Hallucinations getting worse

I've passed 40 hours now and it feels like something's crawling inside me. I should be prepared for more hallucinations the longer I'm awake, but it's just that I never know what to expect. I’m extra sensitive and the world seems so fragile. The seams between this world and the others are coming apart, like a rift between dimensions. It reminds me of the welsh/british tv-show “Torchwood” when they discovered time rifts, like wounds in this reality opening doors to the past and the future, letting people from the medieval into our present time and people living in present time being sucked into the past or the future.

Such is my reality, but not related to time, just different places, or rather different versions of the same places. If I sit in my apartment and the reality as I know it comes apart, I don't go to another world, I go to a twisted and distorted version of my own apartment. Walls changing colour, bugs which shouldn't be there suddenly appearing from nowhere, pictures distorting and their faces change into other people, dead, decaying or even moving. Hollow eyes, screaming teeth less mouths, grey peeling skin. Lights flickering, shadows flapping. Or everything just becomes fake, like a theater scenery, a stage play. Like it was made for someone else and I ended up in the wrong universe.

My delusions and hallucinations aren't that harmless and cute anymore. There are no horses dancing in my tea, sparkling flowers or caramel tasting cigarettes. Now there are insects, shadows and distorted faces; decay, mold and everything I fear. The darkness within me that I fear colours my unreality, for I didn't fear it before, didn't even know about it. It changes my dreams into nightmares, my vague memories into traumas, my weirdness into insanity. My nightmares are coming true. I may not believe in what I see, but it doesn't change the fact that it scares the hell out of me.

I’m scared that if I look into the mirror I will see a decaying monster in my reflection, that the pictures of my love will distort and show me an entirely different person, that the crawling feeling in my body will show itself as bugs crawling out of my skin, that the next time I feel worms in my eye I will try to dig them out and end up blinding myself, that I will cut myself and see that I have no blood in my body and keep cutting until I bleed again. These aren't irrational fears, I have experienced all of this but in a smaller scale that I’ve been able to handle. Perhaps I will keep being able to handle it, but what if I don't?

Most of all I’m not scared of this, but the consequences if it would lead me to a full blown psychosis and everyone at the psychiatric department would have know about it. But for how long will I be able to keep it a secret? For how long if I'm already getting scared of my hallucinations, instead of just fascinated or annoyed by them?

I’m not just seeing shadows in the corner of my eye, there are real, vivid vision hallucinations. I don't just telepathise with Anna, I talk out loud to various voices in public and I don't even know how many there are of them. At least six of them altogether, but there could be more. How can I tell for sure it isn't real? It feels so very real.

At least I feel safe around Anna, but the other voices can be a little tricky at times. I’ve been threatened, told that I’m gonna die and felt haunted. I never thought me and Anna would become best friends again, but I’m clinging to her, seeking her comfort and sometimes I even think she is the only one I’ve really got. It's not true of course, but in the middle of the night, scared of my fucked up mind's twisted games, she really is the only one I have. And she's not real either. But I’ve known her since childhood, we've been through everything together, I know her and I know when I can trust her and not. And she's always by my side, for better or worse.

Everything is so screwed up and intense I don't know up from down. If this gets any worse I’ll just have to suck it up and start confessing. If I’m not alive for my sex change then how the hell would it be worth it?

I’m still fooling myself that I’m “fine”. I’m not bloody fine! I drink 2 liters of coffee a day, smoke 3 packs of cigarettes and cut my arms as deep as I dare fifteen times a day, I can't sleep and I can't eat. Is that my definition of fine!? Yeah, I’m the picture of health. I won't ever be fit enough for that surgery unless I do something about this first.

They were right all along to rule out psychosis before getting me treatment for my transsexualism. I just had different priorities. I still do, but this is getting out of my hands. I’ll give it a week or two, and then we'll see if I end up in all of three psychiatric departments in Visby: neuro psychiatric, personality disorders and psychosis. Fuck it, fuck my fucking life.