Pessimystic

Damn you mind, why did I have to get extreme lack of appetite over the Christmas holiday? I think I've even lost some weight. Cause all of a sudden my favourite hoodie seems two sizes too big. I really know how to complain about everything, don't I? I want to lose weight, but I also want to indulge a little in the end of December.

Today I'm quite a mess. Couldn't sleep at all tonight, so I've been awake for around 26 hours and the last time I ate something was around 6 or 7 last night. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not trying to starve myself, I just don't try to eat either.

I try to listen to my body, somewhat. I look at the time and say to myself "I should eat something" but then I try to figure out if I can go on a little longer without food. And usually I can. I'm just very lazy really. Too much effort to fix food, even just smearing butter on a piece of bread.

And then it's the thing that I don't know what to do while I'm eating. Can't play WoW, draw, write or anything really. I so hate just sitting on my ass and chew on something more or less boring until I stop only because it's too damn boring.

Hah, I bet you could compare me with the starving children in Africa now. That I have a fridge packed with food but I rather go hours and hours without eating because it's boring. But it's always been like that with me. I don't take these things for granted, and I hate being bound to always, every day for the rest of my life eat, sleep, wake up, going to the loo, and so on. Those basic needs. I'm just so fucking tired of doing them, and I wish I didn't have to.

I'm one of those few pessimists who compares eating with cleaning the house. Like: why should I clean the house when it gets dirty the next day anyway? And I'm like: why should I eat when my stomach always becomes empty again? It's like trying to fill a god damn black hole. Argh.. enough complaining for now.

*Title is from a song by Alice Cooper.

Restless

I'm restless. As if I've forgot something but I don't know what it is, and I can't find peace because of it. I think I need to find out what it is on order to be able to fall asleep.

I haven't done much of anything this last week. Only played WoW and scribbled and doodled in my diary. It's like I've almost completely moved in to Azeroth and I prefer to stay there.

The thoughts of him makes it hard to think clear. He's still on my mind every day and some nights. Even when I'm asleep. He haunts me in my dreams, he haunts my mind when I'm awake.

It's so weird, when I was in Stockholm over the day a few weeks ago, I could feel his presence. Like I just knew he was close, even if it was several miles between us, I didn't know. But it was as if the fact that I was closer to him than here on this forsaken island, made a strong impression on me. Almost like I could feel his aura.

Yeah, I believe in auras. I can even see them. If the person is a very strong individual, someone who knows pain and got stronger because of it. Whatever they endured. They don't have to be wise or old, or mysterious. Rather the opposite, but of course all kinds of people. Whether they're jolly or not doesn't have anything to do with it.

Most of those who's auras I have seen later became friends, or I've known them for my whole life. That is my favourite kind of people, and I think I'm drawn to them.

Just siiting here now, trying to figure out what it is I've forgotten. Too tired to focus, awaiting the sedating effects of Imovane. That's it for now.

Lost in the world

I believe I must be in some sort of reversed solipsism, but I don't know if that's the right word for it, or what the right word would be. I heard this saying once, I don't remember who said it or in what context, but here goes: "it's my world and you just happen to live in it". That was to be about solipsism. But immediately I thought the opposite is very much like me: "it's your world and I just happen to live in it".

My belief that I'm actually already dead, just a ghost lingering, creating interactions with remaining relatives and friends, not knowing that I'm dead. Of course that is a paradox, cause how can I know that I'm dead and at the same time not know...?

However, as I said, I'm dead. As a doornail. I'm not really here anymore, I have no place to feel safe in or that I feel I can call a home. I don't have any impact on anyone else's life. They all seem to live their lives and I just linger here. Intangible, lost, forgotten, abandoned. But I abandoned them. I moved out from my parents' house, I moved hundreds of miles away from my friends. I moved out of the world, and the world goes on living and blossoming without me.

That, is my version of reverse solipsism. I live in a lonely world, as instead of having everything revolving around me, I'm trying to revolve around everything but failing miserably. It feels like I would lose contact with the world permanently if I stopped trying to. But I can't revolve around everything, no matter how hard I try. It's like I'm trying to initiate a dance by starting to dance myself, trying to make others go along with me, but I just end up dancing alone all night.

Gifts

I got a TV for Christmas gift, along with an Alice Cooper t-shirt and a bottle of Iron Maiden beer. Very nice gifts, indeed. Yet I somehow thought I'd give myself a few gifts, regarding World of Warcraft. A new flying mount (really, I had no nice ones at all), a character transfer to another realm and appearance change for the same character.

First one ever of my characters to get a sex change. I suppose you could all guess they were female to begin with. All for role play of course. Cause why did I from the beginning decide to create a female character for role play? I can't stand it when people she/her me in real life, so why should I in WoW? Aside from that, I think I have a good thing going with him now, a blood elf shadow priest, which seems to be my new WoW obsession. Blood elves, and shadow specialised priests.

I also had quite some luck in finding nice looking gear, without even trying, I might add. Still not my favourite, Black Velvet Robes, but Robes of Arugal looks a bit alike so it's quite good as well. Better than I could have expected.

I know I haven't been updating a lot as of lately, but I have a good explanation for that, which is I can't write if I don't smoke. And I can't smoke indoors at my parents' place and neither can I bring my computer out on the porch. So most of all I write ends up in my paper diary or a writing pad. Just so you know I'm not dead, or something.

Liars

How pathological liars work:
They will tell you small bits of truth embellished with tall tales. Everything is exaggerated. These types of liars do not need a reason to lie. They do not need a reward in any sense of the word. They just lie like other people breathe air.

Pathological liars do know they are lying most of the time. If you caught them in a lie they would feel no need to apologize. They might tell another lie to cover up or validate the first lie, not caring that you both don't believe it. They are not embarrassed to be caught in lies either. They have the ability to look you in the eye and begin weaving even more fantastic webs.

I found this on http://hubpages.com/hub/am-i-a-pathological-liar-take-the-quiz and it must be the most accurate thing ever. Though I'm not always aware of that I'm lying, cause I'm sometimes lying to myself as well. And I believe in those lies.

I once had a friend who I believe was a pathological liar, though I couldn't stand that person's stories and behaviour for very long so I broke off that friendship. The only friendship I've ever broken off. Though I don't know how much of a friend I was, I mostly only hung out with them out of pity. Out of pity. Because no one else could stand even being in the same room with them, I felt sorry for that person.

At first I just thought: wow, what an interesting life this person has had! but then things started to seem a bit fishy. One story didn't fit with another, some stories where just too strange to be true. When I started to get suspicious I was left with two choices: tell them the truth that I didn't believe one word that came out of their mouth and leave instantly - or become a fucking liar myself and keep staying with them, pretending to be amazed and dazzled by their incredibly embellished stories. I picked the later.

But did I become an every day liar because of that person? No... or I don't know. How can I know? One thing is for sure though: I can't tell my mother about this. I know it's just fuel for the fire keeping another secret, but if I do tell her, she'd never believe anything I say again. Though I think she knows. Cause she's been suspecting my real intentions behind my lame excuses since I became a teenager. Like every damn time I say either "I'm tired" or "I forgot" I see that highly sceptic look on her face. Cause those phrases are lies approximately 95% of the time. Lies entwined with truth.

And how would you who are reading this know what is truth or not in this text? I happen to lie quite a lot in my blog, if you didn't know. But all of it stems from truth, my truth. It's basically truth with little lies here and there, rather than the opposite. Of course it's common to do that, but all the time? I think not.

By the way, this is NOT a diagnosis of any kind. It's merely an observation, a thought or an idea. I don't go so deep into this topic (yes, this is me just scratching the surface).



Soundtrack: Emilie Autumn - Liar

Getting the message through

I feel a bit better now. The dizziness has decreased and so has the cold sweating, but I'm shaking instead and feel very weak. If I could take it more easy than usually, I would. Meaning there isn't much more calmer things to do than doing nothing, which is kinda what I always do.

I've realised that I can't really show emotions, and that has lead me to trouble all through my life. Sure I'm good at explaining what I feel, I'm good with words. But I can't show it. Well, anger is the only exception. I believe that is why things haven't exactly been successful in my processes of seeking psychiatric professional help over the years. Especially in emergency psych-wards. They don't take me seriously, they never have. I get this huge vibe that their attitude is something like "it can't be that bad, you don't look upset".

And that's usually when I resort to serious self harm or suicide attempts out of sheer desperation and hopelessness, thinking no one and nothing can help me. Cause no matter how hard I try, I can't get the message through. It shouldn't have to be that way, I shouldn't have to risk my life in order to get help to survive. My terrible communication skills has lead me give up on ever getting the help I needed, which in my past has lead me to take matters in my own hands. Literally.

Language is so insufficient, when spoken only with words. It's hard to believe someone who looks neutral but talks about how overwhelmed by emotions they are. I wouldn't go as far as to say they think I'm lying, but more as if they think I'm exaggerating. Could it have something to do with my asperger syndrome? It doesn't seem unlikely to me.

This might sound stupid, but I've seriously considered "faking" a reaction to the emotions I feel. Like when I am very sad I'll force myself to cry or snivel. Or if I'm very scared I'll force myself to hyperventilate and just apply whatever appropriate body language to the emotion I'm experiencing. A fake smile when I'm happy might not be such a good idea though. Damn, this makes me feel like a robot or something...

Another stupid idea that sometimes gets to me is that I should stop communicating with words at all. Willingly become mute, that is. I thought of that just after I unwillingly became mute that one day in late June. My thought behind that is: that way I would be forced to communicate with my body language much more, and that would in time make me better at doing so. It's a stupid idea because it would probably do more harm than good.

