Ida Løkås

I remember his eyes. They are just like mine. Every time I look in the mirror I see him. I try not to look at my self too much.

I pretend he doesn__ exist, and he does the same with me.

I can tell she__ upset, but I can__ be bothered to say anything. Some days are just like that.

Nothing happens. And by that I mean nothing.

I don__ care what other people think about me. Most people are idiots, and they can think whatever they want.

We look for pretty girls we can say bad things to. No one shows up.

I don__ care too much about talking, but I don__ like being alone.

He__ always complaining about the fucking recession and how the government is working against people like him. He calls himself working class, which I think is a bit ironic since he doesn__ work.

Judging by the photograph it seemed like I hadn__ been there at all. As if it was my camera that had been on holiday, and not me.