seriously terrified, going with her to Be Loud. I am sure I am going to die and she is going to be awesome, as always.

With Pokemon Go community day coming up this Saturday, I nearly bailed on her. I mean, come on. I can always work out. I can always try the rest of Less Mills programs. I am not changing gyms anyway, right?

I spoke to her briefly the other day,  confirming a few details about the train and such. Even thought we just exchanged three texts, she managed to mention that at least four of the programs includes choreography and that she expected me to rock those.

She knows I’m dancing, (or trying to,) at my gym, but it just hit me when she wrote that. As much as I feel inadequate next to her… She is kind of intimidated, going with me.

Because we are so different. Because we do things differently. Because people always compared us. WE always compared us.

Friendship is strange. If it really is friendship between us.

She was always more like a sister. Like there is this unspoken bond between us, that life and time cannot break, no matter what happens, or how little we have in common. Or how much we compete.

So, yeah. I’m going to Be Loud this weekend. And it is going to be tons of fun, and I will be dying, even if I have tried to get myself ready since we signed up. And luckily, I have the best friend in the world, who is going to look after my Pokemon account(s) for community day… (Thank you thank you thank you :* )

And I’m still terrified. And still surprised that she thinks that I will be better than her. At anything.

I guess we should talk at some point.

But we won’t. That is the basis for our relationship. We never talk. Not really. Words always did more damage than good between us anyway.

Friendship is weird.

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#GishTheWorld And Starstone

I’m still alive. I know it’s been ages since I’ve updated this blog. Truth is, I haven’t written anything in months now. I am so unfocused, I can’t even manage to keep up with my TV series. I am even failing on My Little Pony season 8… It’s awesome, btw, the episodes I have watched, but I have no focus lately.

I have tried opening my manuscripts to start writing again, because I know exactly where both of the books I am working on are going, I just… never get to take them there. I cannot seem to collect my thoughts.

I AM doing GISH this year, though, and I am totally looking forward to it. For those of you who doesn’t know, GISH is the new GISHWHES, and yes, it will be a cold day in hell before I do not join that.

GISH has its own app now, (download it in your playstore,) which means that aside from the actual competition once a year, Misha gets to torture us at random, whenever he feels like it.

Seriously, download it. Who doesn’t like a little torture by the overlord?

Well, on this app, Misha posted a challenge, asking us to create a world and invite people to apply for citizenship. I thought about it for a while, I mean, creating worlds used to be my thing. I am a writer, after all. But I kind of dismissed the idea, because in reality, the best world for me right now, would be a deserted island with no internet connection, no Pokemon Go, no society expecting me to be someone I am not; nothing to drag me out of my head, so I could get back to writing.

That’s a bit hard to invite people to join, right? And it defeats the purpose of Misha wanting to create a more open and warm world.

Then a friend, and team mate, of mine asked what he could win if he would do it. I have no idea; knowing Misha it is probably going to be a 4 am wake up call or a pile of kale. But the realization that my friend might do it, kicked me into action. I am the f***** team captain again this year, and so far, I have done nothing at all.

I know, I will, once GISH starts, but why not before? Why leave it to a virgin member of the team?

I knew that he was going to do an amazing job, and I knew that there was no way I was creating anything close to what he would do, but there was one thing I could handle.

I have been asked, a lot, to release the map on which the Starstone series are based. I never did, because I always disapproved of my drawing style, but this challenge seemed designed to kick me back into my world. If not to write, then at least to find the old map and scale it up. Translate it to English as well.

This map was drawn when I was 13 years old. This is my world. This is where I have lived for most of my life. Sitting down on my floor and redrawing it, was a pretty amazing experience.

It felt like coming home, even if I managed to forget half of the names of the landmarks, and this world is long gone in my mythology. This is what started it all for me, and I could not imagine another world. Not really. This world is more real to me, than Earth. Welcome to my head.

I know, that using the #GishTheWorld tag, I should invite people to join my world, and you are of course all welcome, but my world was always dark. The Shadow of Time was always waiting to take it. Those of you who read the books will appreciate the pun with the cat, waiting on the outskirts of the map…

Anyway, thanks to GISH for already inspiring me to be creative. I clearly need a kick sometimes. Hopefully, I’ll pick up my writing again soon too.

I did know, when I closed the Shadow of Time, and had to move on to writing the Legacy Series, that a part of me would always miss this world. I figured I would be able to move on as long as I had Nahorim with me, and for a while I did.

I guess I’ll have to find him again. He always was my light in the dark. I know that is a funny thing to say about a character I have created, but I need him in my life and the Legacy series might have moved too far away from him lately.