Wouldn't be able to talk on the phone, have a meaningful conversation with someone face to face, speak up when someone says something mean to me, wouldn't be able to explain myself really. Now that would be quite a strife, if you think about it. I would most likely either crawl in under a rock somewhere and stay there, fall into depression - or become violent. Cause what would you do if someone is mean to you and you can't defend yourself with words? I think I'll skip that idea, but it is tempting somehow...

Bad start on a new day

I feel like shit today. Perhaps you could call it waking up on the wrong side. Cause as soon as I had gotten my clothes on and was about to make myself a sandwich I started shaking, losing blood in my head and got hot flushes. So I went outside, tried to cool myself down a little, but when I got back inside, cold sweating this time, I got really dizzy. I had to literally crawl to my couch to lie down for a little while. I fell asleep there for two hours. Then I tried to get up again, but the same thing happened again.

So I took my cigarettes, a cup of water, some paper tissues and a diet shake to my bedroom. Lied down for a while as I tried to get some nutrition and nicotine, rest and a lot of water. An hour or so later I got back to my computer, but I can just barely keep my head up. It feels a bit like fever but it isn't. I have no idea what's going on.

What I can't control

I've recently figured out that I'm a bit of a control freak. But at the same time I have no control to begin with. I think they are related though, rather than opposing. That because I feel I have no control over anything, I have this insane need to find that control. Cause it scares me, just how out of control my whole life is. That I can't even control what to eat, when to sleep, my self harm addictions, my (in)ability to function in society. I'm trying to reverse it, to gain the control I've never had.

*

I just asked myself: what do I most fear? and the answer I came up with was: being this miserable for the rest of my days. But in that case I don't have anything to fear, right? Fearing something that already is to continue, isn't that rather about enduring and not being willing to accept things as they are? I really have nothing to lose in that sense, cause I don't fear losing something. I fear not gaining something.

*

When I woke up this morning it was from a dream. In the dream my teeth were falling out one at a time because I had not taken care of them for a long time. It was so realistic. Abruptly I awakened and instantly yelled out: "That's it, I'm gonna start brushing my teeth more often!" My dreams are like that now. Super intense and so realistic that they wake me up instantly and as a result I'm either horrified, inspired, disgusted, heavily confused, angry or sad to tears. Usually I'm additionally yelling something out, anything from a simple shriek to a whole conversation with myself. It's a bit disturbing to say the least.

The bridge between my dreams and the awaken world is shattering, blurred. Somehow I'm worried that one day I won't be able to wake up from those nightmares, that they will continue after I wake up, forever. I don't even know if that's possible, but in my world, absolutely anything is possible. I believe in everything, you know? Including literally getting stuck in an eternal nightmare.

Dark thoughts

Watching Criminal Minds still fucks me up. It awakens dark thoughts and feelings inside me that I don't even want to acknowledge. This episode I just recently watched, it's in the second season, was about a kid with murder fantasies, and he said: "in order to save others from dying I have to kill myself" and it just struck something inside me. That a part of me thought I was just like him, a bomb waiting to explode, until one day those fantasies would become real. Though there is this other part of me saying that as long as I hang on to the feeling of not really wanting to commit those crimes, I can keep it in check.

I've had those dark thoughts and fantasies since I was about twelve, but it has been escalating. Increased. Turned to actual plans. Plans I've been perfecting for years. And maybe there is some solace in that I've been at it, just planning and fantasising without doing anything, for years. I'm still smart enough to not wanna risk my whole life for making a fantasy become real. Besides, reality rarely lives up to an ideal, right?

But there is this uncertainty that keeps gnawing inside me, that maybe one day... And also if I keep losing my mind the way I've been doing these last seven months or so, I can never know for sure what that could lead me to in the future. Cause there actually is a psychotic killer inside of me, wanting to live out its fantasies.

The thing is, I really don't know which side of the law I stand on, when it really comes down to it. I admire murderers at the same time as I think the death penalty is a good thing. Perhaps that would be an "easy escape" if I'd one day end up in that situation. The thought "what the fuck is wrong with me?" pops up in my head. Well, what is right?

Procrastinating feelings

I'm always so tired nowadays, like I could just fall asleep at any given moment. Maybe it's still my three months of sleep deprivation and hypnophobia that I'm not entirely recovered from yet. Maybe it's just all the emotional stress that is still going on. I'm not even awake when I'm awake.

It's hard to concentrate on anything. World of warcraft, movies, writing, anything. It takes hours upon getting out of bed for me to wake up somewhat, and then I get so tired again before I know it. Nothing can make even the slightest bit of alert. Not even caffeine or any of the usual or unusual things that I can't think of right now.

People are more annoying than usual in WoW. They keep bothering me with group requests and duel proposals. I was this close to just yell "fuck off" in chat but managed to keep ignoring them instead.

Other than those occasional anger outbursts that don't really burst at all, I feel completely numb today. Just like yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that. Still fantasising about death, self harming, listening to Emilie Autumn and I'm back on normal cigarettes again. I'm not entirely sure why I'm this numb, but it could be that thing that shook me to that shock-like state a month ago. But it's been a month, for crying out loud.

Would it be okay if I say I'm not suicidal, I just have a constant death wish?

It's like I've built a wall around me, and nothing can come through it. I still don't want to feel anything, but I doubt this is a good thing. Well, of course it isn't a good thing, but I don't know what to do about it either. Or if I even want to do something about it. I don't want to be completely numb 24/7, but I don't wanna feel like crap either. And there really isn't a third choice.

I'm putting off going to the grocery store. Just wanna play WoW and watch Criminal Minds. Almost simultaneously. But I have no food left. That is a problem.

New meds

This headache seems to be incurable. Yes, it's still here since yesterday. Taking pain killers is just as pointless as telling it to go away. Well of course it's incurable, I've had it for almost nine years. But you get the point, it's worse now and it's bothering me. Usually it's just there, an even pressure on my every thought. But now it's aching more intensively, constantly, piercing through the bone.

I got a new medicine by the way. Since the Zyprexa I take for my anxiety doesn't work so well anymore (barely at all) my doctor added Abilify to take every day as a supplement to Zyprexa. Apparently, it's a neuroleptic drug. So just like that I got an anti psychotic medicine without any effort what so ever. How about that, eh?

It will probably not have any effect on my ghosts, but still. Cause I will take it for my anxiety, which is an entirely different chapter. Or well, maybe not. Cause my anxiety is that one thing that is actually connected to exactly everything I have to feel shitty about. It's the cause, the pain, the wound that cannot heal. Both my anxiety and my headache are there for this purpose, because of the same thing. Because of everything else.

So what can I do, but medicate the anxiety that is caused by everything else, which I should really be medicating instead? I feel like a weather beaten old house with decaying walls, and all I can do is trying to repaint it. It might look good on the outside, but who the hell would want to live in it? Finally I think I came up with a good metaphor.

Paradox of pain

This headache is starting to get to me. It was bad an hour ago, so I took a Treo. Now it's worse. So much for that... I found a new way to self harm again, which is to sit in uncomfortable positions so to the point that I can just barely walk, right after getting up. I'm fine after a few minutes though. But the thing is, it's more complicated than that. Not just about inflicting pain.

I feel weird watching through all the "Criminal Minds" episodes and feel that I have to curl up in my arm chair. To protect or comfort myself, or something like that. It's a paradox, because the most uncomfortable positions are also the only comfortable ones. Mind over matter: what is comfort for the mind is pain to the body, and what is comfort for the body, is pain to the mind. And my mind always has the last say.

It strikes me that maybe that is what the concept of self harm is all about. The paradox about comfort and pain, that they can be the same. To me it is that way, though I can only speak for myself. And I think that is also why my mind is able to play tricks on me, making me self harm without me noticing it, because I recognise it as comfort. Something good as opposed to bad. I can only see one side of the coin.

Everything is paradoxes and ambivalence in my world, the world as I know it, and it does confuse me sometimes. Because I can only explain a paradox with another. It has come to my knowledge that it's possible it's just my way of looking at things. My perception, and not the truth. I'm dulled by my own mind, as usual.

Apathy

I'm still apathetic it seems. I respond to things with thoughts, or words, but not emotionally. Like "oh, that's terrible" or "how adorable" or "that's annoying" but I don't feel sad, happy, angry or anything. It's like I'm trying to tell myself what to feel. I hardly even complain nowadays. It's all just brief statements. And what's up with the short sentences?

If I do feel something, it's just briefly. A few seconds smile, if I get angry it's over so fast my heartbeats don't even increase. Sadness that never creates tears. It's just snap shots.

Yes, I might be a bit over medicated, but usually I can just barely keep my wild emotions in check even with all those drugs. So this isn't because of them. Unless they just suddenly increased massively in strength all by themselves, which is of course highly unlikely, which is my point.

It's weird being back at my parents' place, even though it's just for the weekend. And I slept through all of yesterday, so it feels like I've been here shorter than I actually have. I keep no circadian rhythm, just wake up and go to bed whenever I feel like it. No pressure. Cause I need to stop worry about things that don't matter.

My sleeping pattern really doesn't, you know. Why? Cause it really shouldn't be such a big deal when I sleep or not or for how long. As long as I do sometimes. It's not like I have a schedule to keep up with or something.

Yet another theory

Coldness. It can really set loose almost any emotion known to man inside me. Fear, hopelessness, eagerness, hatred, comfort, and right now it's pissing me off. Like: get the fuck warm or I'll do something I'll regret! I realise I'm actually talking to myself sometimes, and not only to Anna. Yes, this is an actual realisation. Maybe I've done that all the time but just didn't realise it until now, but it could be baby steps in trying to think for my own a little. Whatever that could be good for.

She is my emotional support and has been for as long as I can remember, or well, before I couldn't handle my thoughts at all, so in a way it was good that she came along. I've never really doubted that it was good she showed up in the first place, I was a terrible mess by that time. But I do think it might have been good if she had left before she became the problem. My post traumatic stress disorder is only masked by her existence.

