A wild horse on crack

Jag: Borde jag inte skura också?
Anna: Låt bli lägenheten!
Jag: Skulle gått ut med badrumssoporna också...
Anna: Men sluta nu!
Jag: Men jag måste, bara lite, ta bort det där dammet på spisfläkten...
Anna: Amen för i helvete!

I'm so tired, my body is aching and my mind just keeps on spinning and there's no way for me to relax. I've tried everything I suppose I just have to wait it out. I hope that it won't take too long. I hate that things in my life always fucks up at night or weekends when no help is available.

Listen to music - NOT a good idea. I'm singing out loud and dancing like a freak. To Enya. I took some pictures to show how that didn't help.

One good thing though: no one is surprized or find it funny that I'm acting like a wild horse on crack, cause every single one of my neighbors are just as crazy as I am. It's kinda comforting in a way. That was so much harder when I was living in a normal apartment and the neighbors were getting pissed off everytime I was having one of my moods.

Another good thing: I smoke less, cause I just can't sit down and be quiet for ten seconds and I'm so eratic I won't even notice the lack of nicotine my body is craving.

Even writing this is hard cause I can only write for a few seconds before I start spinning in circles. I never knew endless amounts of energy could be so exhausting. I just need to get it out, get it out of me. Well at least it's good exercise and every little piece of muscle in my body will be in severe pain tomorrow.

Maniac

Tonight I've written 12 pages in my autobiography, felt really good and productive! As the morning came I got a little tired but my mind was still racing in a pace I could't keep upp with. I've just cleaned the apartment for 4 hours without a break or even being able to sit down in two minutes for a cigarette. I'm crawling out of my skin. I think I'm manic.

It's so typical. I couldn't even feel happy and energetic for a few days without it being a symptom of some annoying mental illness. If I had only known that these days were me being hypomanic and know, tonight and today it's escalated to a full blown manic episode. I think it's my meds fucking me up, cause I've never been this way before. Ever. Instead of making my emotions, ups and downs more neutralized, it has increased to a dangerous extreme. I'm fucking bipolar now, is that even a registered side effect of fucking MOOD STABILIZERS?!

Sorry about the excessive cursing and caps, but I'm a little upset right now. My doctor is on summer vacation and will be back in August and it's Friday. Jay... If this gets any worse I'll have to check myself into a hospital. I don't know what to do with myself.

Gonna take one of those working here for a walk to the grocery store to buy some food and go to the bank and pick up a package that has arrived. I kinda think I need someone to stop me from going completely crazy and buy everything I see or just frigging crawl on the walls. Haya!

I hate you and I love you

Me: Fuck off, I'm fed up with you! Why can't you just leave me alone?
Anna: I'm in the same position as you.
Me: No you're not. You chose me, I didn't chose you.

My thoughts are running on empty. I just wanna go to sleep, just wanna sleep. I just want a rest from Anna and all the fucked up shit in our relationship. Tired of her constant presence. When I eat, write, shower, talk to others, chosing what clothes to wear or making dinner. Everytime I lit a cigarette, everytime I dye my hair or cut my nails. Everything I do or say, she's always gonna have her say.

I'm tired. I'm tired of years and years of this shit. 15 fucking years. I can't even remember what it was like before she came into my life. I want to know, I want to know what life could be without her. To only hear my own thoughts, to only feel my own feelings, making my own decisions. To not have to think of the "we" in every fucking situation, always asking of her permission or getting harassed for weeks or sometimes even years if I did something she opposed to. When she's demanding, threatens, taunts, insults and keeps up an insane arguement for hours.

I would miss some things though. Like how she comes up with ideas I could never have figured out, solves a problem I have given up on, comfort me when I'm sad or tell me what to do when I don't know what to do.

No. It's time for a change.

Vem är jag?

Sommaren det år jag var nio
och jag fick en vän
min första vän

Hon räddade mig den där dagen
när jag inte såg bilen
som kom mot mig

Jag frågade vem hon var
och varför ingen kunde se henne
och hon svarade att hon var en annan

Vi kunde ha varit syskon
så lika och så olika
men vi delar samma kropp

Vad var det som hände
vem är Anna, vem är John
är jag en, är jag två?

Food and exercise

This cooking thing is almost kinda fun. I still burned things though, but I suppose it reaquires some practice, as with everything else. Like turning on the right stove plate, and timing what should be made when and for how long, setting the right temperature and stuff like that.

Today I've consumed 307 calories and taken a power walk, sort of. Keep on walking and eating healthy, and I should lose weight. Hopefully I'll reach my goal by the end of the summer. I'd like to lose weight faster though, but as long as it's going in the right direction I guess that should be enough. But I'm not satisfied with that. I wanna be thin, NOW!

My plan is to take a walk like that every day before eating, but a cup of tea before, just to get me going. Then I'm gonna make a small breakfast like oatmeal porridge or full grain bread with juice or milk. When I've been hungry for a while I'll make dinner, like I already do. I need to go shopping for more groceries. Fresh vegetables, low-fat milk, more chicken, healthy fat for cooking and bread. Eggs, perhaps. Is it something I've missed?

After a week or so I'm gonna drag myself to that gym below ICA and do some spinning or the like to mix up with the walking. Finally, I start doing something to reach that goal, after talking about it for two or three years. I don't know for how long, but I remember lifting some weights during the fall 2010. That's probably the last time I did something healthy. Eating healthy though, I don't think I have ever done before. Maybe when I was a kid. I've consumed huge amounts of chocolate cakes, cookies, bisquits, candy and soda for a long time. Now I don't even like sweets. It makes me frown when I think of it or someone talks about it.

The fine art of lying

Okay, this isn't working. I can't get out of bed before noon, it's just as impossible as falling asleep before dawn. And why haven't I lost any weight in three days? I'm getting frustrated! Gotta replace the sugar in my tea somehow, perhaps honey? 4 g honey has only 12,8 kcal while 4 g sugar has 16 kcal. I suppose it's worth a try, cause I really don't wanna try those fake sugars. They taste weird and I've heard they're not good for the body.

Figuring out a good way to lie to my therapist about my eating habits. It's a fine art, lying convincingly. Don't exagerate, keep eye contact, don't get angry, stay calm. I suppose it's stupid to lie to one's therapist, but there's nothing that says that I mustn't. Besides, I think I have a good reason to, and that is I don't want any help or attention. I'm so fed up with everyone telling me how to eat! It's my life, my body, my choice.

I will tell her that I started cutting myself again though, since that's something that fills up my days and nights. If I were to leave it out, it would be very hard talking about what happened this week since everything pretty much revolves around that. It is my solution to almost everything. That, and taking walks around the block. Often combined though.

Keep on going

Appearently, it's 16 kcal in one lump of sugar. Good to know. Yeah, I'm gonna calculate every single thing I put in my mouth. Every cup of tea, dinner, snack, every little breadcrumb. At least it will keep me busy, but not so very busy since I barely eat at all. Just wanna know exactly kow much in calories I eat in a day.

Jag undrar om "skrivkramp" är en ursäkt författare drar till med när de inte har någon inspiration eller ork till att producera något? För det är jävligt sällan jag faktiskt får ont i handen/armen av att skriva, och jag skriver rätt mycket. Eller så är det kanske så att man blandar ihop det med skrivblockering, vilket ju är det det är. Men hur fasen kan man blanda ihop ord som är så tydligt relaterade till just skrivande om man är författare? Är det bara jag som har en uppfatting om att det kan vara bra att ha lite koll på sitt språkbruk om det är det man sysslar med på heltid?

Trying to figure out I should say when I call the transsexual/gender reassignment team in Huddinge. I always keep forgetting it, but sometimes when do remember it's always after 6.00 pm. At first I just wanted the sex change, then I really needed it, now I'm fucking desperate!

