Seeing clear

I don't wish to be happy. Is that weird of me? I want an interesting life worth living, that's all. And love, I want true love, but that isn't the same as happiness. I'd miss my sadness if I'd lose it and I don't want to lose it over something as boring as happiness. What has happiness ever brought anyone?

I believe there could lie some kind of wisdom in that statement, that I don't want happiness because I don't think I could learn anything from it. I've had happiness. Not in this life, but I've sure had it and after thousands of years or at least hundreds, what did I ever learn from it? Nada.

I've never thought about it this way before, why am I so damn slow? Of course that is why I can't be happy in this life! I took the crash course to learn about being (or trying to be) human, I haven't got time for fluffy jolly feelings. I'm not meant for it. I'm meant for suffering because it's through suffering that we learn. I might be ancient, but I'm not omniscient. Not by far, and I don't think I ever will be. But it's a work in progress, so to say. The meaning of my entire existence. It's that simple, it's that hard.

And maybe it's one heck of a realisation, that I don't even want happiness. That one thing that everyone is supposed to want more than anything. I seek wisdom, knowledge, a deeper understanding of things above everything but love.

Happiness is just a feeling, a state of mind. How can it be an experience worth dying for, worth living for? When there's so much more? And I know that I want to keep this eating disorder because of what I could learn from it. I want the experience, I want the pain and I want to be close to dying from it.

My prophecy tells me that I won't die from it, I already know how I'm going to die. I've known that for 10 years now. At the time 15:22 sometime during 2016 or 2017. However, I feel like my eating disorder could play a part in my death, even if it's not gonna be the actual cause. My sadness will kill me. And isn't it a bit ironical that I hold on to it so much then? But I'm embracing it, I accept my fate. I have become my sadness.

As life flashes by

Will I look back upon my life when I die and wonder why I wasted my youth on loneliness and mending my broken heart? Or will I look back and think, shit I really did manage to live a whole life in barely 28 years? I'm divided by those two polar extremes, one part of me always worried that I'm not living my life to the fullest and then there's this other part that tells me that I truly have lived my life to the fullest.

At the best of my ability, something deep inside me tells me that haven't I cried, laughed, screamed, dreamed and done everything I possibly could have in spite of everything? I'm broken, I was born broken, but it's never stopped me. Taking a butt load of medication every day for years didn't stop me from drinking and experimenting with illegal drugs.

Being well aware of the dangers of STD's, rape and ending up pregnant didn't stop me from sleeping with everyone who ever wanted me. Living with this damaged mind of mine didn't stop me from trying to study and even work for short moments. Not being able of taking care of myself didn't stop me from trying to live on my own for 3 years.

Being a very impulsive person didn't stop me from getting a thought through tattoo, piercings that left scars, and other scars. Being a mental fuck up and a transsexual didn't stop me from dating and going after people way out of my league. I've been dumped and I've dumped others. Been accused of cheating.

Had threesomes, played with BDSM, transitioned from female to male, believed I've had every possible sexual orientation before settling for panromantic grey area asexual, kissed a celebrity, been to concerts, taken loads of medication all with interesting results and side effects, been bullied, been sexually assaulted and raped on Valentine's Day.

I've become a heavy smoker, been alcoholic, lived in the country and in a city, found a soul mate in my best friend since we were 13 years old, fallen hard and hopelessly for people who never even once considered me and thus I have been in love although unrequited, been through an abusive relationship, had pets, rode horses, had virtually every hair colour, been overweight as well as medium weight and soon also underweight.

I've gotten good grades in art and language, learned how to draw and sew my own clothes, learned how to make fake dreads and played with make up, been living both as male and female, tried to learn how to play guitar, I revolted against my bullies in elementary school, had the best teachers, had the most supportive mother... the list can go on forever.

But you could definitely say that I have lived. Despite the constant anxiety, the isolation and the suicidal tendencies which by the way also are life experiences. But have I lived enough? My life could end at any moment now if K really does die cause so would I if he does. And I mean that literally. I will end my life if he dies, that's what I mean when I say that I can't live without him.

I imagine sitting on a very high roof top one day with a final suicide letter in my hand, wearing the best clothes I have and thinking about what happened to my life. Did I really live it, or was I just waiting for that miracle all along and everything else was just empty activities? Did anything ever mean anything at all? Did I come here by mistake, will death finally take me back home to where I belong? Was it all for nothing, or was it everything?

Hanging by a thread

My neighbour, the guy living right on top of me, was just rushed away in an ambulance. I saw it all from my living room window. What worries me is not his health though, but how little I care about if he'll be coming back home from the hospital again or not, that is to say if he survives or dies. By the way, he is old and this place is mostly like sort of a retirement home, I wouldn't think of him as probably dying if he was any younger than the 70-80-ish I would guess that he is.