I found out, a few months ago, that there is a kind of PTSD that causes dissociation and that is one of my many theories about Anna that in some view could be possible. About an imaginary person showing up right after a trauma, as a type of defence mechanism, and it's closely related to dissociative identity disorder. I'm definitely still fucked up over what happened all those years ago, so dissociation or not, PTSD is more than likely.

But a part of me still believes this is an exceptional thing that is a bit out of the ordinary, and can't really fit into just one particular diagnose. A dissociation wouldn't be permanent, as extended, deeply embed and developed as this. While at the same time a hallucination or a delusion wouldn't be so alike my own thoughts, permanent and constant. Cause I'm absolutely certain this is permanent, we will never become one again. It's like a fictional movie thing about split personality with the vast exception that we coexist as two different people. That is where DID doesn't fit in either. This is a mystery that I just can't let go of, okay?

I think maybe listening to Emilie Autumn sparked my thoughts this time, and reading a bit about her on Wikipedia. Thinking that maybe I should buy her book, cause apparently she wrote one, and it seems it could be interesting.

Drugs and priorities

Aw, fuck. WoW shut down for updates and won't be playable until 11:00 pm. It was the only thing I could find that helped me think of something else than all this fucking pain. That's why I play, that's why I play that stupid endless game! I hate you Blizzard.

One good thing worth mentioning though: I don't seem to be hypnophobic anymore. Maybe you already figured out, since I'm obviously back on my old sleeping pattern. My fear of sleeping just disappeared just like that. I gave up. Totally and completely gave up on trying to stay awake and trying to fall asleep. I finally found a way to "let go".

Still over medicating in order to fall asleep though. Lergigan, Mirtazapin, Zyprexa and Imovane combined in large quantities. You're not supposed to take 15 mg of Imovane every night for longer than two weeks, but I just don't give a fuck about those stupid regulations. Just gimme the fucking pills so that I can fall asleep within 30 hours, is that really too much to ask of?

Nowadays I fall asleep when I'm... what was that word again? (Anna says: you don't remember the word you've been over using for months?) ...lethargic. And I get out of bed when I can't fall back to sleep again or wake up from a nightmare. Usually awake for 20-26 hours and sleep/stay in bed for 12-16 hours at a time. I can't fit into a 24 hours circadian rhythm, but nor do I care either. At least I vary sleep with being awake in some sort of acceptable pattern that doesn't make my brain melt. I believe this will be my last post tagged "hypnophobia".

Still wanting antipsychotic medicine, but keep dreaming huh? I'd rather fall apart mentally and die with a masculine body than perking up and die because I hate my body as it is now. Either way I'll die from suicide eventually, but still. That thing about leaving a beautiful corpse behind, perhaps. No it's all about priorities. And these fucked up priorities say something about what I would do to feel complete, body and soul, don't they? That I'd rather die than fuck up my chances on getting that surgery done. Any time anyone asks me if I really want to change my body to match my gender identity, I'll just answer that. I have my parents in mind, especially my mother seem to still have doubts about my certainty. If only she knew...

Revealing the reason

I got so used to feeling good yesterday that today feels so much worse. Maybe this night is worse than my usual days nowadays, or it just might seem worse in comparison to yesterday. I don't even know exactly why I feel like crap, it's like it's got nothing to do with anything. It's all so sudden, and usually it takes a few hours upon waking up before I crash, but today it's been like shit since I opened my eyes. That's not the way it's supposed to be.

How can it hurt like this for no reason? Maybe the reason is so obvious I can't see it. No, I can see it, I just don't want to. Can't look it in the eye and accept it, I refuse to. The reason that's been there all along. I'm cold, crying and not comforted by anything. Dreaming about death and smoking my cigarettes, hoping they are as deadly as the warning label on the pack says they are.

I've started to smoke somtimes while I'm in bed, usually right before I go to sleep while reading, or just as I wake up. Because the danger of doing so is no longer bothering me. In fact, I often catch myself fantasising about falling asleep in a bed of flames. It would be an accident, careless and clumsy me falling asleep while smoking in my bed. Cause I would never set fire to my own bed on purpose, would never kill myself that way. It's merely a fantasy that I have no wish to make come true.

Some days I think I'm depressed. Always tired and sick of the world, half and half suicidal, popping anxioulytic's and self harming like crazy and not really amused by anything. Not even that picture of a cute cat doing whatever cute things. When I don't want to get out of bed just as much as I don't want to go to bed. The nighmares are back, less gruesome but more heart tearing. The days are harder to get through, ever since I found out that thing I won't mention - cause it's probably not even official yet and people who reads this might find out who it is - two weeks ago.

Oh, to hell with it. He's engaged, I saw it on tumblr. How can anything possibly make me feel better?

Unreality

Had this awful dream tonight. I was a Persian man in love with a woman who had been forced to marry him, by her family. I had noticed she was suffocating in our relationship, so I confronted her and told her that I wanted her to leave so that she could be happy. It was the most heartbreaking dream ever, and when I woke up I realised it reflected the feelings I have for my crush. If I had the choice to be with him even if he doesn't feel the same for me - or to never be with him so that he can be happy, what would I do?

I just don't wanna be in reality tonight. Not my twisted mind's reality, and not your reality either. I wanna be in an unreality, some place where it doesn't hurt. Where I don't have to wake up scared or sad and alone.

I was supposed to have laundry today, but my "morning" mood was really terrible so I let the phone calls from the crew go to voice mail and when they banged on my door I basically told them to piss off. I couldn't get my ass off to the grocery store today either, since I ignored all my alarms and stayed in bed until an hour after the store closed.

I have no motivation for anything, just wanna disappear. But I have to pack some stuff tonight for a little trip I'm going off for on Thursday. I'll do that later...

Still air

Today has been a good day. It was so long ago I had one of those I had almost given up every experiencing one again. Well, almost. You know I can be quite a pessimist sometimes. Or mostly. All I've done is playing WoW and scrolling on tumblr since 3:30 this morning. Now I'm farming leather and singing along to Men Without Hats, and will WoW til' I drop. I coined that phrase a while ago, by which I mean that I'll play until I face plant on the keyboard of tiredness.

But yeah, it's been a good day. Not cut or self harmed in any other way, not even had to take any as needed medication. Still can't eat to save my life and smoke like a chimney (more than usually), but hey who cares. Got a little pissed off at the game a few times but otherwise no mood swings. Not much else to say really.

Isn't it sad that when things go bad you can write endlessly about it, but when things are good you can basically only come up with a just few sentences? None of this and none of that, but not much that actually is or was. Maybe it's just me, that my bad days are full of action, while my good days are rather... uneventful. But I don't mind, cause the still air is so much better than the blizzards, although I always hesitative wish for the warm breezes. A part of me believes those will one day come to me. One day...

Half here, half there

The silence scared me as I lied in my bed, trying to get back to sleep. I've never heard such silence before, my breath takes was the only thing I could hear. So I went up at 3:30 in the morning. I like mornings now, cause I don't feel so much during that time. And that's why I didn't like them before, cause I feel like a zombie at dawn. But better a zombie than an emotional chaos of anxiety and sadness I can't handle.

For some reason I've been having nightly dreams about bleaching my hair blonde for a while now. It's not the same dream recurring, but different ones. I wonder what they mean. Probably that I want to change something in my life, trying something new in general.

But waking up wanting to become blonde is a bit weird. Like "Yeah I should totally bleach my hair! Oh, wait... it's gonna be tricky and probably damage my already damaged hair further. Though I kinda like having black hair... why would I want it blonde by the way? Oh yes, I don't. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh, weird dream..."

It's like I'm sort of still half in my dreams even after I wake up, that the bridge over to reality is blurred somehow. They're becoming more vivid, and it's harder to let go after I wake up. Not in a clinging sort of sense, but more like it's hard to tell if I'm still dreaming or not. That's been going on for like a month or so now, maybe longer.

My memory seems to be shorter than a second sometimes today. I'm like "Oh, yes! I'm going to... huh? No, now I reme... huh?" Seriously, I can't even finish half a thought before it's gone again. More confusing than annoying though.

Breaking what's already broken

Fucking cruel world this is. Just saying. Days like this I just wanna move into Azeroth and be "reborn" as a heartless Forsaken fighting for The Horde in World of Warcraft. I envy people who know how to love without ending up breaking their own hearts. I have my best friend in mind, cause she knows how to love and who. I envy that so much.

I don't even know how I manage to do that. Break my own heart. But it's so fragile nowadays, I was still torn up after that thing in 2011, already when I fell for my crush. My obsession, my everything, my one true love. Heartbroken and in love with another at the same time. And now somehow that pain has doubled, as I feel I'm about to get heartbroken again. Or maybe I already am.

How can you break an already broken heart? It's simple really, cause even the broken things can be further broken. Shards can become smaller shards, small shards can become splinter, splinter can be pulverised. It feels like what is left of my heart is only scar tissue, seams that are easily ripped up again and again and everything just seeps right through in either direction.

If I wasn't obsessed before, I sure am now. Cause I can't think of anything else than this thing that tears me to pieces a thousand times a day. That not even cutting, smoking, pain killers, sedatives, sleeping pills, anxiolytics, writing, watching movies, playing WoW, drinking tea or eating chocolate can fix. I'm dying inside and there's nothing I can do about it.

So yeah, sometimes I allow myself to wish that I was heartless or cold hearted. That that would make things easier. But you know what they say, right? That it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Sometimes I doubt that. I've been through so much pain when it comes to love that I'd rather just erase it all from my memory.

How much longer

I've started to escape my reality with sleep. To the point of taking more sedatives when I wake up so that I can sleep some more. I just tipped the scale, didn't I? From extreme sleep deprivation to over sleeping. It all stems from the same problem though: don't wanna sleep, and don't wanna be awake at the same time.