I've started taking walks around the block. First this Sunday, and then earlier today. Hopefully I'll keep this up since it's kinda good for me. Even though I have this really stupid reason, which is to walk off calories... since I barely consume any calories at all, I conciders that a stupid reason. But at least it's a reason. I have a better reason though, when I think of it, and that is calming myself down during an anger outburst. So if I'll take a walk every time I get angry, I'm gonna walk a lot!

At group therapy yesterday someone asked if I had lost weight. I said yeah, 5 kg, does it show? She said that it did. Made me happy!

I'm not sure if this is voluntery anymore. It feels like I can't stop, cause everytime I see the numbers on that scale, whether I've lost or gained, I just have to keep on with this. It's the only thing I feel that I can control in my life right now. I can't control my sleeping pattern, my mood swings or anything really. These things just keep on happening however they want to; but my food intake, that I have complete control over. I can decide exactly what to eat and how much and when. With it, I might be able to control my weight, though it's not an exact science of course.

Thinking about thoughts

Think I'm gonna start adding pictures here every now and then! This is me (in case you didn't know) today, sitting by the computer with an all so present cigarette in my hand. Behind me is my book shelf and the walls aren't quite that pink/brown in reality. They are more wine red but look purple in some light. Very delightful indeed.

My grandmother had so many razor blades that I'm starting to wonder if she also self harmed. But they're mine now, and they've lasted for so many years. These old, beautiful razor blades that doesn't seem to be sold in Sweden anymore. I won't upload a picture, cause of the triggering factors. And because I'm lazy.

How I stay in the present: I focus on what is shitty right now, instead of what was shitty up until now.

Writing about my OCD I had during my childhood, in my autobiography. Been a couple of weeks since I last wrote anything there. Started to write in English today and then realized: oh yeah, right, I'm writing this in Swedish! How stupid of me! But every other Swedish word ended up spelled the English way instead... Like "perfect" instead of "perfekt", stuff like that. I haven't written anything in swedish for weeks, except for a sentence here and there. Even though my thoughts are running haywire 24/7, thinking isn't my strongest side.

Counting

I think some fucker stole my razor blades during therapy today. Alright, I get it, you don't have to tell me what a stupid idea it was to bring them there in the first place. The thing is, I hid them in a compact powder box, which I thought was a very clever place to put them in. Obviously I was wrong. I might hade dropped them though, but that's highly unlikely. From this moment on, I will fucking wear them in my boxers. That is the one place they won't rifle through without me noticing it. I'm gonna kill the fucker who took them, or at least make her or him pay for this. These days, no one's fucking with me without consequences! This I vow.

So... I started counting calories today, and to my outmost surprise my dinner consisted of only 207,75 calories. But that was all I could get down, before I got full. This was very exhausting: cooking my own food, weighting everything and reading all the labels, adding, deviding, subracting and at the same time making sure my food didn't get burned. But once I know the drill, it will probably get easier. If I'm gonna do this, I really have to learn how to cook. This is insane...

A cup of tea

Feels like there's nothing left of me. I'm empty. The fuse died again, surprizingly. Only had one left, so I pray a little to my new God down below, that this fucking fuse will work until I head off to Visby tomorrow when I can buy some more.

When the lights went out in my apartment, all I could do was to scream. I fell apart on the floor and let out the most hideous, painful cry I've ever heard from my own mouth. On the floor I cried so hard, sobbed, screamed and shivered in cramps for what felt like hours. I don't think I've ever cried like this before.

All I wanted was a cup of tea.

When it finally was over, I stumbled back on my feet and seperated my hair from my face that were basically glued together with tears and snot. I thought perhaps a shower could do me some good? After that I went to change that fuse, again, and try to make myself that cup of tea, again. Since switching on the electric kettle made everything go out, I wasn't very keen to do the same mistake again. The only wall sockets in this apartment that are NOT connected to that same fuse are ones in my bedroom.

So I made my tea in the bedroom instead. Good thing I'm creative, at least.

I have this strange hunch that mother nature is punishing the crap out of me when I don't sleep at night. Many times I've asked if she thinks that I will be able to sleep so much better when I'm pissed off and yelling my guts out. This is kinda illogical, I know. And I also know that I'm blaming all sorts of things and nothings when I'm... uhm, upset. Especially if it's something that I can't explain. I mean, how is it possible that the same fuse goes out every day three days in a row, but never before, under just that one weekend I'm feeling extra horrible? How can my internet connection know that I don't wanna live? Strange...

Master the chaos

I feel safe in hospital clothes cause they are from the hospital and therefore they should take care of me.

It's so strange how the world around me seem to fall apart when I fall apart and always at night when there's no one to call or ask for help. At Friday I fell apart on the floor and when the people that care for me where I live had just got off work and headed home to their families, things got out of hand. In this apartment all wires to lamps, computer, microwave, electric kettle, everything goes to the same fuse for some really stupid reason (what were they thinking?) It went out a few weeks ago, not so strange cause of all that stuff sucking the life out of it. But this Friday it died again and crying and screaming I called my mother for help and advise, in the middle of the night. She was half asleep but still did her best to try and help me figure out how to change the fuse.

Yesterday the new fuse died, also during the night but at least this time I knew how to change it but it didn't change how furious and upset I was that the last one only lasted for one fucking day. This was the night when I thought I was gonna die, I had no one to turn to cause it was in the middle of the night and I was scared and tired and just wanted to die and make all this shit stop.

Today I was "fine" or at least coping until my internet connection just stopped working and I went up to check that all the cables or wires was where they should but it didn't help at all. So I tried to see if I could restart it somehow but I just don't know my way around complicated technology like this so I gave up. Didn't wanna make it worse. Once again I cursed everything, yelled and hit things, just wanted to tear the whole world apart. I just can't understand how this world around me just falls into pieces simultaneously as I do and always at night. I just can't understand I just can't understand...

There was nothing I could do. Who do you call in the middle of the night when your internet connection is malfunctioning and you just can't stop screaming and crying and breaking things to unrecognisable pieces? Who do you call then, huh?

I decided to just put on my boots, take my keys, lock the door and start walking. Out of this place, anywhere but here. Just walk it off, walk it off. With blood running down my arms, freezing cold wearing only clothes successfully stolen from the psychiatric ward in Ulleråker and a morning robe wrapped around. My eyes had barely dried up and all the time I whispered to myself in a mantra instead of thoughts. Constantly smoking and rambling nonsense and words of painful truths about the dead of night, the full moon, what life is all about and how fucked my life is. That I'm a bloody mess, just a fucking mess trapped in this endless chaos.

There's no order in this world, no boundaries and everyone who think they have boundaries that they should follow has missed what life is all about. It's about constantly breaking them and moving without going anywhere. There's no destiny, no fate and nothing happens for a reason. It's all just messed up and we're not here to create order - we're here to master the chaos. And those who don't... well ain't I a perfect example?

As I got back home again the internet was fine and just can't help but wondering: was it ever at fault?

All the shit I've been through this night, this weekend, this week just adds up to the most important question: is my life really worth living?

Endless aching need

It was hard as I begun, each day harder it has become...

Down on 75,1 kg today. I keep a weight- and a food diary, along with measurements and still trying to figure how to count calories. My portions are getting smaller and smaller every day. My arms are getting more and more wounded every day. Self mutilation and starvation - yeah, I'm so on top of the world right now...

But obsessions keeps me going, whether it's about food, people, clothes, hobbies or self harm. It's an endless aching need, a hunger I cannot feed.