I believe the boyfriend calls it ‘evolving as a writer’ and ‘killing your darlings’… Basically, letting Nahorim go.

I tried. I don’t think I can. Sorry, Naim. I’m gonna have to drag you into it again. I need you.

I think I finally realized that. I’m weak, but what’s wrong with that? 😛

P.S, Team Dandelions still have like 3 open spots if anyone *cough*Jen*cough* would be up for joining us! Everyone is welcome! 😀

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New Light

It has been a long time since I have sat down and updated this blog. Lately, I have not felt like writing at all, and especially not about my life, which is usually what happens on this blog.

The truth is, that aside from posting a picture on Instagram or checking twitter for news about Pokemon Go, I have hardly been online at all.

I even, kind of, missed the Mishapocalypse.

Now, for those of you not in the Supernatural fandom, that might mean nothing, but for us Mishaminions, the Mishapocalypse is one of the best days on the internet. April first, everyone is Misha. We change our profile picture, and on twitter and tumblr, we change our names as well, and the confusion is utterly complete when every single notification you get begins with “Misha Collins commented on…”

Adding to that, we post poorly photo shopped pictures and gifs, all of them wearing Misha’s face. And not just any Misha face. It is the same picture, agreed upon world wide. It is one of the most fascinating happenings I have ever witnessed of people all over the world, uniting once a year, to… be Misha.

As silly as it may seem, I met some of my best friends on twitter, while we were all Misha.

And this year I was just… Offline. I will admit, it hurt. But I accidentally made plans with some of my friends, to go to the gym, play pokemon, and spend the evening playing board games. I have no idea how I did not realize that I was going to be offline all day for the Mishapocalypse, when we planned it, but once it hit me, I did not want to change the plans.

You have to be in the fandom to truly understand how amazing it is, and as much as I did not think that my friends would get why I was bailing on them, I guess there was another reason why I did not.

I actually like these guys.

Imagine that. Me, liking people. Enough to miss one of the most important internet things of the whole year. I like spending time with them.

I think I’m going soft. Am I turning normal? Or have I just found a few people, as crazy as me?

Our day took us by the stable. I had actually planned on making the boyfriend take the horses, so we did not have to, but my friends wanted to meet the kiddos.

I am always a bit shy about showing off my horses. I am so used to having crazy horses, and to having to tell people to stay out of the pasture, like, “don’t touch the red one,” “careful with the fat one, he looks nice but he will go through you,” or simply “no eye contact,” and here we are. My gang is the cutest, most embracing horses.

I still warn people to make no sudden moves next to Marble, but the truth is, I don’t even think I need to anymore. Maybe, I shouldn’t. Maybe I am putting people on edge around her, making her more likely to get upset.

What really hit me that day, was Saleem.

He has not been doing good for a long time now. He has been struggling to eat, not every day, but it is a recurring problem, and he is still way too skinny. On top of that, with the changing weather, his hooves has been a nightmare, and we have fought our way through two hoof abscesses lately.

I will admit, looking at this horse, I have asked myself some rather tough questions lately.

If he can’t gain weight, if his teeth are too much of a problem, what do I do then? Do I drive him to Sjælland, and leave him at the hospital, to have his jaw broken and his teeth extracted? Do I drag him through that kind of pain and slow recovery?

Maybe, he would have 10 happy, pain free years, afterwards and it would be worth it. Maybe he would die from the anesthetics during surgery.

Maybe his hooves would be too much of a problem, or something else would get to him, making the painful surgery and slow healing process seem cruel, and selfish from my side.

I know that in life, there are no guarantees. It is completely up to me if I decide that he needs surgery, or if I decide that he doesn’t. It is also up to me, if I decide that the best thing for him might be to not be here anymore.

I am so tired of asking myself these questions. I lived for 15 years with Poseidon, asking myself if today was the day, every single day. I am not sure I have it in me to keep doing it. To keep making it through another day like that.

Saleem is pretty tired of me as well, which is not helping our case. The truth is, most of the time, I don’t see him as a happy horse. Most of the time, he walks away when he sees me.

Saleem has always been closed off. I always felt that I had a hard time connecting with him, and I know, rationally, that I am the one who cleans his wounds, cuts his hoof abscess open, administer antibiotics… I understand why he is tired of me, because it feels like the only times I am interacting with him lately, is when I have to do something mean to him. But maybe that has made me believe that he is unhappier than he is.

Once my friends showed up on the pasture, Apocalipse were first on the scene, of course. Always curious, always ready for new things, he brought Ablaze along too.

