Death and dreams

TRIGGER WARNING, this will be an entry mostly about death and suicide, but with glimpses of light:
This is so stupid... I'm so stupid... but I'm gonna enter the Swedish Church again. I left it about a year ago and now I want to re-enter. Why, oh why? Because I want to be buried at a graveyard when I die. For someone who is young and relatively healthy I sure plan a lot around the circumstances of my own death.

I do have a donation card in my wallet as well, and have had for quite some time now. Not that I think any of my organs would be worth donating, but still. You never know. That my liver is in a too poor condition because of all the drugs I've taken over the years, my lungs are filled with tar and if I take an overdose my heart would be useless too. But I'm gonna jump from a building so that might leave all my organs smashed to pieces. I dunno.

I don't know for sure where I want to be buried though, but I'm thinking in Uppsala, where most of the people I know live, so that they can come and visit me. I'm thinking maybe I should even kill myself there. Gotland would just be too impractical for everyone except my parents, but then I'm pretty sure they would be bitchy about going to the main country to bury their child. If I'm even allowed to be buried in a town I don't live in, because the church I'd be a member of is obviously here on Gotland... Hmm, gotta do some research.

Yes, apparently I can get buried in another city, if there is space, which I think it will be somewhere in Uppsala, I'm not picky about the exact graveyard or anything. I'll leave some decisions to my loved ones, things that are not important to me.

No, I'm NOT thinking of trying to kill myself just yet, I'm just planning the practical stuff so that I won't have to think about it when I actually am suicidal, okay? I'm taking this shit seriously, it's not gonna be an impulse thing and I want it to be right. If you keep on reading, you will know that I don't want to die.

Is that wrong of me? To plan my funeral and other circumstances around my death, just because I'm sure I'll end up committing suicide sometime between ages 27 and 28? A lot of people plan this stuff without being suicidal or terminally ill.

Sometimes it feels like I am terminally ill though, counting down the days to my death, knowing that I just have a few years left. It's like cancer without the physical, it's like mental cancer slowly killing me and it's just a matter of time before it kills me for definite.

I don't want to die, it's just that I know that I will. And it's horrible, having that hanging over me. That there's no way I can escape it. I feel trapped in a cage, just waiting to be slaughtered and I can't free myself from that cage, it's locked and barred and all I have to do it wait for my cruel fate. But then I will be free, and I suppose that's what keeps me going, sadly. That knowing I can never be free from that cage, I also know that by letting it happen, I will be freed.

From this life of agony and mental torment, I've been suicidal, wanting to escape it all, since I was 4 years old. And now, knowing that someday it will happen, can be soothing in a way. Yet, as you can probably tell, it also makes me appreciate life more. Isn't that ironical? Maybe it's the same for people who are terminally ill, that their cruel fate also makes them appreciate the little time they have left in life.

Is it awful of me, to compare myself to people who are terminally ill? I feel robbed of my life, stripped of my freedom to live. I'm mourning the life I will never have. I will never have a family, I'll never be able to study at a university or something, I won't see my friends' or any own children grow up, I will never grow old, and will probably not be able to get a driver's licence or travel anywhere outside of Sweden again.

And it sucks, but I'm trying to accept it. The older I get, the closer I get to it, the more I want to hold on to life. When I was 15 and got my vision, I didn't care much about it. I thought I was gonna die between ages 15 and 22, at any time and I lived a desperate life, tried to get as much experiences as I possibly could before it was too late.

Until I stood there in my rented apartment, lost and heartbroken with absolutely no hopes or reasons to live. I had turned 22 but I felt like I was living on borrowed time when I tried to kill myself in August 2011. I had figured out that my cause of death would be suicide, and not accident or murder as I first thought. After that, every day, every moment, I thought I was dead already, that nothing was real.

Then I thought I was safe, for a while, before I realised that 15 to 22 was not my age, but a time of date. I got a new vision, or the old one improved, that I was gonna kill myself before I turned 30 at the exact time of 15:22. A true self fulfilling prophecy that I could not escape. It is going to come true no matter how I twist and turn it, there's no way to avoid it.

Desperate and scared last summer, I asked my god, Satan, exactly how much longer I have and he said: "Three, at most four more years" and I cried myself to sleep that night. I am not going to turn 28 years old, and I've always, always thought that 27 is the perfect age. Coincidence? I don't think so.

And then the band Pretentious Moi sings "Your perfect age deceives you" in their song called "The Garden"... you can't imagine how breathless I was when I first heard that. They have an affinity for singing words that speak directly to my heart, it almost scares me how they seem to know me better than I know myself.

Well, this became a long and depressing entry... I'm haunted, not by a cruel past, but by a cruel future. I can't shut up about it, because it's suffocating me. Not every day, not even every week. Sometimes I even manage to forget about it, but it never goes away. It's becoming more threatening and impending each day. It's only half a year before I turn 26 years old and then I will only have one birthday left.

I'm trying to pack in as much excitement and experiences as I possibly can in my situation. Still, there are things that I cannot rush or stress. Like getting my book published and making K fall in love with me. But if I can't have K, I will steal a kiss from him and say good bye to the world. If I can't get my book published, I'll put it up everywhere online I can think of to let as many people as possible to share it with me. Which ever way, I won't give up until my last breath, I will do everything right until my time is up. I will live and I will do it as good as I possibly can.

Remember what I said about suicide not being a choice? I've been driven by madness for an entire life and my fate is a self fulfilling prophecy that I can't escape. Don't fucking put that on my headstone that it was a choice. I'll haunt you and give you nightmares. I'll probably be lingering here for a while after I'm gone, making sure you're doing okay, and comfort you if I can. Before I head off to my next destination, wherever that will be. Hopefully not to a place even more awful than this life. Hopefully somewhere I can be happy.

But I don't want to end an entry like this. I probably brought you to tears and I'm sorry if I did that, it wasn't my intention. I just needed to get it out of me and off my aching chest. But with all of that said, I've decided that I'm gonna go for the sexual reassignment surgery and get myself a dick. I need that, and I have to listen to my heart. It screams, yearns, longs, aches for it. My stupid mind worrying about complications can just shut the fuck up. It's worth it, it's bloody worth it. Now, I can end this entry.