Titel

Went to buy groceries, with one of those who work where I live. We talked about all sorts of things, everything from traveling to tattoos and we seem to have a bit in common. I haven't told him about my transsexualism and I almost told him I was going for a swim in a bikini during the class trip to Åland when I was in 9th grade. That would have been awkward, to say the least. So I stopped myself and skipped the bikini-part.

So now I've bought frozen chicken, tea, milk and raw rice. Went home to cook some of that and realized I don't have any utensils for that! So I turned on my creative side and solved the problem another way. I ate this really small porton, not even half a plate, and I feel stuffed.

Min kontaktperson i personalen på mitt boende och jag konverserar inne på ICA, när jag läser upp vad jag har på min handlingslista:
Han: en matvåg, vad är det?
Jag: asså det är en våg man väger mat på.
Han: jaha, ja men det hörs på namnet. Ganska självklart egentligen. Varför fattade jag inte det?

Finally, my toys have arrived! Well, since they were shipped from somewhere in US I couldn't expect getting them sooner. But still! So I've finally gotten my new packer (the one I had before got lost when I moved last time). I picked the smallest one this time, concidering I don't want my real thing to be so very big either.

My pants are getting too big, I could easily take them off without unbuttoning them first. Time to change to smaller clothes perhaps?

Under control (poem)

I wanna have control
change myself with restriction
the little math I know
will be used in truth and in fiction

There's no secret
that I hate the way I look
tired of not finding a better method
I'm prepared for the choise I took

I want a better body
so tired of this awful figure
it's scares me and intrigues me
that I'm afraid of getting bigger

I've got clothes in all sizes
and none of them fit
all I want is to change
just a little bit

Spaced out

I was quite scared falling asleep this morning. My headache was killing me, I felt like puking, I was constantly shifting between being too cold or too warm, my heart was beating so fast for hours and my breathing was so shallow. I thought for sure I was gonna die. But no... I'm not getting away that easily! Eventually I did fall asleep and obviously I woke up too. I think this is starting to get serious, if I can't make myself eat and drink soon, my body will eventually give up.

But I wasn't actually scared. I thought if I die now, from this, it would be an accident. Cause it wasn't my intention to die, it just would have happened. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.

I feel sick, cold, spaced out. Like I'm not getting enough oxygen, that my blood is too weak to provide me that. I haven't been able to eat anything for almost 48 hours except for a few spoons of yoghurt. I'm passed the point of being hungry. Believe me, this is worse than hangover, but yeah, sort of the same symptoms. I just emotionally, mentally and physically can't eat, and all water I drink just runs right through me. It's getting out of hand and I don't care if I die from it, but it sure is interresting.

Sure, if I fall apart and stop breathing they can take me to the hospital and shove me full of fluids and force feed me, but not before then. Not before then. I really don't like the way they brutally shock the body back to a normal state in less than one night. I've been through that, it's not fun at all.

I'm giving it another day, and then we'll see what happens. One day at a time. I really need to buy some groceries and cigarettes and I seriously don't think I'll be able to walk there in this state. I can barely sit up straight, so walk a couple of kilometers will possibly make me faint. But I have to. No one else is gonna go buy them for me. I have to do it, today. And wash my clothes. I sure picked one hell of a day to do all that.

Agreement

If I'm really dehydrated, then why do I need to pee fourteen times a day as soon as I've started to drink water!? Is my body somewhat incapable of absorbing fluids, or what? And on top of that, my headache got worse from it. This sucks. Appearently, my body wants to suffer just like the rest of me. Finally we've come to an agreement! For the first time in... well, forever my mind, body and soul seem to want the same thing: give up.

Managing pain

The only way I can deal with pain is by inflicting pain: on myself and on others, and by letting others inflict pain on me. Pain is my life.

Read a bit in the forum threads on Safe Haven and miss read something as 'sick fuck' and instantly felt like listening to Unter Null. I had almost forgotten how good her music is.

I have this horrible headache. Found a few Citodon pills lying around in my apartment along with some Paraflex, so I took one of each a couple of hours ago. (Paraflex is muscle relaxing, which is great for pain caused by tensions). The first hour I was just waiting for the effect to kick in and couldn't understand why it didn't. Until I remembered they don't work without food. Damnit! I feel extra disgusted by food today so I was mildly frustrated as I rifled through the fridge for something eadible. Eventually decided for a miniature porton of fruit yoghurt, asking Anna if she thought that could be enough. Worth a try, at least. And... it worked!

So I'm sitting here tripping on codein right now... woah! I remember OD'ing on these quite frequently back in the days during the second winter in 2010. They're not so effective as a painkiller though, my headache is still rather horrible, but at least they make the pain funnier! C'OD'ing!

Not many painkillers are effective on me. I've tried all sorts of kinds but Citodon is the strongest I've tried. And it barely takes the edge of it. Good thing my headaches are manageable most of the time! Otherwise I would be fucking hospitalized, or tripping on morphine 24/7. At least it's not that bad, I mean.

Förlorad

Jävla dator! Kan inte skriva, alla tangenter blir helt uppfuckade när jag försöker skriva på nätet, men inte i skrivprogram på datorn. Vad i helvete? Vad fan har jag gjort?! Jag orkar inte orkar inte orkar inte med sånt här. Jag flippar ur helt, skriker mig hes och har sönder allt i min omgivning. Jag hatar mitt liv, jag hatar mig själv, jag hatar så jävla mycket att det finns ingenting kvar att älska.

Det lilla jag tycker om blir bara hindrat konstant. Jag kan inte rita för jag har ingen inspiration, inga pennor fungerar och allt blir bara skit ändå. Jag kan inte skriva för dessa jävla tangenter och jag orkar inte försöka lista ut vad fan jag gjort för att det ska bli så. Jag är så v'ldigt klumpig och fumlig, kan för i helvete inte ens hålla i en penna utan att tappa den konstant eller försöker skriva med den åt fel håll. Jag tänder cigaretten i filtret, spiller te över mig och knockar omkull saker av att bara sträcka på benen, slår i väggar och möbler med höften och axlarna konstant, tappar hörlurarna varje gång jag ska sätta på mig dem och sätter fötterna i fel sko hela tiden.

Jag förlorar mig själv, min värdighet, min förmåga att ta hand om mig själv, tappar IQ poäng (snart kan jag väl inte ens komma på hur man öppnar en dörr). När jag försöker prata faller orden sönder i min mun och blir obegripliga och jag försvinner in i en dimma utan någon som helst kontakt med omvärlden.

Hindra för i helvete inte min kreativitet det är det enda jag har. Det enda jag har.

Jag är förlorad. Jag faller. Så jävla misslyckad, a fucking failure.

To be alive (poem)

Finding the worst of ways to survive
withot morals or a will to be alive
learn to live to serve my needs
I follow the road wherever it leads

Through sorrow passed the human heart
I don't longer care if I fall apart
A self image of disappointment
and fantasies about physical torment

Persistant wishes of gaining control
counting calories and let the pain unfold
My world is just an illusion
an endless dream of constant confusion

So much time spent on searching for my kind
so many oportunities I've left behind
A desperate chase to destroy what little remains
and all I can think of is my devotion to pain

Weight obsession

19:25
My heart is beating so fast and I don't know why. It's making me dizzy and sweaty. It's been doing so since I woke up about an hour ago. Keep that cell phone handy in case things get out of hand...

20:45
Decided to weight myself everyday starting yesterday. So... technically I was at 76,4 kg yesterday. Today I'm at 76,1. This is going to be so weird... can't believe I'm really doing this. But it makes me happy when I step on that scale and the numbers are dropping and my clothes are getting too big. It's kinda addictive! I'm gonna try to not completely fill this blog with numbers of kilograms and calories and exact what and how much I eat, cause I have a feeling that's more interesting to me than it is to others... who doesn't have an eating disorder...