They lost interest pretty quickly, both of them. But Saleem lingered. And talked to my friends.

He let them touch his face and everything.

Saleem is a headshaker, touching his face is not something I do a lot, because he never seem to like it. But these guys got to pet him. And he stayed with them for quite a long time.

I guess that I have been so focused on him, losing weight, and having problems that I forgot to see the light in him. The will to live he still, absolutely has. The open and kind heart, that is in no way ready to surrender.

So what, if he blames me for everything that is wrong in his life? So what, if he walks away when I show up? As long as he is happy, when I am not around, I guess I will just have to make more of an effort to spend time with him, where I am not doing something he don’t like. I can handle not being his favorite person in the world, as long as I know that it is me he has a problem with, and not life in general.

Seeing how he interacted with these strangers I brought into his life, I am pretty sure that he IS happy, most of the time and that I have no right to even consider giving up on him.

It turns out, that missing the Mishapocalypse to hang out with my friends might have been the best thing I have done in a long time, because it made me see Saleem in a new light.

Now, I know, that I will continue to wonder about him, and I can’t quite stop me from thinking that he has suffered through a lot already and everything has its limits, but I know too, that if he had been truly sick of this life, if he had been in real pain from his teeth for instance, he would not have showed up to talk to strangers.

That, more than anything, is reliving me of a bit of the guilt I feel when I look at him and think that he is not doing well.

He is doing well enough to not isolate himself, except for from me. Noted. I guess that is something to think about.

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Desolate Heart – Video

I’ve been home alone for quite a lot of days lately. That is kind of new for me, to be just me, the cats and the horses. Usually, I’ve always been living with someone, somehow.

Right now, the boyfriend is in Austria with his work, and it is freezing cold in Denmark, so my usual time killer, Pokemon Go, has been toned down a bit.

As an added complication, I messed up my one hand somehow, effectively preventing me from going to the gym all the time, and landing me on medication, which completely knocked me off my feet. I have been almost unable to get out of bed in the morning since I started on those pills, and they are not making my hand better.

So, with tons of alone time, and unable to do the two things I do the most, I defaulted to being creative. Once upon a time, music and writing was what I did when I was alone. I then started working for a movie company and became a photographer, learning to enjoy framing and telling a story through images.

I will say, with my left hand swollen, I was a bit scared that I could not play my guitar anymore. That has been one of my deepest fears, through all of my life. Losing my left hand. Every time it has been broken in the past, I have been terrified that I could no longer play my guitar. Luckily, the pills I’m taking are also painkillers, so it was not a huge problem.

I wrote Desolate Heart quite some time ago, mostly with Nahorim in mind, as I was changing his story in the Legacy Series, and the lyrics for it was published in Rockstar in 2016.

It’s been a bit of a struggle for me, to make the music fit the lyrics though. It is one of those songs I have kept trying to make happen and I have never felt too happy with it.

But, being alone and with a lot of spare time on my hands, I sat down in my hallway, (the sound is better in an empty space,) and recorded it. I am not even sure why. It just happened. Maybe I wanted to hear it, when I was not playing it. I sometimes do that, if I want to work on something.

But as I watched the recording, I knew that aside from being home alone, I also had access to the Dark Mare computer and the Permiere Pro, and I could not help it. I put together a video for Desolate Heart.

Within a day, I had the footage I wanted. So, yes, keep in mind that everything is shot on a Samsung Galaxy s6 edge, so bear with me on the sound and to some extend, the picture. Desolate Heart is © copyrighted to The Legacy Series, Rockstar, by Veronica Merlin, where the lyrics were first published in 2016.

Thanks to everyone of you who has asked to download it so far. I’m sorry, but I have no clue how to set that up and I will say that if I were to make that happen, I would have to make a better recording. This is a simple, just for fun, video, describing a song I have struggled with for a long time.

I have thought a lot about the images, though. As much as they came naturally to me, when I started shooting for the video, there is a point to every shot. I’m not sure if it comes across, but at least I know what I wanted to say.

The picture is unedited, by the way. No filter or color grade. I am pretty impressed by the quality of a cell phone camera…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. And of course I had to share it here.

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New Year Resolutions

I think I had about two New Year resolutions this year. I normally never have any, but this year there actually were things I wanted to change.

The first one was to maybe spend a little less time at the gym dancing, and more time actually working out. Last year, I got into a weird pattern of going to zumba almost every day, and fitting actual work out around it, which was so not why I joined the gym at all.