Didn't go to the grocery store today, even though I'm all out of food, or almost. My anxiety or sadness is still deep and I'd rather just sit in here doing nothing, than put on a jacket and go buy some food. On one hand I think that nobody cares about my suffering, but on the other hand I think they all care too much.

This is something I can't do anything about, I only have two options. One being keep bottling it up, keep pressing all these feeling away as far as I possibly can. The other is letting them roam free and possibly destroy me in the process. I suppose I value my life more this time, and I protect it as much as I can. But my mind is sore and my heart is weak. Carrying this is tiring me and I don't know how much further I'll be able to.

Once again I'm falling apart, but this time I'm actually trying not to. Willed enough to keep on fighting, but not strong enough. And I thought self destruction was only something you do by choice.

Losing it

Saw my psychologist's today, and I told her about what has made me feel like shit these last few days. What I still won't mention in this blog, but yeah, it's about my crush as you might have figured out. I told her that I think I'm in some sort of shock, and she agreed that is likely. My heart was beating so fast when I told her, and I just couldn't stop the tears. I guess saying it out loud for the first time was a bit overwhelming. I've never cried in front of someone in her position before.

We discussed it a little, but as usual I only remember some of what was said. That she thought I should wait until I'm ready to let those feelings that I'm bottling up loose, and then allow myself to have them. I said it made me sad, and she talked about mourning. Maybe she implied that it's time to let go of my crush, but I don't wanna give up, not just yet. I'm still waiting for him.

Shortly after I got back home I kinda started to feel like I was losing it again, but didn't resort to any self harm or pill popping. Not that I thought I could do without it, I just didn't want to. So I fell asleep on the sofa instead. Thought sleeping was better than being awake. Don't know if I'll get any more sleep tonight though. I guess it depends.

Escaping

Seems this day is a copy of yesterday. I don't mind though. Could be worse, I mean. Now I'm just sitting here, waiting for Imovane to kick in, after some "casual" cutting. It was almost like a routine thing, I just kept going without really knowing what I was doing. Creating scars. I like that, sounds better in a way. That by destroying something, I'm also creating something. "Destruction can be a form of creation" I remember being a phrase in my favourite movie.

Asked my mother to swing by tomorrow and bring some more of my as needed medication. Zyprexa and Imovane. They're keeping my alive right now, that and of course cutting and smoking cigarettes.To a degree tea, writing and playing WoW works too.

I've become quite fond of the monk class now, got a blood elf up to level 62 as of today and it's fun pommelling mobs with fists and feet for a change. It reminds of karate, but I suppose most of the spells are made up combat techniques. Still fun though, or at least a way of distraction or escapism.

I do a lot of that lately. Escaping my mind. Take pills to numb my further, high on endorphins and low on adrenaline. Now I'm low on anything and it's time to hit the bed.

Carefree

Emotional suicide. The strongest most intimidating feelings I push back and press down with all my strength, and all the other feelings I medicate away. Holding back screams, tears and laughter. I don't want to feel anything. Anything at all. I'm killing my feelings, crave for numbness and apathy, to not have a care in the world. Completely carefree, calm and disconnected.

Such is my goal, but I do realise that won't ever happen. I'm so tired. Tired of living and fighting for my life. Cause I am, you know. If I was to let go... I think I would die. Madness and agony the mind cannot endure, leading to actions with irreversible consequences.

Well, that's it for tonight. Can't keep up any longer or I will most likely face palm on the keyboard. Sleeping pills kicked in a while ago. So, bed time I guess.

Preventing my heart from breaking

Today I've mostly been chain smoking, drinking a lot of tea, consuming chocolate of various kinds. All drugged up on Zyprexa and Sobril, endorphins from numerous self inflicted wounds. Can barely walk or control my muscles and my eyes feel heavy, but sleep is impossible. I'm calmer now though. But it took half my stash of meds to get there.

I haven't felt this numb and empty for as long as I can remember. Maybe I'm in some sort of shock. I can't feel the music, only hear it. I don't get angry, or amused by anything. It's like I've shut down, or a part of me has. But better empty than full of anxiety and sadness, which is what I'm trying to hold back. Maybe holding back a bunch of feelings takes so much energy that no other feelings can emerge in their place. And it leaves me with this empty hole inside of me.

Everything is half-hearted, resistant, hesitant. Maybe I want to be miserable? Maybe I asked for this to happen? I know I thought it. Just so that I could suffer more. Cause this is the only way I know how to feel alive. This week is gonna be a hell to survive.

Broken

I'm so tired. Didn't wanna get out of bed today, but did it anyway. Still haven't broken to pieces yet, still waiting for it to happen. Fighting to drag it out, pushing it away for as long as I can.

Yet again, I'm trying to run away from myself. I know that doesn't work in the long run, but even if just for a few hours, or minutes... I'm fighting this as much as I can, cause I'm dreading what will happen when I can't anymore.

I'm just so fucking sick and tired of my brain, and what it does to me. Feels like it actually wants to kill me. Just wanna isolate myself completely. Not answer any calls, not going online anymore, not inviting anyone. Barricade the door, shut off my computer, shut off my phone. Cause I think being around other people is making it worse. It's people I get mad at, that I feel guilty about, that I miss, long for, fall in love with.

Nothing will solve this, it's just gonna repeat itself again. What am I supposed to learn from all this? That love is death and will eventually kill me? That no matter how hard and real I love someone I will never experience true love? Or that once I give up, completely give up, that is when I will find true love?

It's hard to think clearly. And I keep blocking out certain thoughts, certain words and memories that harms me emotionally. Things I won't allow myself to think about. They're there, in an underlying layer of thoughts, I just keep them from coming up to the surface. To form into words, pictures and reminders, emotional wounds.

Am I damaged beyond repair, or will I somehow come out of this? I know that I will, or most likely to. But the question is bigger than that. I can't allow for this to happen again, or we'll be talking about self fulfilling prophecies again. I'm in too much pain to cry, but I've been crying inside non stop since yesterday. Sometimes my eyes get a little wet, but dry within seconds again. Maybe I'm holding that back too.

Love is death

Once again my feelings are killing me, but I hold them back as much as I can, to stop myself from doing something incredibly stupid. But I know that if this won't make me give up, once and for all, I must really be holding on to life this time. But I don't even know why I hold on. When I don't even think anything good will come out of it. I've fallen in love with misery. Isn't it tragic that such a thing had to happen for me to want to stay alive? Maybe I don't even want to be happy, and that's what makes me a hopeless case. But I'm not a case, I'm a person.

So used to being broken, that the thought of not being broken is so far away I can't even imagine it if I try my best. Why should I even? Imagining a life I can never have is like imagining being someone else. Cause I can never be someone else, it's so pointless to dream. Have I finally learned that now? Or will I keep repeating it for as long as I'm alive? I hope that I will have learned it. I'm so tired of making the same mistakes over and over.

I'm so tired of repeating this mistake I promised not to do again. How could I once think that love would heal me, it's done nothing but hurt me. Love is death, it will be the end of me. I just know it. For I promised myself to never fall in love again, and this is where it has led me to. How can emotions be so dangerous? It's just a feeling. The emotions themselves are probably not so dangerous, but when they lead to total self destruction, they are.

My hopes are slipping away, like sand between my fingers. Desperately I try to hold on, clinging to every grain. They're dissolving, evaporating, and blowing away in the wind. I desperately try not to cry, to not let it devour me. One of my worst fears, but it was so likely to happen, and maybe that was why I feared it so much. Yet it isn't too late, it doesn't have to be the end of me. I've seen this happen before, it can still take another turn. It's not impossible. Yet I can't bear it.

This weight in my heart is just too heavy, but the numbness is keeping me alive. I force this sadness and hopelessness down, shove it down back the way it came from. I won't be able to much longer though. Sooner or later it will break out in full strength, and when it does... I don't know, I don't want to think about it. I'll probably tear the place down, I'll probably scream and cry my heart out and tear myself to pieces. But for now I drink my tea and smoke my cigarettes, I'm doing okay.

Finally a change

I haven't even been up for a whole day, yet I feel beyond lethargic and apathetic. I feel broken, hollow, like I'm just a shivering and aching shell. Since I've started sleeping again I've been feeling worse. A lot worse. I can barely focus at all, feel more stupid and thick headed than usually, I can't eat and I'm shifting between being freezing cold and sweaty warm all the time.

Sure these nutrition drinks are a good thing and all, but there's a hole in my stomach that hurts when I'm hungry, eating and full. I'm tired, dizzy, nauseous and I just wanna disappear. But I have no wish to sleep so I don't sleep for as long as I used to. No 30 hours at a time anymore, now it's about 10, which is better I suppose. But I have a feeling it's gonna take time before I get better again.

Sleep deprivation and a messed up circadian rhythm can really fuck you up. Three months and I've reached my breaking point. Luckily, I'm apathetic enough to forget about my hypnophobia somehow. Cause I just do and fuck the rest. Tired and can't stay awake? I just won't then. Scared of sleeping, sure as hell, but I've got bigger monsters to fear.

Keep my head on

This will be one of those cryptic entries, I think. Cause I don't know if you'll be able to figure out what I'm writing about, or if it remains a what the fuck sort of thing. You tell me, I'm just the writer.

I just got this messed up thought in my head. How would my crush look like dead? No matter what would be the cause of death, I wonder what he would look like. Why do I wanna imagine him being dead? That's absurd! Oh, wait... just remembered that isn't such a weird thought for me. Never mind. I think I'll keep that reason to myself, or at least I won't spell it out, in case you've figured it out I mean. Cause some taboos are meant to be taboo.