Shit... my life just keeps on taking turns to worse. But this is good too, right? I mean I kinda need to lose weight. I've gotta get in shape, and it's always been like this for me. Always going for the outer extremes. Either I'm starving myself or eat myself to obesity, there's never any middle grounds. Damn borderline personality, I hate you!

21:17
My heart has finally started to slow down, though it's still beating too fast. It's probably due to a lot of things: dehydration, lack of food, lack of exercise, my fucked up sleeping pattern, and even smoking excessively, perhaps.

Gotta drink more water, goddamnit, but I just keep forgetting. I'm going to fill up a jug of water and place on my desk to sip from every minute, right now. What the fuck was I thinking yesterday? I can't go around dehydrated just because of the thrill of it! That's stupid! I'm stupid, sometimes...

What I shouldn't want

Realizing I'm quite dehydrated after looking up symptoms at Vårdguiden (reliable source). But I can't be sure. Either it's just me being me, cause most of the listed symptoms like head aches, low blood pressure and pale skin are just "natural" to me. But adding up all of them I'm somewhere between somewhat dehydrated and severely dehydrated. Nice.

What the heck is wrong with me? Okay, a lot of stuff! Cause this isn't worrying me at all, I think it's kinda fascinating. Wonder how long I can keep this up before I die? Would that be an awful way of dying? I kinda hope so! But then it's this thing that I want to try every possible, interesting way of dying... and I only get to choose one! Major issue here!

Why do I feel this strange need to explore all sorts of misery and agony all the time? Don't I wanna get better, like you know, actually want to feel good and stop chasing pain and suffering like a mad dog's chasing a twig? I dunno... I mean I should want that better life where I'm chasing hot men and sunlight instead of interesting ways of dying and pushing myself to the point where my brain melts?

Right...?

Without resistence

My screams are shallow
when anger turns into silence
I don't know who I am anymore
and I give in without resistence

Emotions overwhelming
until there's nothing left to feel
and I somehow still believe
that this life isn't real

Why turn on the lights
in a world consumed by darkess
and once overpowered by apathy
even suicide is meaningless

I can't differ warm from cold
and there are no tears to cry
I don't longer care
if I live or die



I gave in and cut five semi-deep wounds. I've been self injuring on and off for eight years. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop. It was a damn stupid choise to start cutting in the first place. My addiction to blood runs too deep now. If I was given the choise to go back in time and change only one thing in my entire life, it would be to never pick up my father's razor, that spring in 2005.

I would pick to change only this mistake over the rape. I would pick it over my six month period of alcoholism. I would chose it over falling for Tomb and having my heart ripped to pieces every day for over a year. And I would chose this over the traumatic incident my bullies did to me in 2nd grade that made me develope a split personality. I would chose this over ever being born into this awful world.

There are only two things in my whole life that I regret: starting cutting myself, and ever being born.

All the rest I listed are tragic, traumatic, awful events riddled with pain, sorrow and guilt. But I don't regret them. It all happened for a reason, I learned something valuable from all of them and without them I would be a different person. Cause as much as I hate myself, I'm still the most awesome person that I know, next to Karin.

So I guess this will be yet another summer I'll be spending in long sleeved shirts, hiding my wounds from an all too caring and concerned family, if they were to find out. I just don't wanna see that sad look in my mothers eyes; a look that says she knows my pain and how hard life is for me. And at the same time I think she's also given up on her son ever getting better. Or maybe that's just me projecting, I'm not sure. Cause she's said things that really makes me wonder if she really thinks this will go on forever until I finally succeed with that last suicide attempt.

Eternal scars

Ashamed and harassed
this guilt ridden indulgence
So many long sleeved shirts
covering me in false confidence

A way to cope when I can't cope
a relief so forbidden and wrong
A way to leave without going
when I'm just not that strong

For every pain that passes
these memories will follow
An addiction of which little is known
a thrill that makes me hollow

Like fire under my skin
an endless crimson flow
To end the panic, but leaves me
filled with sorrow

When only the cold steel can heal
and give me comfort in reverse
and all too late I realize
that I'm full of eternal scars

Overwhelming

I want to cut myself so bad right now. It's overwhelming and cruel how intense this feeling is. Don't know if anything triggered me. I was just writing on my blog (the entry before this). I'm listening to a beautiful cover version of the song "Over the misty mountains" from the first film of "The Hobbit". It gives me major shivers that starts in my face and then moves down through my shoulders, back, arms, hands and ends in my finger tips that touches my face. Over and over again. That is an overwhelmingly, amazingly positive emotion. Yet I sit here with the strongest urge in over six months to feel that razor blade breaking through my skin. I'm so ambivalent I can't tell what's black from white.

Live and lose

I don't have to tell my therapist everything, right? My plans about performing a satanic ritual involving blood-letting (self injury), my increasing weight loss obsession, that I don't want to study or care about my grades or sitting in a sterilized class room with demon-killing-lights, my consistently dark thoughts and feelings of hopelessness and indifference to almost everything, or my very strong suicidal thoughts? No, maybe I don't have to mention everything.

But how much better will I feel if I keep on lying, giving promises I know I won't keep and pretend to feel better than I do? I don't want them to kick me out of the DBT because of my indifference to improve my life right now. If they do I'm really chanceless. Then I'm lost, a hopeless case.

Speaking about weight loss obsession, I found out today that I've lost 5 kg and landed on 75 kg! Only fifteen left to go then. (Started at 80 kg and my goal is 60 kg). Since I've already lost a quarter this might actually be doable. As of now, I'm still not exercising worth a damn, so dieting alone gave me this result. A diet of roughly 500 calories a day, no unhealthy fats and almost no sugar. Lots of vegetables, milk and whole grain bread. I'm not exactly counting calories (suck at math), but I've become somewhat picky, to say the least.

My goals right now (long term and short term):
- get the body I want by any means necessary
- write that damn autobiography
- try to survive through the summer
- to turn the clock around and change the night into day
- tattoo "28.06.42.12" on my arm, "My world, my rules" with blood spatter on my chest and a pair of torn demon wings on my back
- make the winters warmer
- learn Russian

So you see there's still things I really want in this life, and some of these goals will take years and a lot of effort to finish. And some of these goals are by definition impossible, but since I think they says a lot about me, they can stay. But there are no long term goals to fill out a whole life. This will only fill out the next five or ten years. The rest lies in an unpredicted darkness.

Tasteless

Major tripped on my computer cables today. I think they really have it in for me, since it's not uncommon for me to get entangled in them a couple of times a day, but this time I actually tripped and fell to the floor. So that was today's first anger outburst, 40 minutes after I woke up. I get angry a lot. Usually about five, six times a day unless it's a really bad day. Then it can be up to fifteen times. It's mostly over really stupid things like something I'm looking for but can't find, trying to understand something but fail miserably (usually something really humiliating, like how to open a box), drop something to the floor, tangled cables, being clumsy or trying to remember something I can't. I know that it's actually myself I'm angry at, and not the things around me. That's why it's so hard to let go once the feeling takes over, cause of the constant thoughts of what a failure I am.

It's still hard to eat. When I wake up, it takes hours before I can get anything down, other than tea. I do eat dinner though, and if I'm up during the night I might have a snack at dawn. I'd like to say that I try, but I don't. Forcing myself to eat is not gonna increase my apetite, on the contrary. The truth is I won't ever force myself to do anything if I think it will greatly make things worse, and that is the case with this. I've never liked food or eating, it might seem strange but it's true. For me it's just a necessary evil, like going to the bathroom. Sure it can feel good when you really need it, but it's not something you actually enjoy doing.