I will say, that joining a local dancing group is kind of messing up my “dance less” plans, in some ways, but it has been a lot of fun, meeting these guys and getting challenged in ways this one zumba instructor I’m stalking, don’t challenge me. But aside from joining them, I have actually begun to let go of my obsession with dancing at the gym.

For a long time, I felt that it was too many hours of my days I spend on it, and that it was not exactly giving me the work out I wanted. I am, first and foremost at the gym, to get stronger. To preserve my muscles. To keep my body working. To keep my spine carrying me. It’s not a game for me, or a need to look good and lose weight. I know I lost sight of that for a while, when I started dancing more than working out, and I know that I can’t keep doing that.

For a while, I just made sure to do both then. But that means that I was spending 2-3 hours at the gym every day, and adding to that, some days we would hang out afterwards and talk for hours.

Between that, and the horses, and the boyfriend being away at work so much, I completely stopped writing.

Which would be my second New Year resolution. Start writing again. I am working on no less than three books at the moment, (four if we are counting The Kiss, which I have been writing with Noel Heart for years,) and for me to just quit all of them at the same time, is new. I have never, since I started writing on the Starstone series, 17 years ago, had such a long break.

So while I have managed to dance less at the gym at the moment, I still, have not managed to open my drafts. And that is not entirely true. I do open them once in a while, and read through something, checking facts, stuff like that. Mostly, because while I am not writing, I am still working on the story in my head. But the longer the break I’m taking, the more of the story I forget, and the more I need to read up on it before I can sit down and continue the story again. And I’m just not doing it.

Instead, I play pokemon again. I did that last year, around this time, as well. There is something about the cold, dark winter nights, that just makes me want to walk the lonely roads of the city and the local parks, chasing digital monsters, not having to be a responsible grown up. But if I make it to level 37 before the 10th this month, I’ll have managed 2 million xp in 2 months… That’s kind of okay with me. And I’m so close. I can almost taste it.

I am getting tired of the game again, though. Mostly because it is forcing me to interact with the local players. That is what I hated about it and what made me quit it last year. Twice. I love playing on my own, or with a friend, but having to deal with the drama and the backstabbing, not to mention, having to run into people I have been actively avoiding for decades, is killing the game for me.

I will admit, I would like a MewTwo on my main account, but so far, I have not managed to get an invite. My blue account got an invite instead and while I got to play with some of my friends, we still had to meet up with all the locals who got invited, to take down the MewTwo.

It is the strangest feeling. Most of them know me, and talk to me as if we know each other quite well, and I struggle to remember them. And then, some ghost from my past shows up with her children, and while we clearly recognized each other, none of us even flinched. I don’t think a single person at that x raid realized that we had a history, and how much we were both struggling to smile.

I caught the damn thing on my blue account, and while I should be happy, I went home feeling strangely shaken. I know that I am still hoping to get an invite for my main account, but the prospect of having to go to another x raid, and of running into her again, is making me kind of hope that I don’t.

I could always hope that my friends gets an invite too, and joins me, so I won’t be alone, even if they have no idea what is going on in my head, but the second I feel like I need my friends to be with me, the second I feel like I can’t go alone, is when I am losing interest in the game. It should be fun. It should make me happy. It should not tear up old wounds.

And it’s not. Unless I let it. I know. It’s not the games fault. Sometimes I just think I have too much history on this island. No matter where I go, there is some kind of ghost following me. Even driving to the gym with the x raid today, watching how the fields Janis and I used to ride on when we were kids, were being paved over and replaced by a hospital and parking lots, made me want to turn and go home. Those paths we used to ride down, gone. I could almost see our grey ponies, standing on the edge of the forest, fading into the shadows of what is left of some of the happiest times of our lives. I could almost see her turn her head and smile at me from underneath her helmet.

Sometimes, I want to just leave it all behind and move to another country. Somewhere, I have no history with anyone. Somewhere, no one knows me. Somewhere, the ghosts, living or dead, can’t find me.

I know that I am falling apart at the moment, and that everything seems to get to me in a very negative way, and I know myself well enough to know that I’ll find my way out of this again somehow. I know that blaming zumba, or pokemon, when I don’t do the things I should be doing, is super unfair. In reality,I just don’t want to be in my head at the moment, and anything that can distract me, is pretty perfect.

So, on that note, I believe the local church has been red all day. Time for a change of color. It’s only freezing and dark and snowing. But. They have had it long enough. Team Instinct, (and by that I mean me,) to battle! Luckily, there is like three active players where I live and if I take down the gyms when they have gone to bed, they won’t fight back until I have earned the money I need. Wup wup.

Wayward daughters FTW 😉

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