Though they're just thoughts and fantasies really, I would never actually want him dead of course. That would be terrible, beyond terrible, the world would stop spinning, or it fucking should. This is me writing about something I don't think I'm actually prepared to or think that I should write about. One of those things I'd rather lock up in a little black box and throw away the key. And then throw away the box. But of course I can't throw away my feelings, no matter how much I want to.

Even I don't parade everything I have, and this is one of the things I really don't want to admit to having. I might "joke" about it at a party, or discreetly discuss it on an internet forum from the darkest, most secret society pit of the world wide web where I'm super anonymous.

Though I think it's rather rare. Well, I've seen a few on Flashback, but I can't be sure how serious they were and I didn't interact. People don't understand it, heck even I can't bloody figure out why I'm wired that way. Though I would never go through with actually doing it in reality, or at least that's very unlikely due to it being illegal and stuff. What is it with me so damn morally corrupt?! Anyways, it's something that's been joked about a lot, but you rarely see someone admitting to actually having that fetish. You just don't. If you wanna keep your head on, that is.

Make up my mind

This ambivalence drives me crazy. On one hand I really do want to go to sleep, I pine for it, miss it. On the other hand I want to keep staying up, cause what fun is sleeping anyways? I'm equally torn between those two and I can't make a decision. I just can't. I've tried for three hours to make up my damn mind, but it seems impossible.

This 100 hours thing is crazy, and I keep screwing it up all the damn time. Pushing myself to the breaking point and then getting angry with myself for not being able to push it further. Idiotically comparing myself to the last world record breaker who stayed up for 18 days and feeling like a failure for not even being able to go through 4 days. Something is wrong in this picture.

I don't know what to do with myself. It's like when you don't know where to put your hands in certain stressful or nervous situations. You keep trying different positions: across your chest, in your pockets, straight down along your sides, holding something, anything, but nothing feels right. I feel like that now, but with my whole body and mind.

Resting places

So I went down for a little stroll to the grocery store today, and I was so tired I almost fell asleep while walking. But then I sat down on a bench to have a cigarette and I nodded off constantly, in minus degrees. If I didn't have my irrational fear of sleep and focused on that cigarette, I could easily have fallen asleep right then and there.

Oh damn, I think I fell asleep on the floor. Woke up just a few hours later, so I'm just gonna count this as a nap. Naps are okay, as long as they are under 3 hours long. Especially since I wasn't even aware of what I was doing prior to falling asleep. A dream not yet dreamt made me believe that I had some important mission to do and needed to reach a relaxed state in order to do so. Then I actually dreamt that I went through with that absurd mission. Or was it even a dream? I was pretty gone on my rug with just a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

Today, it seems I have discovered that by this point, I could fall asleep just about anywhere and anytime. Not at all dangerous... Just keep in doors away from flammable objects then. And hope I won't fall asleep while smoking somewhere. Would be such a drag if I torched the place and myself in it.

Stand up for yourself, damn it

My mood swings are back, and rather severely. Fuck. Today I've been shifting between being furious, sad and hysterically laughing at everything. And then back and forth between those faster than I can comprehend. Why do I have to be such an emotional chaos, even when drugged up on mood stabilisers?! Yeah, sleep deprivation isn't dangerous at all... it just makes me a super borderline-depressive-schizophrenic-fucked-up mess. And intensifies it. Loads.

If I didn't hate my brain before, I sure as hell do now. Excuse my while I go off and OD on my meds... nah, just kidding, but the urge is there.

Tried to speak my opinion about feminism in a debate/conversation with an acquaintance on Facebook. My god, I've been awake for 52 hours and I'm lethargic and wired at the same time. I rarely, no I think I've never expressed my true opinion about feminism before. Afraid to mess things up considering almost all of my friends have so solid opinions about the issue and I don't agree with them. Me? Afraid to speak my mind? Apparently, but I don't want to do that anymore. Even though it's hard being tackled down by my friends, I shouldn't be afraid to open up to them.

I think that the concept of feminism is faulty and I dislike that people follow it so blindly. I think that I only have one friend who realises that the concept is faulty and luckily that is my crush. "Luckily" because his opinion is the most important to me since I fell for him. Though I don't know fully what he thinks about the issue at large, I might be wrong about him agreeing with me, cause I really don't know to be honest. (The person I mainly had this debate with is by the way a mutual friend to my crush, which means he can read the dispute and my opinions if he wants to). 

I only know that his opinion isn't a blind slavery to a political issue that everyone seem to be expected to follow blindly without questioning it. What the fuck is wrong with people? Politics are meant to be opinionated and questioned. That is how we evolve and change this fucked up society!

Who I was supposed to be

I hate being so dependent. On things, people, money, schedules, society, anything. While most of those things I can't just break the connection with (though I've tried), some of them I've on and off been believing I could break off with. Like medicine, for example. Why should I not be able to live without that? I'm not terminally ill, I can't die from some unspecified, undiagnosed mental illness, and I'm handicapped either way. What if it would be better? What if I could think clearer, crawl out of my shell?

And people. Everyone is more or less dependent on other people; your boss to give you pay checks, your landlord to not kick you out of your apartment, your dentist or doctor, and even your friends and family to be there for you. But I'm a little bit more dependent than the average joe. Definitely more than I would like to be. That's where my "running away" -thoughts come in, when I think I should just get away from everyone and try to live completely on my own for a little while. Because sometimes it just gets too much.

I just don't want to be so dependent on others taking care of me. That I need to rely on strangers from a special service residence to help me wash my clothes cause I can't manage it on my own. I suppose that really bugs me.

Ever since I was a kid I've always wanted to be able to take care of myself, live on my own terms, drive my own business company, get a driver's licence and go wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. It never turned out that way, and a part of me just won't accept it.

Still dreaming of that perfect house close to a town, have my own car (a Jeep would be nice) and a freelance job or no fucking job at all, writing and painting all days. Being happy, pill free, living completely alone and not having to as much as talk to a doctor too often to be able to consider myself healthy. Of course I would have a romantic partner living with me as well though, in a good but not perfect relationship where we grow together as people and sometimes bicker over trivialities.

It would have been an almost realistic dream if I hadn't been a mentally handicapped lunatic. Of course I don't hate myself for being a weirdo, sometimes that can be a real asset, and it does make me kinda interesting. But it costs me my freedom. That, in that dream, that is who I was supposed to be. The eccentric, philosophical artist with a little crazy ideas of a good life, independent and possible to live with.

But something deprived me of that possibility, that life. That freedom and independency that I so much crave. I feel constantly trapped in my own body, in my own mind. And there's no way out. I will most likely just continue to deteriorate and even if I don't end up taking my life, I doubt that I will live to 80. Perhaps to 40, or 50 if I'm "lucky" considering smoking shortens one's life span by 10 years, severe mental illness such as Schizophrenia shortens it by 20 years, and my other bad habits will probably also shorten it even more. Maybe it's not so far off thinking I might not even live to 30...

But it is not living a long life that I want, cause what good is a long life if you suffer? I'd rather have a short life. A short and miserable life or a short and decent life are both better than a long and insufferable life. Of course some things can get better, and I do hope that I'll be able to turn it all around to a brighter path, but deep down I know that my chances of making that happen are very slim.

So I don't really hate myself. I just hate my life and what I've become. How it all turned out, and what it's leading to. I see and hear about my friends getting permanent jobs, finishing their studies, talking about pay checks, moving to their own apartments, getting pets, keeping steady relationships for years, getting engaged, getting married, having children.

And I'm just withering away. Still dependent on my parents, can't live entirely on my own or with anyone, probably wouldn't be able to hold a job for more than five minutes, can't even study as of now, wouldn't be able to care for a pet, I've been single for two years and I'll probably never be able to have a child.

I try to tell myself that I'm still young, and most of my friends who have gotten that far in life are older than me. And who knows, maybe things will be different in five or ten years? But I don't believe it. The problem is that I don't believe in it because it's so damn unlikely.

*

Sorry for the super long entry. I just go on and on on the same topics. When I try to finish it off I just think of more to add. I'm hopeless in that area.

Hate and acceptance

I realise that I hate more people than I thought. People that have in one way or another wronged me. Some of which I still consider friends. Can one hate a friend? Well, I can hate a person but still like some of their qualities. Enough to keep a distance and always keep my guard up, but still being able to laugh at their jokes and agree with them with some of their opinions. Some of them I just pretend to friends with though. Have them added on Facebook so that I can keep up with what's going on in their lives, and take joy out of their misery. All the while being nice and friendly to them, pretending that I care and like when things go well for them. At the same time as I in my mind hope they fuck up or get hurt by someone else.

I don't really know why I keep in touch with these people, maybe I just am that piteous. Most of the time I don't realise just what happened until some time after. Or well, generally quite long time afterwards, to be honest. When that question someone pushed me with to do something I rather didn't do, repeatedly - and repeatedly I caved in - was more of a demand when I come to think of it. Or when a person showed affection and shunned me for years knowing I was interested, that person was more specifically using me when I come to think of it.

I'm listening to Aesthetic Perfection's song "Schadenfreude", which means gloat in German, but apparently it's an English word as well (obviously a loanword). The chorus is just the best:  

Don't need to be the one who does it you 
Don't need to twist the knife or push it through
Just want to see that you're in misery too
Just like me inside

I can be a bit stupid when it comes to meeting people that will later hurt me in some way or another. I have always had this attitude that I think I'm whining over trivialities in situations I really should have just ran for my life. It's hard to identify a problem like that, and knowing whether or not it was just a mishap I should get over or something worse, and knowing if it really hurt me. That's the thing about being a wreck already to begin with: sometimes I don't even notice when someone has caused me to feel even worse.