But shouldn't I care, at least a little bit? Have I lost touch with humanity so to the point that no human life is of any kind of value to me except from those select few that I happen to know and care about personally? I knew I've gotten a little bit colder, but damn...

No, I feel nothing at all but perhaps a bit of curiosity. Will I get a new neighbour if he dies? Someone who spits a bit less off the balcony and doesn't hopelessly try to interact with me when I really just want to be left alone which by the way is 100% of the time?

I have gotten colder, I just don't know what exact degree. First I just stopped watching the news on TV, stopped reading the newspaper. My friends pretty much abandoned me around the time I moved here and I in turn abandoned them. Or was it the other way around? Not everyone of course, but pretty much the majority of everyone I know.

It was already before that, about a year before I moved here. I was pretty lonely in Gottsunda in Uppsala as well, my last apartment there. I don't remember much of 2012, except from the apartment I rented for free. Don't ask me how I got away with that, technicalities. They never sent me any bills. Anyway, from the end of 2011 until I moved to my parent's place on Gotland in June or if it was July 2012 I think, I was in a pretty lonely place.

There were the random parties, but I don't remember having any friends, or my boyfriend at the time, over to my home. I must have visited others though. Yes, I did that. But it always felt one way, you know. Like I was just blending in with the crowds and no one wanted to see me one on one.

Eventually I shut down, shut out the people that I was living for. It's true, I only stayed in Uppsala for the sake of living close to my friends who didn't seem to care if I lived there or not. So the loneliness, I brought it with me when I moved here. But then it intensified, became hostile. It's almost like the loneliness inside me is like a beast, a monster of some kind, that grows more hostile with time as I let it roam free, unchecked.

Not only do I no longer care about anyone except maybe at most 10 people on this entire planet, I came to despise humanity altogether. I want war and mayhem, I want any kind of government in I don't care which country to create massive mass destruction weapons and erase the entire world. Just wipe it all out, me included. I was hoping for the world to end in 2012, but as many others I did not believe it actually would.

Now, there are 5 people that I truly love in this world, perhaps another 5 that I'd care if something happened to them. I don't care about anyone else, I really, really don't. I've become cold and cynical, bitter and tired of life. And I know I'm not the only one feeling this way. I wish I could take you with me and we could go somewhere far from the rest of the world. To another world, in whatever sense I'm not going to specify even if I had the slightest idea. There aren't that many options, but option, we do have.

I don't know what I'm getting at, you have your own lives now. I'm just a part of them, not the reason why you go on living. I wouldn't even want that much, it's way too much to ask of and a huge responsibility that I wouldn't be able to handle. No, you go on live your lives. I just try to matter to some degree at least.

But it's hard. I feel like I'm stuck here now. Not on this island, but in this situation. I won't let anyone in, I certainly won't let anyone out. I cling to, hold on to old memories, fantasies, a future that may or may not be real some day. I'm not living. I haven't been living for a long time now. It feels like I left something else behind me that day I moved here from Uppsala, something that I won't be able to find just around the corner. My life. Any kind of purpose to go on breathing.

No, I'm still not suicidal, but you know me, I wouldn't tell you if I was. I have my reasons for never telling you. But right now... now I'm just breathing, exhaling and inhaling without much reason at all to do so. I'm trying to kill myself slowly while waiting for a miracle to happen, waiting to be saved. The only thing, or person rather, that could save me. I'm waiting for him, and in the meantime, I'm just hanging by a thread really. Maybe you already knew it, that I'm falling back again, slowly drowning in what I call the darkness.

A neighbour might die tonight, and I'm worried about a miracle that may never happen, that I might never get to truly live, I worry about my own life that is slipping away at the same time.

Ten years

It's quite an anniversary in January for me. I don't remember exact dates but it will be exactly 10 years ago that I: got depressed and stopped practising karate, got my chronic tension headache that's been with me ever since, started cutting myself, had my heart broken for the first time, realised that I'm transgender, the voice in my head became my enemy for the first time and I really started to fail in school.

January 2005 was probably the worst month in my life. And then followed a decade of pain and misery. I can honestly say, in a month, that I've been in this misery for a full decade. There's something oddly comforting in that. Something that makes me smile, a bitter smile, but I can't put my finger on exactly what that is.

I discovered a lot about myself that year, 2005 and in the end of 2004. About who I really am, everything from sexuality to the deepest, darkest secrets I will never reveal. I got in contact with the psychiatry for the first time that following summer, or maybe it wasn't until the fall, I don't remember the details. No cross that, I can only remember the details, not the big picture.

To be honest I never thought I'd live this long, not 10 years ago when I was diagnosed with Asperger, made my first 2 suicide attempts, got borderline psychotic and swore that I couldn't survive without the razor blades. When the war in my head became both mental and physical. When I tried to study in another city and it failed so miserably, I think I dissociated for 3 months. I had so much pressure on myself, I wanted to live a normal life with the abnormal brain that I had.