My transgender issues

At this point I've become more suicidal, and all because of the pain of living in this wrong-gendered body. I don't just hate it, I'm disgusted, ashamed, sad and even guilt plays into it. This isn't working anymore. I try to think positively, but I've lived in this limbo far too long now. I never thought it would take this long, 4 damn years have gone and nothing has changed.

Sure, being borderline, depressed and having asperger has taken it's toll. But the depression is actually just a symptom of living with all the other shit, so is being suicidal and self harming. It's a way of coping when you can't cope. But I get help for all of that now, with therapy, medication and the daily help I get where I live (maybe it could be called a halfway house for the insane?) This is the real issue, since everything else is going in the right direction but this is holding me back.

How am I supposed to repair my brain if my body keeps bringing me down?

I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just want to end it. End this misery of living half a life, hiding under clothes that gives me the look of a body I don't have, showering with the lights off and everytime I have sex with someone I feel really horrible afterwards because of this. All they see is a girl and I can't really blame them. But the reality of being fucked like girl when you're not hurts like hell.

This pain inside that rips me to pieces is unbearable. I try not to think of it, just living like a normal guy, but all I can think of is that I'm trapped in this horrible body and it's ruining my life. Whatever is left to ruin.

If I can't feel safe in my own body, then where?

Live out loud

I'm concidering becoming a satanist. Before you roll your eyes or shrug and think this is about devil-worship and and a stupid excuse to perform weird rituals with pentagrams and starting cutting myself again... that isn't exactly what I have in mind. Far from it.

Many seem to think that's what it's all about. Blood, vampirism, slaughter, evil, death-obsession and go totally haywire with goth and death metal associated lifestyles for complete maniacs without a brain. First of all, there's a significant difference between satanism and devil-worship.

A true satanist shunnes God and what his religions values as good, such as their views on sins, prayers and forgiveness. As opposed to turning the other cheek, hit them back! Eye for an eye, be good to those who deserve it, and be mean to those who deserve that. Give in for the sins as they give you pleasure and you shouldn't feel guilty about that. It's not about being promiscous or evil, it's about not denying your preferences (sexual or not) but never impose them onto others. Treat others as they treat you. You can't love everyone, that is just absurd.

In many ways it's about accepting oneself and others the way we are, that we all want different things in life and that is fine. To not be gullible and let others push you around. I think it's perfect for me!

But then why not just live like that, you don't have to be a satanist to indulge in your harmless desires? Well, technically no, but it runs deeper than that. Though this is the LaVeyism and they only see the Devil as a symbol, they are their own Gods. I don't really understand how that could even be concidered a religion, but hey what do I know! Taoism is also a religion and they don't have any Gods to worship or pray to either.

There are different kinds of satanism of course, and I haven't completely decided which kind I'll go for, but I know that I see Satan as a God and I will choose to follow him. As of now, I have already shunned the christian God (why the hell didn't I do that a long time ago?!) cause he's given me nothing but lies and deceit. Satan isn't by definition evil, most of the time, but just has different standards. Is it evil to enjoy sex or being jelous of someone who has a better life? Is it evil to want more than you already have, or wanting to beat up someone who wronged you? I think not. Not in my world. I won't passively sit by and let every asshole I meet punch me to the ground just because some up-tight crowd thinks that's the "good" thing to do. I wanna live out loud!

So I'm leaning towards theistic satanism, though it seems a bit... messy. Many different sects and some of them seem to have interesting opinions, and a lot of them are just crap. And I'm not really into that sect thingy. As I said nothing is for sure yet. I have A LOT of research to do and I'm gonna go through every possible angle and detail fifty-something times in my head and discuss it with others before I make my final decision.

I know I've been chasing religions practically all my life, and many has asked me why I so desperately want to find myself a religion. It's actually kind of simple. I have my strong beliefs and I want to have a lifestyle that goes well with them. Something consistant in my life I can rely on. Call it a desperate chase for a perfection I will never find, an unecessary need, or whatever, I just think it might do me some good. A way to untie my chaos or at least find a way to live with it. It's the same reason we want to find a community where we belong, a clothingstyle, a profession, or anything really. I think it's almost a basic thing in being human or the like, to want to belong to something where you can find comfort and reassurement, whether it be religion or not.

Heaven or Hell

I am quite certain there is a God, because there's so much I can't explain in any other way. Where would the world and all life have come from? I've been guided and tempted by forces I can only explain as God and his opposite.

But just because I believe there is a God, doesn't mean that I like him, but I don't dislike him either. I think he's unfair to have put me in so many rough situations through my life, but I'm greatful for the help and comfort he's given me. I was confirmed actually, because I wanted to find a way to become friends with God the christian way. Wanted to know what I was supposed to do to not feel like I was punished for something. But I got no answers. They thought the fault was on me, but I thought the fault was on God that was so picky about who and how I was supposed to be.

I eventually gave up on that and decided to go my own way instead. Got into discussions with an acquaintance who was a satanist, during my gymnasium time, and then saw things from a new point of view. Satan seemed less judging of his followers, you are the way you are and that's fine. Nothing wrong being a little damaged, and these so called sins wheren't actually that bad at all in his eyes. Or, they were bad in a good way. With my twisted views on morals and strange reasoning I kinda liked the guy. Yet satanism didn't really feel like my kinda thing either, cause I didn't wanna change the way I was. Didn't wanna get more evil or good or any other diversity.

I've always been drawn to the outer extremes and jumped between christianity and satanism and couldn't understand why they were two different religions. I mean in order to be a christian one has to admit that satan exists, and in order to be a satanist one has to admit that god exist. They're two faces of the same coin.

My problem has always been this. Choices. If it was possible I would not choose anything. Ever. To always leave all options open and walk inbetween everything. To be both at the same time.

There is no perfect religion for me. I walk on both sides with God to my left and Satan to the right. At least right now it's that way, cause I can't really hear what God says over there on my left (my deafness, you know) and all Satan says is kinda clear. But they switch places every now and then. I don't know if either of them wants me in their kingdoms, and I don't know where I wanna go either. I'm a good hearted sinner, a corrupted saint, I just don't belong in either religion yet no other.

Can a reincarnated demon born in Hell find a place in Heaven? Obviously I could, since that was Dala. But I was shunned from there somehow, so where the fuck am I now? Have both sides shunned me, or is that entirely up to me? Since I've been in both places I wonder why the hell I'm in this place. There's so much I can't understand. I've been chasing these two forces for an eternity, will I ever find my answers?

Just got it. They're observant! I will know the day I die.




Soundtrack: Iron Maiden - The thin line between love and hate

Fynd på kattloppis

Varje gång jag åker till Visby tittar jag in i katthemmets second hand, som ofta går under namnet "kattloppisen" och rotar igenom klädavdelningen, bland möbler, lampor och servicer. Ibland hittar jag lite snygga kläder, muggar, en byrå eller så köper jag något som bara blir liggande i något hörn. För en vecka sen eller så, fann jag en väldigt snygg, svart trenchcoat. Något för stor, men i väldigt fin kvalitet. Jag tänkte att denna måste vara nytillverkad från typ H&M, men jag kunde inte ha haft mer fel.

När jag till slut läste på etiketten såg jag att det stod att den är tillverkad i Sverige. Woot! Tror fan att jag aldrig ägt ett enda plagg som jag inte sytt själv, som är tillverkat i Sverige. Märket är Junex, och efter lite googlande läste jag mig fram till att det var ett svenskt företag som startade 1927 men som lades ner 1985. Så den är minst trettio år gammal, med andra ord. Den ser helt ny ut, inte ens en tråd är skadad. Tror den kostade mig en hundring. Det kallar jag ett fynd!