I do know that I'm very careless when it comes to relationships, whether friends or lovers. Give my heart to some asshole who hurts me and then I do it allover again with someone else. Maybe I just can't tell the difference between good and bad people, just because I don't believe there are people of either kind. That if a kind and caring person does something questionable I just think it's human to do so and simply accept it. But I know that I accept too much, and can only hope that some day maybe I will learn when something is not acceptable before I let them break me.

Keep trying

Fuck it, I have to start over again. How damn hard can it be? I don't understand. Over coming tiredness shouldn't be that fucking hard. Sure, caffeine had no effect, and neither did sugar this morning right before I crashed. But I could have taken a walk or something. At that point I had been awake around 70 hours and had started slapping my face to the point of it aching, blushing red. But it only helped for a few seconds each time. My last resort is usually inflicting pain, without creating wounds, cause wounds release endorphins which make me relaxed. I want to achieve the opposite effect, I want adrenaline. It's been tricky trying to find out what works.

I'm obsessed with this shit, and especially now. I have less than a week to get this done. I want my hundred hours before I stop trying to be awake around the clock and start trying to get a rhythm including sleep again. My next meeting with my psychologist is on Friday, and by then I must be able to say that I have tried and practised that as I said I would do last Friday. I can't screw this up again.

This time, I've calculated to which time and date I will be finished. Until 2 o'clock at night between Wednesday and Thursday I will have to keep these tired eyes of mine open. So I will only have one day and one night to practice that circadian rhythm, as long as I don't fail again, and I won't fail this time. It's stupidly little time left before the meeting, and I will probably have to lie if I want my shrink to keep believing that I actually want to get things normalised again. Cause I really do want that, it's just that I think I won't be able to let go and give my best unless I've reached my crazy achievement first. Maybe it wouldn't be so stupid to tell my shrink that though. Maybe it's irrational that I have this belief, but I think that maybe she would understand why I have it.

I know myself too damn well, and that gut feeling is most likely correct. That I would have that gnawing feeling that I won't be able to give my best to get back to normal again if I feel like a failure for not having reached those 100 hours of sleep deprivation. Maybe it's not so stupid after all: that is a high number of hours, and it would be difficult to break such a record in the future, so it's possible I won't try to break it later on. I believe it will help me to put this behind me once and for all.

Green fingers

I'm cold, but not on the outside. Cause it's 22 degrees in here and I'm wearing more fabric than an astronaut in outer space would wear. I'm trying to heat up a coldness that lies beyond skin and flesh, reaches deeper than internal organs, blood and bones. Somewhere in my mind I am being told that I'm not warm enough no matter what I do.

My ivy is just getting bigger and greener every day it seems. I gave it a name and I'm talking it to it as if the plant was a pet. "Muriz", and no it has no particular gender. It is a plant after all. I even stroke its leaves and carefully hug it sometimes. I think maybe my love and care somehow affects it, cause I've never seen ivy's grow and shine like this one before, with leaves bigger than my palms. I've only had it a few months and it's at least twice as big now, and every single leaf is fresh and vividly green.

It doesn't seem to be at all bothered by the cigarette smoke either, which I find rather remarkable, since it can get pretty damn smoky in here sometimes and it almost looks like I'm suddenly in Silent Hill: foggy with ash swirling around.

I suppose me not being able to have pets on my own kinda sparked an interest in plants, as I feel comfort knowing I'm not the only thing alive in this solitude.

So at least I have some form of company, if you could call it that. And I don't feel so alone when I just turn around from the computer and talk to my green, rather quiet room mate. Now I do realise the level of craziness to this, but it almost kinda feels like we're actually communicating in a way. Like the way Muriz thrives is like a response to my awkward cuddling with it (no, not that awkward!)

Whilst I was reading and browsing information about Schizophrenia before, I remember finding out that even that is a trait. Talking to one's plants. Now I'm sure they don't mean "here you go, I have some fresh water for you" kinda talk, but believe me when I say my chatting is vastly more complicated than that. I vary from expressing my admiration of its beauty to telling it jokes and talking to it about how my day has been.

No, I've never doubted that I'm utterly insane, but as of lately it's been almost creeping me out just how much that terrible illness fits me. Always finding out that I experience yet another symptom, finding connections from or to other things in my past or present, and seeing as I more and more fall into weird beliefs and losing my grip on reality. It's like the puzzle of my life is finally starting to connect.

Living with it

Everything is so frustrating in my life now. Like everything is just a game and nothing ever goes my way. I stop for a second and ask myself: is it even worth fighting for? It feels like I know everything will keep on falling apart and that will lead me to my final suicide attempt. But right now, as far as I know, I hope that will happen as far away in the future as possible.

If I can learn to enjoy, truly enjoy suffering and misery, maybe I actually can enjoy this life. My dark, twisted fairytale. My dystopian paradise. Don't just learn how to survive in constant pain, don't just learn how to live with it and deal with it, learn how to like it. To smile when my head hurts so much I can't even get out of bed, giggle when society takes away my rights as the human being I try to be, laugh when my heart breaks into pieces. Embrace the darkness.

I guess I'm just having one of those days, huh? Is it worth fighting for? I don't know, I don't care, I'll be here until the end whether I fight or not, won't I? That long last end that will be the light at the end of the tunnel. At least I have something to look forward to. And I have been looking forward to it since I was six years old, when I still pinched myself in the arm to try to wake up from this nightmare. But I know now that even nightmares can be real.

Really, what's up with me today!? Seem to be a little out of shape, mentally. Oh, by the way, I've made a decision regarding my sleep-shit: this time I will reach one hundred hours of total sleep deprivation and no more or less. After that there will be no more of this. I've already passed fifty hours, less than half left!

Fuck this insane game, fuck self harm and fuck hypnophobia. I need a vacation from this chaos. I am in control of my life and particularly my body. I'm breaking the habit, or at least I'm gonna try. Maybe the imbeciles at the psych-ward can help me if all else fails. I'm just so tired of this, wanting nothing but least of all this.

And that sums up everything, doesn't it? I want nothing, but least of all I want what is tearing me apart at the moment. Existing is making me cranky today. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday and food sickens me. Maybe I'll go buy some more nutrition shakes, at least that's something.

Hopes and hopelessness

I had a meeting with my psychiatrist today, and she said she'd call the hospital in Huddinge to try and find out what's going on over there. Cause I haven't heard as much as a whisper since I was there in August and I've been climbing on the walls for quite a while now. The worst is not the waiting, it's not knowing how long I should be waiting for. It's not certain she'll reach the right person over the phone, or if they would tell her anything, or if they even have anything to tell her. Worth a try though.

It's like I'm playing "catch me if you can" with sleep itself. Making the frightening chase into a chaotic, potentially dangerous, self destructive game. A competition of hours, another obsession, a fucking achievement.

Though, it lets me think of something else, focus my mind off my main obsession for a little while. My crush. Cause thinking of him is getting more and more painful each passing day. Knowing that he's so far away both literally and figuratively makes it harder and harder to cope, as I'm slowly realising how impossible my dreams are. I knew this would happen sooner or later, I just wished it could have been later.

This sadness is growing bigger inside me. A little more today than it was yesterday, and it was more yesterday than the day before that. It's a heavy, calm sadness like a soft dark veil swept over my face. Not the brutal, numbing sadness that brings endless amounts of tears and low self esteem. Though I do cry quite a lot, but only when provoked and often while watching a movie or reading something sad. Like twenty times a day... I also isolate more, cause I don't want to face the world outside.

I look at the world with more gloomy eyes, a bitter frown at the colours of the nature around the corner. I smile a fake smile when someone points out a cute animal before my eyes, as dark thoughts ravage my head and I couldn't care less about the creature. I have to bite my tongue to not let out all of my negative thoughts and pessimistic views on my so called future.

Cause I need for people to know that I still keep my hopes up, it's just that I can't express them any longer. For what I hope for and what I believe will happen isn't the same thing.

Addicted to writing

I don't know if something is particularly wrong with my view on life in general, but whenever I come across someone saying that "life is too short" I just wanna tell them that life is too damn long! Probably my hint of a depression talking again, but still. What is this to cling to? What is it people in general like about life and living? I'm just doing it cause I might as well, while I'm here, you know. It's always been like that, at my best. At my worst I'm suicidal and just wanna snuff it out as soon as possible.

Oh well, here I am complaining about the brimstone and fires of hell again. Or is this me trying to see the light in the dark? Cause I say that I might as well stick around, I mean. It's hard to know sometimes, when it's black and white at the same time. They're kinda hard to separate sometimes. It's probably ambivalence again, that I want to live at the same time as I don't. Wanna find that third option again. Cause most of the time there really isn't a third option. You either live or die, eat or starve, sleep or awake, giving up or giving in. There's no in between, just this or that, take your pick.

I wish there was something else. Something more, or less of it. Feels like I'm missing something. Did I misplace a thought somewhere? I think I lost it, forgot it and put it somewhere, and now I can't find it.

This music is fucking me up. "How to disappear completely" by Radiohead. It's so sad and brings out emotions I didn't think I had. Like standing on a deserted beach in a cold night, between summer and autumn. The water is so still, everything is dead around you. The cold wind pulls your hair, you're shivering and all alone with a broken heart. Like the wind is taking all your dreams and hopes with it, and you're empty, lost and cold.

I feel too much for one human being. Why can't Anna do her job and help me carry some of this shit? She's supposed to be my own personal, emotional guardian and care taker. It's a little heavy here, help me carry a little? I mean we are two people sharing this body and mind, so why should I have to feel so much when she doesn't? I have no idea how this works, since I don't know anyone else in this position, but is that really too much to ask of?

What good does all this writing do? It such a waste and I think it makes me feel even worse. "Good therapy to write about your feelings" says the cheerful people who expect me to be wired like everyone else. But I end up comparing my anxiety to the whole world, and my writing has turned into an obsessive addiction. You see this? All this text I publish? You should see my desktop with eight open note pad documents filled with this nonsense cause I can't stop writing. I can literally go on for hours and hours just writing about everything that comes to my mind. Then maybe you can grasp just how cluttered my mind is. I can't write it all down, my fingers don't move that fast across the keyboard. I can't even shower without getting frustrated over not being able to write down my thoughts.

How is it even possible to get addicted to writing? Beats me. I seem to be able to get addicted to basically anything in the world. things that aren't addictive, things that most people just do without putting much thought into it. Now see, there is a huge fucking problem! Others don't put much thought into it. I do. I put so damn much thought into fucking everything and more. I turn it inside out and upside down, analyse every little detail, dissect it and x-ray it until it resembles nothing at all. Of course I can get addicted to writing!

All my life I've been obsessed with communication. With my family, friends, boyfriends, myself, Anna, voices, teachers, strangers, care takers, doctors, shrinks and so on. What better way to communicate than writing, in today's society?

I'd better stop now, while I can... By the way, I've had 15 cups of tea and 45 cigarettes today, or well, from 9:30 Wednesday morning

Moments of clarity

My heart is hurting, it feels like my heart hurts. And I don't even know why, it's just painful. Yeah, maybe I do know why, but it's easier to escape it, easier to just run away from it. But I try not to. Just stay here, indulge in the pain and let it hurt me. Let it tear me to pieces.

I don't know why I think I should stay in the emotion, but maybe a part of me wants me to suffer. Be torn to pieces over and over until there won't be any excuses left. No reasons to pretend, no lies left to cover it up. The so very real, bleeding truth revealing. Taking over everything. Making true everything that I believe in, showing the real fucked me that I've been trying to humanise. For I am not human and I will never be. My false hopes of just being totally damaged falls apart and I realise once again that this is not only what I've become, but what I've always been.

Sure I have the typical traits of a human being, but just look at me. There are too many contradictions and impossibilities to look past. Things about me that just shouldn't be possible, yet they are. I believe in what I am in my days of clarity, and I accept that I'm different beyond reason, cause I know why I am here. I have discovered the answer to one of the most mysterious questions humans have asked themselves since the dawn of time. I know why I am here, my purpose, the meaning of my life.

But it brings me no comfort, no happiness or joy. I believe that I hold all the answers to all the questions I carry, but answers alone has never brought me anything. A great discovery is only great in the moment you discover it. Then you sit there and ask yourself "And? So what, what does it even matter? How does this change anything?"

For the path you are meant to follow is the path you are already walking.

The question about the meaning of life is thrilling, mysterious and alluring. But the answer is simple, stupid and disappointing. It's like the question of what makes the world so beautiful and harmonic? And the answer is just a bunch of numbers. Or how do you learn to live with anxiety, depression, phobias, sleep disorders and the like? Simply let go. The answer is expected to be astonishing, thought provoking and marvellous. And all there is, is something you shrug at. A disappointment.

I ask myself "was it even worth it?" all those years of searching for my purpose. No... or maybe it was, I don't know. But it certainly was a disappointment. Much like most people I expected something amazing, something that would change my life or at least my view on life. But if I know so much, what really is my purpose? To know more. What kind of idea of a joke is that!? The message is simply that I can never get enough knowledge and understanding, and I'm here to fill in the gaps. I hate and can't stand humans, yet I'm here to understand them. To live among them and learn as much as I can about them.

Cause what if you don't like what the great beyond has set out for you? What if you don't want to walk that path, and there's no way to escape it? It's the fucking meaning of your life, it is why you are here. Would you really want to know? Would you...?

Cause I hate my fucking purpose.

Accustomed to the dark

I think I'm starting to tackle my caffeine habit, as of drinking tea instead of coffee and taking less of them pills. A lot of tea though. Don't know how many cups a day, but I've been awake for two and a half hours now and had 3 already. Small cups, but still. Cause if I fill up a big cup, I end up forgetting it halfway through and leaving it cold, throwing away what is left. It's also a good way to keep warm. It's not cold in here, but I still feel cold.

I took a day off again and slept for 26 hours, so I missed yesterday. Going for those 100 hours this time instead. The crew woke me up at half past nine and asked me if I wanted to get up. I told them the truth, that I never want to get out of bed and I never want to go to bed. I think that is why I do this, staying awake for days and days in a row, and then sleeping for a whole day or more. I don't want to sleep, just as much as I don't want to be awake.

I feel depressed, but I know that I'm not clinically depressed. If I was I wouldn't sit her and write. I would still be in bed, not eating, not caring about anything. I wouldn't laugh or smile or appreciate a cup of tea. Besides, antidepressants don't work on me, and I only take Mirtazapin for its sedative effects. I've tried Sertralin (Zoloft), Fluoxetin, Venlafaxin, Efexor and Cymbalta. That is basically everything except for Anafranil and those really old ones.

But yeah, I do feel depressed. In the sense that I don't want to wake up or go to bed, that I shut myself out from the world, have lack of inspiration for doing anything creative. I miss my creativity above all else. I can put up with this lack of a circadian rhythm (there really isn't a rhythm, only a chaotic and completely out of control sleeping pattern), but not being able to draw, sew or write anything else than diary and blog entries really bugs me.

I feel lifeless. Just withering away. Am I giving up on life? Just letting misery swallow me whole. Just eating to stop my stomach from growling, sleeping cause I finally give up on trying to stay awake, getting out of bed cause I finally give up on trying to sleep, sitting by my computer all days and nights long because I have no will to do anything real. Escaping life by doing nothing, I'm neither dead or alive. Just surviving, breathing, complaining, dreaming. I've lost my will to live, but I have no will to die.

But I still cling to life, cause deep down I do want to live. I just don't know how. Have no energy to even give it a try. Afraid of failure, of being hurt and becoming even more miserable on the way. I'm comfortable in this mess, grown accustomed to the darkness, yet I'm not satisfied with it. I want so much more, but tired of fighting. Just waiting for my motivation to arise again. Just waiting.

Falling for you is like falling to pieces

I feel like shit, for various private reasons. I would like to write about it, the specific reason, but I can't take the risk. So I write about how shitty I feel instead. But isn't that just the typical me? Constantly ventilating, because I don't really want anyone's opinions, just want people to know. But isn't that hypocritical in a way? I dunno. Sometimes I think it doesn't matter if I write it here or in my paper diary.

I've become more careful with what I choose to make public, maybe you've noticed. That there are more secrets now. Mostly cause I don't want anyone to find out who it is that I'm in love with. It sort of goes against my morals to tell everyone except for the person it actually concerns. And I can't tell him, cause that would spoil everything. Or it could, I can't know for sure of course.

I shouldn't give up, should keep on waiting, it's not too late yet, it's not... but it feels that way. My god, has it already been this long? Six months ago I was nervous about congratulating him on his birthday, and now... Well, time passes, but I didn't think I'd still be sitting here waiting, after all this time. Still clinging to dying hopes, patching up cracking dreams, repeating the same wishes, stepping on the same "K-wells" but it's fading away. I can feel it fading away. He's getting further out of reach, even more unavailable, and my days of hopelessness are becoming more and more frequent.

I cry almost every day. Cry and cut and cry. Write, but I have no words to write. It's just this. Meaningless scribbles that's been typed over and over and it never means anything. I've lost the spark in my words, lost the belief that they actually mean something. What the hell kind of writer am I then? If I don't even believe in my own words?

Everything seem to revolve around him now. Depending on what he writes or says or does is so strongly affecting my mood, my thoughts, my deeds, my life. It's like I can't exist without him. Yet he's not even mine. Not even breathing the same air, speaking to me, hearing me, seeing me. He's not actually here. It feels like I'm depending on a ghost, I'm on life support and his ghost is keeping me alive.

I seriously don't know what would happen the day I lose the grip of my dreams, hopes and wishes about him. I think I would disintegrate. That I will once again relive all that agony, insufferable inner pain of being heartbroken. I think it will happen soon. Sooner than I can afford. Way too soon. Within months, perhaps only weeks. It's already been six months, I realise. For six months I've been pining for him. Maybe longer, but my diaries don't contain any useful information.

I tried to deny my feelings for him for some time, and it wasn't until late July that I let myself fall for him. But I was already in love, already in June, but perhaps even earlier. Yup, found a picture of him on my computer saved there the 31st of May. So then it's seven months. For seven months I've been pining for him.

For all this time... I'm surprised I didn't reach this state sooner. Total devotion. It stings inside me, for I hate falling in love. I truly, most utterly hate being in love.

Why can't I feel love like everyone else does? Fall for someone who falls for you, not lose yourself completely over an acquaintance you hardly even know, not wanting to kill yourself because you don't stand a chance with the person you're so painfully in love with, for someone who barely even knows your name.

I don't want to feel love like this. It's not right, it's wrong in so many places I don't know where to begin. If this pushes me over the edge, and I start planning my own death again, maybe I'll tell him someday. Tell him that I love him so damn much, no words can describe it.

In my mind I have told him a million times, in different words every time. But it's not gonna be the same in reality. No matter how many ways I can think of saying it, reality always turns out differently. Someone once told me that "if you can imagine something, it is more likely to actually happen". I hope that is true, cause I've already imagined up a whole relationship with him.

The happiness I've never known

Why was I never happy, not even in my early childhood? Of all the things I envy from other people, I most of all envy that no matter how sad or happy they are now, they were happy once before. What do I know of happiness? I've never felt it, never been able to reach out and touch it with my finger tips, never even seen it in the distance. I've heard others talk about it, seen other experience it, showing their happiness to the world.

Now I'm not talking about that fairy tale sort of happiness, I'm talking about the every day kind of happiness. Getting up in the morning and not wanting to just stay in the bed forever every day of your life. Having dinner with your loved ones without thinking about your past or future suicide attempts. Going for a night out with your best friends without five minutes later sneaking in to the bathroom to cut yourself. Being able to stay in a moment of happiness, it might last for hours or just a few minutes, without constantly feeling the darkness hanging over you. Cause I wonder what that is like.