Jag förfaller

Jag föddes frisk och med livlig fantasi dansade jag genom min barndom

jag tyckte inte om att springa men min energi tog aldrig slut

jag kom att hata sport efter alla hårda bollar och långa elljusspår

i tonåren började energin sina, gick åt till ångest och depression

när smärtan blev fysisk rasade jag fort

ständigt sinade mina krafter tills de slutade existera över huvud taget

jag har inte haft en smärtfri dag på åtta år

och nu lever jag på sparlåga

jag lever på sparlåga

Tired from sleeping

Really well done John, fall asleep at 11:00 and getting up at 20:30. Now that is a day well spent!

No. This ain't good. I would have stayed in bed over the night as well, if it wasn't for all those fucked up dreams I had. Woke up scared, sweating with my heart beating it's way out of my chest, and screaming, a few times. Think it was four different dreams all together but it could have been more, about all sorts of creepy things. Mistreated and abused by people without faces, judged and accused of things I didn't do, and therefor punished. Really punished, at the point of bleeding in agony. Not so strange I woke up screaming.

I usually don't have nightmares/night terrors like that anymore, but I guess my sleeping pattern and lack of food can mess up anyones dreams. I mean, it's always weird dreams one way or another, but they're mostly just weird without being scary. Sometimes they're not really nightmares, but down right disgusting. Like one particular dream I had a few weeks ago that I still remember because of just how utterly disgusting it was. In the dream I was a five year old boy who got raped by his father. But that's not all, this boy I was raped his nine year old sister also. Like ten times before I woke up. The most horrible about this dream was how I chased that little girl around as she tried to hide from me.

This is one of the reasons why I hate sleeping. This is why I stay up late at night even when I'm so tired I can barely keep my head up. This is why I strongly prefer a dreamless sleep. I fucking hate dreaming, and it makes me more tired when I've woken up than I was before falling asleep. I don't get much rest from sleeping. And that is saying a lot concidering I don't get much rest from being awake either.

Lately I've been starting to have feelings for someone unobtainable again. This time I won't let me fall. If it means torturing myself with the memories of the heart break that led me to five suicide attempts in a year. I can't fall in love, I just mustn't. I made a promise, a promise worth keeping, and I don't break promises. Ever. I'm too broken for love.

Listening to "Downtrodden" by Abney Park on repeat.

Once I was complete
With the earth firm under my feet
My back was strong, my body fleet
Now I ache allover
Now I ache allover

I learned each virtue I was told
I worked hard to avoid the mold
But as I saw my life unfold
There was no place for me
There was no place for me

I've been beat, I've been broken
I asked for a place and the world has spoken
I was asleep, but now that I've woken
I preferred my dreams

I'm tired of guilt, I'm tired of crying
I'm tired of work, and I'm finished trying
I'm tired of living, and I'm scared of dying
But there is nothing else

It was hard as I begun
Each day harder it has become

When I googled the lyrics various websites had added much more text and in a different order. But listening to the song, this is what he's actually singing.

Stay strong (poem)

I was the tallest in my class
and a true misathrope
I hated my life
and lived without hope

They saw I was different
so obvious it was my fault
they could smell my fear
always time for some assault

Funny rhymes on my name
my toys where always theirs
I was hiding in the basement
away from the teachers glares

In the winter always scared
never before knew how snow
could be a deadly weapon
if I dare my face show

I lost time and my language
All I did was wrong
came home with bruses
and my parents told me:

you have to stay strong

***

Just realized I've never written a poem about me being bullied in school through ages six to ten, so I just did. Kinda hurts when I think about it... cause I haven't really thought about it as "valid" somehow. Always thought they were just teasing me with harsch jokes, without actually realizing it went much deeper than that. Oh yes, writing this autobiography has really given me a new perspective of my life. I realize I remember so much more than I first thought. It's actually kinda amazing how I can awake latent memories just through writing. Things that I wanted to forget, and things that I wanted to remember but got lost along the way.

Insomnia (poem)

I just want to curl up
under my sheets and hide
I want to go to sleep
but it hurts too much inside

To be restored by tomorrow
a rest is all I need
but my mind just spins on
repeating every word and deed

My soft cool pillow
pressed against my face
my bedroom seems out of range
and being tired is a disgrace

The early morning hours
can't hold the dark for long
when the sun comes up
I no longer feel strong

I can barely keep my chin up
yet I can't close my eyes
so aware of this state
with so many failing tries

Twisted and broken

I can't stand myself. All this shit is blocking my mind. There's too many thoughts, too many complicated philosophical questions, too much analyzing, too many emotions eating at my soul. My dark corrupted soul. I am a good person, I still believe that and I don't doubt it. My heart is good, it's just a little frozen right now, but my soul has always been a little... demonic. I shut down after one too many heartbreaks, and yeah that can happen. I just decided to not let anyone inside it, never give it to someone who doesn't already have it. It's a psychological defense mechanism, much like apathy or phobias. I don't even know if it was truly a choice I made or something that happened to me. It doesn't matter, it is what it is.

I can't break out, my mind is prison, my body is a prison. I'm broken and I don't think it's fixable, but maybe it is. I'm so used to living like this, so used to being a stranger in my own mind. So I can't even imagine what life could be like if I wasn't sick anymore. Maybe they'll come up with some radical cure for asperger, maybe I can make my borderline symtoms more manageable and go through with the sex change I need so bad. Though I think it's impossible I still think it should be doable. It could be possible, right? Maybe not the cure thingy, but the other two? I think so, or at least I think that I think so. Could it be that just hoping, wishing and working my ass off for it, could be enough?

I feel drained, like I've been pulled to pieces, soaked in water and put back together again. Well at least I've been put back together again. Trying to force myself to think positively, but it's not really working. My life sucks. Everything is meaningless. Even dying is meaningless. I don't know where I stand right now, somewhere between apathy and boredom, between hopelessness and wanting to change my situation, between eagerness and resignation. Between all emotions is only emptiness, a void between places and time.

And of course I always find out new surprises about myself. So many surprises I'm not surprised by them anymore. ”Oh, I didn't know that, *sigh* but why should I care?” It's not like it changes anything, not like it could get any worse. No, I don't learn from any of my mistakes, I know that as soon as I say ”it can't get any worse” it's like saying ”at least I can swim” a moment before you drown. It's the worst thing you can ever believe in, thinking you're at the bottom with nothing more to lose. Cause when yo're saying that, that is when you lose even more. Cause you always have something to lose, and that goes for everone. But I still think it, that it can't get any worse. I still fall for the same trap over and over again.

I realised Anna hasn't been with me since birth, she came to me when I was nine, not long after I was assaulted at school that spring in 1998. But oh well, so I probably have some sort of split personality thing going on. Right, whatever. It doesn't change anything. Right...?

I'm still scared of telling my therapist about that, afraid it would fuck up my right to have that sex change if it's stated that I have some sort of split personality thing. Cause if there's another persona in me who's female, I don't think they'll let me go through that. And that would be devastating and yet another reason for suicide. Don't think I want more reasons for that. But it's killing me to keep it a secret, cause I always have to watch out for what I say in the therapy sessions. It's hard to say how I figured something out when it was Anna who came up the idea, it's hard to say how my thoughts are running when it's actually conversations between me and Anna.

No I don't react the way I usually would when discovering new things like that. I just shrug my shoulders and the only thing that shakes me up is when Anna yells at me to fucking react you useless piece of shit, taunting me until I give in or come up with a new cleaver insult that would make her shut up. We always argue about everything, and we almost always disagree with one another. We can fight for hours until one of us finally caves in and agree to disagree. I hate being the one who gives up, and she hates being the one who gives up. That's our constant war in my head, to which she promptly replies: our head. Usually followed by something insulting. But what difference does it make if I say my head or our head? Not like anyone cares. Not like she's real or something, yet she's real to me but not to anyone else. Yeah I know that everyone thinks that, and it's not like I can prove it either. Cause I don't know either, maybe she is an actual person of her own, or maybe she's a divided part of my personality. So significantly divided I can't tell if she's real or not.

Goddamnit! See what I did there? I can't stop thinking, explaining, analysing... why can't I just stop this insane ranting? I don't like it anymore and it gives me headaches.

Driving myself insane again

17:22

Feeling better today. Fell asleep dizzy and nauseous in the early morning when it was so cold in my apartment I could see my breath after watching the first two The Saw movies and taking my second shower that day. It took me long enough to fall asleep but then I slept good until I got up around half past two and woke up feeling rested and almost a bit alert. Since then I've had a cup of tea and eight cigarettes. No make that nine. My mouth is a bit dry so I think I'll make myself another cup of tea.

19:30

Started a new account on Flashback which took three days before I could use it (stupid forum rule), so today I've posted nine messages on various threads. Wrote a reply to a guy with rape plans and fantasies where I called him a pathetic wuss who would never actually go through with it cause he's just a lovesick teenager who thinks he's such a badboy and blaming this on his asperger. I said blaming rape plans on asperger is like saying you're a thief beacause you have diabetes. Kinda funny I was the only one in that thread who actually came up with concrete facts about why he's so tragic without freaking out about his inhumanity. I love that you can come up the most insane insults and stupid remarks without being banned from there, cause everyone there does. I'm completely anonymous there of course. Kind of love that forum.

20:30

It's getting cold now. I have my window open all the time to get some air circulation, cause no matter how much I want to be able to live on breathing tobaco that isn't a very good idea. Heard rumors about oxygen is a good thing even for smokers. So it's constantly cold in my apartment, especially at night, I think it could drop to 10-15 degrees at it's coldest. I wear a warm sweater underneath a fleece robe and a teddy blanket over that. It works, except my hands reach room temperature and loses mobility, so I have them tighly clasped around a hot cup of tea every now and then.

02:19

I don't know what is wrong with the time zone setup on this blog, cause somehow I seem to go back in time when I post my entries. I think it's a four hours time warp, or something. I have to wind down somehow, cause I need to go to bed a little earlier tonight and reading weird stuff on the internet isn't gonna make me sleepier. Neither will my fucked up thoughts, fantasies and plans that are driving me insane. I'm scaring myself with that shit and right now I just want it to stop, then I can elaborate what's going on in my head when I see my therapist (or whatever her title is) tomorrow. Just hope she won't get scared of me or something... this is kinda heavy shit, but I just need to get it out of me and I don't have the courage to tell my mom about it. I know I won't find enough rest to be able to sleep unless my brain stops fucking with me.

End of entry: 02:50

Becoming everything I hate in others

Reality sucks. Today I don't wanna be in it, today I flee to Azeroth, my favourite of worlds. I'm not procrastinating, I'm running away from this ugly world where I have to pretend that I eat and sleep at night just to keep the vultures off my back. They are those who say they care, but all they do is whining and trying to solve a problem I'm no longer interested in solving.

I also dedicate this day to drinking lots of tea, listening to Abney Park's wonderful music and lots and lots of nicotine and I'm not gonna eat anything. Yeah, I'm the picture of health and don't argue with me. I just don't care anymore, I'm tired of trying and failing and trying and failing again and again and again. It's got nothing to do with inability anymore, now it's just resignation. I'm so tired of living, but don't worry, I will survive, I always do. I have no suicide plans and I'm not just saying that to make you guys worry a tad bit less - I'm saying it because it's true. I don't wanna kill myself. I wanna die, but I don't wanna go through that hazzle. Surviving a genuin suicide attempt just makes things so much worse, makes me feel like an even bigger failure. That I know all about.

Now all I do is fantasising about it, thinking of different methods than those I've already tried, with no intention of trying them out. It's just a fantasy, we all have those. Maybe most people's fantasies are less morbid than mine, maybe not. On Flashback.se I'm not the only one with twisted fantasies at least, that's for sure. But unfortunately I haven't yet found anyone with worse fantasies... yeah I'm kinda fucked up like that. But of course most of them will never ever come true, while some of them might.

I've been walking on the thin line between good and evil for quite some time now, but lately I've been walking further from the light side and closer to the dark side. And I mean, really dark messed up shit. I won't discuss this further on the blog, it's way to private for public exploitation.

The guy I met online and then in real life this Saturday, the one who fucked me so damn good I could hardly believe it - is now texting me every fucking day and today he said his mother's about to die. He wants me to come visit him in Visby without my cigarettes cause he really hates that I'm smoking. I don't wanna go there, I don't care about his feelings or dying mother. It's actually nothing to do with the cigarettes, it's the whole needyness that's annoying. Trying to figure out if I'm gonna dump my awesome Master cause he's too damn clingy. Maybe I can find another one, perhaps with less annoying emotions?

I'm tired of pretending I care about people. Sure I can understand a lot of things to some degree, and sometimes even imagine myself in their situation - but I don't care. I just don't. I don't know if my much more prominent lack of sympathy and morals has anything to do with the things I've been through, don't know if I'm that kind of person who starts hurting people beacuse I've got hurt or if it's something else going on. I seem to start enjoying making people hurt. People who don't deserve that at all, normal kind people who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm afraid of what I'm becoming and at the same time I like it. Maybe I just want to take control for once in my life and I'm too fucked up to think of a better, more satisfying way.

I dumped him. I don't wanna feel obligated to a stranger. It felt so good to say "fuck it, I don't care", can't stop smiling. Jesus christ! What's wrong with this guy? I've insulted him like ten times and he still won't fuck off. Jeez! He says I should grow up and that I'm mean. Yeah I'm fucking mean to tell him he is needy and annoying when his mother is dying, but I just don't want him hanging around my ankles like a fucking cry-baby. He's the one who should grow up, I'm not his psychiatrist. I don't wanna be anybody's psychiatrist.

Stumbled upon a thread on Flashback that said "Is there any organized groups for misanthropes?" It made me laugh real hard. I'm laughing more now, it's good. The simpliest little thing can make me cackle for minutes. It feels really liberating between all that self-hate, anxiety and rage.

My hands are so cold I'm losing mobility and it's hard to write. Just wanna see just how cold they can get, but they're already room-temperatured, so I guess I reached some kind of limit there.


INSIDE OUT

Changes interrupted
by toxic thoughts
I will damn this life
unfulfilled and speechless

This war I can never win
torn between solace and insanity
it forces me to the other side
among those I hate

Through the pain of starvation
I will stop making excuses
there's no use in pretending
it's as good as it's gonna get

It's gonna get louder
and it's already uncontrollable
and I know behind the darkness
lies a deeper monstrosity




Solace = lindring (in case someone's wondering)

Finding a middle ground

How will I ever find peace in life? My mind is so fucked up I can't even explain how I'm feeling cause it's such a mess and constantly changing. One moment I feel fine, things are going okay and my thoughts are lighter. Next moment I'm judging myself, hating who I am and tear the hole place to pieces. Then yet another moment I'm so happy and energetic and before I know it I feel life ain't worth living at all and I just wanna shut down and disappear. I'm completely worn out and just wish I could get some kind of genuine rest from myself, just for a little while. Can't I just die a little? Some sort of comatose, perhaps?

Dun dun dun...

Alright I give up. What's wrong with my brain today? I mean, apart from the usual. Don't think my borderline has ever been so present before, think I hit all ten diagnostic criteria in just one day. Suddenly I feel energetic and almost a bit manic, everything's running fast in my head and I can barely keep up with all the thoughts and I almost think I might be happy? No, too strong a word, but much closer to happy than sad anyway. Thank god I didn't reach for that knife earlier! Got some control over myself, appearently. Now that's a surprise.