Sometimes I dream, fantasise about what a happy life could be like. A normal life with a tolerable amount of anxiety. But the thing is, I don't fit into that picture. I end up fantasising about someone else's life.

The thing is, not a day goes by without me thinking about suicide. Not just about doing it, and rarely any actual plans. Most it's just vague things. Like pictures flashing by, and I don't even know if it's me in those pictures. I make associations to suicide from movies and tv-show episodes that really aren't depicting suicide. For example, some character might talk about being thirsty, and I instantly start thinking about what killing yourself by drowning could be like. Or I could just be smoking a cigarette, one of those 40 something a day, and wonder if I could kill myself just by smoking in my bed.

The thought creeps in at any given moment, several times a day, hardly with me knowing it before hand. Anything, absolutely anything can make me start thinking about it. I'm trying to figure out when this started. But I think that it's always been this way, just more often the older I've gotten. I think it increased after my first suicide attempt, in January 2005. The first time I really wanted to kill myself I was 12, so that might have been when these thoughts started, but the topic had been on my mind far before that. I was the suicidal child that no one took seriously. Well, at such an early age as 6 I had no idea how to even go through with it. I didn't know what was lethal or not. That took some time to figure out.

I really didn't figure that out until just a few years ago. Of course I knew the principles long before that, but it wasn't until I was maybe 20 or 21 that I found out just how deep you need to cut, or just how big an overdose it's required.

Apart from me being suicidal like forever, I haven't always been unhappy in it's general term. Just tormented. I've had too much on my mind, too many feelings in my heart, too much longing in my soul. I think that maybe my memories of Dala has made me an unhappy person. That clinging to them, wishing I had never come here, always comparing Dala to this world, has made me incapable of truly enjoying anything in this life. Cause no matter how good things are, they were always better in Dala.

Yes, I have thought about that before. Even wished that I could take it all away, all those memories and start over without them. I don't wish for Dala to never have happened, I just wish that my reincarnation was more like other people's reincarnations: without any memories of it. Cause I think that then I wouldn't have had something so much better to compare with. Then I would have given this life a chance.

Cause that has been a problem. I never gave this life even the slightest bit of a chance. Ever since I discovered about my reincarnation, somewhere around age 4 to 6, I can't remember before 5-6, but my mother told me about my first suicidal thoughts at the age of 4. Ever since then all I wanted was to throw this life away. For somehow I discovered that by dying I would be able to return to my "real home" as I said back then.

A thing my mother told me just the other day or so, about a "Monroe Institute". A guy that remembered a past life much like mine. He described it as our (human kind) place of creation, our first home, where we all come from. A place of perfection and harmony. Well, just hearing about another person remembering what could most likely be the exact same place, kinda blew my mind! He's dead now, unfortunately, but I've been meaning to check out that website my mother mentioned.

I still cling to Dala, but as of lately I've been trying to let go. It feels like I need to let go in order to grasp this life that I'm living right now. Trying not to think about it so much, trying to move on. I should of course have done that many years ago, but it's so close to my heart, it's like it is every essence of my soul. And my soul is screaming, yearning, aching, bleeding to return. It's hard to ignore those heart tearing wishes that's been solely the number one reason for almost all of my suicide attempts. And I don't even know if I'll be able to return.

That is how strong those feelings can be, so strong that I'm sometimes ready to just throw away this life forever, even though I don't know if I would return to Dala. 50/50 and I take the bet, sort of. But most of the time, all that long time between suicide attempts, I don't want to take that chance. However, that is how strongly I still cling to Dala. Ready to kill myself for a childhood fantasy land.

So there was where it all started, so young that my very first memories hadstarted to take form. I shut myself away from the world, didn't want to be a part of it. It was a pretty good defence mechanism as I was bullied from my first year of school. I was antisocial, hated humanity and didn't want so called friends. I liked to keep my distance, until I started to like my future best friend. Realising she was one of few who didn't hate me, one of few who wanted to hang out with me.

I don't know for sure if she was the one who brought me out of my bubble, or if I just invited her into it. Maybe bits of both, cause when I started to train karate in a different town I really had started to crawl out from that bubble. And that was also when I first started to let go of Dala. I don't remember feeling unhappy in my 7th grade, maybe that was as close to happy as I've ever been. Before things started to fall apart again.

It's really gone up and down since then, but mostly down. I wasn't comparing so much with Dala as of what I can remember, didn't wanna think about it. Life fucked me over, but it wasn't because of my way absent past. I had lost faith in myself a long time ago, and almost invited bad people into my life. I'd rather something bad happened than nothing at all. Yes, I remember saying that when I was 14 or 15, and I'm not saying any of the horrible things I went through was my own fault. I'm mostly thinking about the rape, but not exclusively. I've never blamed myself for his despicable deed, but was it entirely on him?

I'm just saying that if I was confident and even cared about protecting myself, it's likely it never would have happened.

I was skilled in self defence and had been warned about creeps like him and that exact situation. Don't follow strange men home. Yet I did. It was even my own suggestion. It was like I didn't even care, like I invited it. But then it all went wrong of course, or it would have been a one night stand instead of a rape. But I did have it in the back of my mind. I did have it in the back of my mind already in the moment I asked if we could go to his place. I thought that there was a risk of rape if I went home with him. That's what I'm talking about. So it's not my fault that he raped me, but it's very much my own bloody fault that I ended up in his apartment. I'm smiling about this, so don't worry. I can be an idiot sometimes and years later I'm smiling at my own dumb choices. Practically over it by now.

After that, of course, I fell some more into my despair. Just months later I ended up with my first actual boyfriend, and we were happy to begin with. I was in love, so very much in love, and he loved me too. I had never had that before, and sadly, never again after. But that happiness only lasted a few months before he also became one of those creeps I had been warned about. The manipulative kind of men who wants to literally own their partner. Decide what I should eat, wear, weigh, do and who I was allowed to see and not. It took several months for me to muster breaking up with him, thought he could change. And I broke his heart but he broke mine too.

Shortly after our break up I re-realised the transgender stuff and I don't know if that brought me up or down. There was too much going on already, but that realisation couldn't have come a day too early. But some things got harder, I had to defend myself and my human rights all the damn time and dating became a hell. But at least I was myself, I was finally true to myself.

Once again I end up summarising my whole life, as if I didn't know about it already. As if I could ever stop obsessing about my own tragic life. It hasn't only been bad, but the bad out weighs the good and the negative feelings have always been so much stronger. The hell that I've been through, the hell between me and Anna, the hell between me and the world around me. That even if I try my best and hardest I end up failing, I crash on the concrete aching and bleeding. But I don't give up.

For some reason, despite all the chaos and darkness, I still fight and try to do better next time. I know that if I search long enough I will find what I'm looking for. In the end, and in the long run that is what I truly believe. And I have nothing, absolutely nothing to support that belief. That's why I don't think that I'm depressed, and perhaps I never even was. It's something else, all the other negative emotions except for sadness.

A common misconception is that you have to be depressed if you truly want to kill yourself. It's not true. It is believed to be the most common reason for suicide, but not the one reason alone. I've got enough reason and more. Missing Dala, hating the person living inside my head day and night, lovesickness, feeling incomplete and broken, being stuck in a limbo, anxiety, hating my body and so on. I've got reasons, but I'm not depressed. I want to die, but I'm not unhappy, not overwhelmed with sadness.

Being happy isn't just about happiness. I don't think that just by adding something to my life, that would make me happy. I already have too much to carry, and I don't think I will ever get rid of any of that. That is why I don't think I will ever be happy. It's not about what I don't have, it's what I already have.

I'm still counting

Eventually I fell asleep this time as well, some time after 3:00 am, early Sunday morning and I have slept from then until 11:00 today. By then I had been awake for 91 hours, almost 4 days. I'm not sure what made me crash this time, I usually don't see the reason. Perhaps the pain, confusion and tiredness just got too much to handle. It's hard to say. But I remember that I said "I can't do it any longer" just before I crashed. The last three or four hours were kinda awful.

I'm getting into a new state where being awake for 24 hours is just me "newly awakened"...

So this is my way of escaping it all. By counting hours, I escape my fear of sleep. It makes it easier to be awake, and it's easier to deal with when I can't keep awake any longer. Cause then, falling asleep is just "a minor setback" rather than feeling like the monster I've been running from just devoured me. It's easier to make being awake into an achievement of sleep deprivation, than to face my fear of sleep. So maybe I do want to break the world record as I know it, 11 days. Just slowly increasing the number of hours each time. Next goal? 100 hours. That means that I'll have to stay awake until 15:00 on Friday.

Gonna see my shrink that day. She's gonna hate me... whatever I tell her, it's hard to hide the fact that you've been awake for half a week. Make up, yeah... how about a face lift!

Need to go shopping today. Running out of food and cigarettes. That's really everything I spend money on these days.

I've forgotten how nice it felt: hate. No, it's probably not gone that far, or how to say it. But wanting to curse someone is a step on that way, eh?

There's something weird about a particular sweater of mine. It seems to keep me much warmer than it should be able to. It's just a knitted shirt, nothing special about it really. But in whatever temperature I happen to be, it keeps me just warm enough. Stupid of me to be scared of a fucking shirt... yet, this has to be due to something weird in my mind. I react differently on temperatures than normally.

It's like back in mid summer, when I could wear the exact same outfit for a week without being cold or too warm in everything from 10 to 30 degrees. I think I'm back there, in that state. I haven't figured out exactly what it is, but my mind is probably behind it. Not the clothes, not the thermometer. Though my instincts turn to those.