...to be continued...

In pieces again

I'm broken. I'm broken. I'm broken. All these feeling just came out of nowhere, they're tearing me in pieces, I can't breathe. All this shame disgust hatred anger fear anxiety until there's nothing left of me. I turned off my phone I don't want any fucking texts or calls I don't wanna hear from anyone. I can't think, I can't speak. It's all chaos and chaos is all I am. I don't feel safe in my own apartment, I don't feel safe in this body that's supposed to be mine. Just wanna throw everything away and leave it there. I won't pick up the pieces this time cause if I don't I can't break apart again.This is what is left of me, a fucking bloody mess.

I'm shaking, shivering, my hands are colder than my desk, my heart beats heavy and it feels like I wanna puke, scream, cry or all at the same time. Trying not to turn to self injury again but the impulse is so strong, don't know how much more I can take.

It's just today, it's just one day... but I know it goes deeper than that. I know I've starting to fall again, but I didn't wanna see it and I didn't really but I know. My sleep is fucked up and I've basically stopped eating cause it's disgusting, I have no apetite what so ever.



 
and I just know somehow it will be like this for the rest of my life

Details without details

Oh. My. God. That must have been the strangest thing I've done in a long time. And one of the most risk-taking impulses I've given in to. I've wanted to do this for quite some time, but I've been afraid to because of really damn good reasons. This isn't something you just do.

I hooked up with a stranger from QX for sex. No, really, I did. We started chatting on the night between Wednesday and Thursday. He seemed really kind and we wanted the same thing, and when I first spoke with him on the phone we realised we had even more in common. It didn't stop me that he's in my parents age, and has a slight brain damage. I said, well I'm not perfect either! When he came to my apartment we were so nervous, but quickly got more comfortable, and damn it was good! Jesus, I didn't know I had that in me.

Tillbakablick

Jag har inte kunnat äta på nästan tre dygn nu, sist jag åt var på morgonen i lördags. Igår åt jag ingenting, drack bara några klunkar vatten. Idag fick jag ner ett glas juice och ett glas mjölk i alla fall.

Har börjat röka inne i lägenheten, mycket just för att jag faktiskt får det, men jag har inte fattat hur jag ska få fönstren att stanna öppnade när jag öppnar dem, utan att stå och hålla upp dem, så det blir lätt ganska rökigt här inne. Det svider i ögonen och jag får konstant i mig tobaksrök, vilket inte bara är negativt. Den största anledningen till detta beslut är att jag vill kunna röka och skriva på datorn samtidigt, och det är ju inte så att man tar med sig en stationär dator, 30 tums-skärm, mus och tangentbord utomhus för att röka tjugo gånger om dagen, precis.

Jag skriver väldigt mycket. Har fått ihop ett tiotal kapitel i ordbehandlaren på datorn och har säkert minst lika mycket handskrivet i collegeblock. Än så länge är allt i en enda röra och kapitlen är inte sorterade i den ordning de ska vara, utan i den ordning jag har skrivit dem, och de flesta är inte kompletta. Sedan jag hittade resten av mina dagböcker som sträcker sig från slutet av 2009 fram till januari 2012, har jag börjat känna mig redo att skriva om det hittills jävligaste året i mitt liv: augusti 2010 till oktober 2011, då jag blev fruktansvärt olyckligt kär under mitt halvår i Uppsalas folkhögskola Wik, och följande halvår försökte ta mitt liv fem gånger.

Jag inser att jag fortfarande inte är över varken Tomb eller Mattias, trots att jag helt brutit kontakten med Tomb och nästan helt med Mattias. Det river fortfarande stora hål att skriva om när jag dränkte mig i alkohol, knaprade sjuka mängder smärtstillande och såg självmordet som min ända utväg då jag inte hade någonting att leva för, och när mitt hjärta gick i bitar fick jag en anledning att dö. Då jag lovade mig själv att aldrig mer bli kär igen och hur många gånger jag än försökte dö blev det aldrig så.

Jag försvann in i ett tomrum i tiden och är fortfarande väldigt distanserad, håller fortfarande vid mitt löfte och ibland så tror jag faktiskt att jag dog den där natten på sjukhuset den 29 augusti 2011, att jag bara inte har fattat det än.

Kap. 18 - Ja, du läste rätt

Jag har gjort en del konstiga saker i mitt liv. Vid ett tillfälle stötte jag på en kille på en chattsida som frågade om jag kunde hjälpa honom med en sak. Han var en total främling som sade att han var rullstolsburen och i ett sådant läge att han var gravt handikappad. Jag vet inte om jag gjorde det av välgörenhet eller om jag faktiskt blev tänd på idén, men jag gick faktiskt hem till honom och han hade varit ärlig om sitt tillstånd. Jag kände mig trygg på det sättet att av alla män man kan träffa från nätet, så var han garanterat inte en av de som kunde vara farliga förövare. Det han bad mig om var att ge honom en orgasm. Hans första orgasm någonsin. Han var 28 år och hade aldrig fått orgasm. Nå, det var något av en upplevelse även för mig.

Jag minns också ett tillfälle när jag var nere på stan mitt i natten och på väg till en nattklubb och någonstans på gatan mötte jag en man som var uppenbart full och troligen hemlös. Han smickrade mig massvis och jag tyckte att han var ganska het för att vara en alkoholiserad, förmodad hemlös, medelåldersman i slitna kläder. Han frågade om han fick kyssa mig och utan att svara jag kysste jag honom bara. Flera gånger. Det var nästan att jag var på väg att gå längre, innan jag kom på att det kanske inte skulle vara en särskilt bra idé med tanke på hans tillstånd.

En sak till. När jag var inlagd på Ulleråker och hade permission åkte jag till innerstaden för att loda runt, köpa cigg och njuta av solens värme. När energin tog slut satte jag mig på en parkbänk och åt en macka från Pressbyrån och tände en cigarett. Några minuter senare dyken en man upp och sätter sig bredvid mig. Vi diskuterar hur svårt det är att leva i samhället när man inte kan få jobb och bor i en skokartong någonstans. Efter en stund kom två till personer som kände den här mannen. De räckte över ett band till honom som han lade över axeln som det stod "hemlös" på och en bössa att ha pengar i. Oh, shit... hann jag tänka och var ganska snabb med att pinna iväg därifrån och tillbaka till dårhuset.

När jag läser vad jag skrivit är det plötsligt ganska förståeligt att jag passade så bra in på ett dårhus. Det låter kanske konstigt, men jag ser även något friskt och fint över allt detta. Jag kan tydligen bli attraherad av och på lika villkor respektera någon som är gravt handikappad, inte skulle neka intimitet med någon för att denne bor på gatan eller ser ut som en trashank, och att jag tydligen har en del gemensamt med hemlösa. Jag dömer inte, utan ser alla som likar med lika mycket personlighet, känslor och värde oavsett allt det jag nämnde. Vågar nog påstå att jag är ganska öppensinnad.

Running from myself (trans)

I was nine when I first found out
that I wanted to look like a guy
but if I wanted it so much
why didn't I try?

Couldn't understand why
being me didn't feel fine
Jelous of boys and in love with them too
wanted their body instead of mine

I was sixteen years old
when I knew I was trans
but too scared of who I was
I never took the chance

For three more years
I tried to be someone else
knowing for well
that diversity sells

I was nineteen years old
when I finally realized
I'd been hiding in plain sight
and so much I had sacrificed




Soundtrack: 30 Seconds To Mars - The Kill (Bury Me)