I was 16 years old through most of 2005 and I will turn 26 in April next year. 10 years have almost passed now and it does feel rather unreal. Maybe that's why I'm smiling and shaking my head - in disbelief. For all that's happened since then. Since I fell down a dark hole and I haven't been able to climb out of it.

I just kept hitting new bottoms and falling into more darkness, I never had a chance to learn how to live, and somewhere in that maze, I forgot to care. About life, about learning. All that mattered was surviving and sometimes dying, escaping that maze. Now, it's like I've reached another bottom and instead of trying to climb out I've accepted my cruel destiny and I've made myself an almost cosy home down here.

I'm no longer trying to learn how to live or fight for my sorry life. I say let it come and kill me, I don't care. Maybe I'm only still seeing my shrink for outward appearances, to make people believe that I still care about getting better. I can't get better, 10 bloody years down the line, it's fair to say that I'm a hopeless case. I wouldn't know what or who I am without the darkness. Maybe I wouldn't even like that person?

I'm not fighting anymore, but somehow I still don't think I've truly given up. I just let it have at it while I'm taking a forever long cigarette break and just won't go out into battle again. I'm sorry for all the metaphors, I really don't know how else to say it. That I don't care what happens to me now, that this ED, this chronic headache, my self harm and what more and what not, can kill me if they want to. I'm just here for the show. I'm not scared anymore. I'm not scared of dying, I'm not scared of living.

Is that bad? That I'm completely just giving into madness and let it ravage me however it pleases to? Maybe after 10 years I've only come to learn one thing, and that is that it can always get worse. And worse it gets. It's changed me, but I've forgotten who I was before.

Wrecked lives

The only evil I can tell is from God above, and whoever or whatever put me here. I don't think much about revenge though. But if I'd ever come across those who wronged me, and if I would even recognise them, I don't know what I'd do. Attack, fight, threat, murder. Or just sink in under the floor, dissociate and disappear. Evaporate.

But what about the kids? Well, they're adults now, but they were kids when it happened, should I plot revenge on them too, or just invite them for a drink and chat about it? As you can probably tell I'm fairly divided when it comes to that particular memory.

They messed me up badly, but then I went and did the same thing to someone else. I'm just as bad as them. Just like that, children have no sense of right and wrong and I've got first hand experiences that proves how true that statement is, and I'm still just as clueless because of that. Maybe I just want to see if they're still messed up too.

Maybe that could even bring us together, like "No hard feelings I know why you did it cause as soon as you fucked me up I went and did the same thing to someone else. Thank you for the most unpleasant experience of my entire life that I can't even bring up the courage to tell my shrink about and I also think my memory of it is quite fuzzy could you perhaps fill in the gaps?" Like really, that wouldn't be such a bad idea actually, if they could fill in the gaps for me. But then again, I'd probably poison their drinks and then dump their lifeless bodies in a ditch somewhere.

Perhaps it's best if we never cross paths again. I don't know, I just have a sensation it would be a bad idea altogether. Some things in my past are just too dark for me to think logically around. They just bring out more darkness in me and there's how I can't tell if something is evil about me or not. Was it evil what I did to that other child when I was 9-10 years old? I don't even remember which year it was, how soon after what happened to me. Did they put evil in me, those kids that are adults now?

They should be around 23-24 years old today. If they're still alive, which I just presume that they are. Would probably have known if they're dead. Would have been all over the news, and not a single person that lived in Alunda at that time would have missed it. Oh well, if they end up on the news one day you know who to suspect.

But only one other person knows who they are. Don't tell the cops on me if things go sour, okay? You know what they did to me. I can't promise anything, but chances are that I'll never see them again and that I won't kill them. But you never know. I'm not planning on ever seeing them again, I won't seek after them, or the guy that raped me. They're buried in the past now, but I keep digging them up like this. And even if I could tell what is good or evil, I probably still would contemplate revenge whether I'd actually go for it or not.

I'm a demon incarnate and a Satanist who happens to worship Satan, don't expect me to ever be able to tell if what those kids did to me was evil, wrong or simply human nature. My past has been a bit spotty, spottier than anyone will ever know (but who knows how much I'll end up telling K about myself sometime in the future) and I'll always keep wondering about those things. What others did to me, and what I did to others. Some of those things weren't even that long ago. There's darkness within me, that much I can say.

What's good about it though, is that I'm not afraid of other people's darknesses. I know that what you did or didn't do, doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. In fact, to me, there are no bad people in this entire world. That's what I mean, that's spot on. That's why I can't say good or bad person, cause to me it's all just grey scales and perhaps even a bit of colour, but no one is good nor bad. Not a single soul. Not even the rapists or the paedophiles. Perhaps though, if I truly was what others seem to describe as a good person, I wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself for what I've done.

So maybe it's good that I'm not exactly what should be considered a good person? I could have died last year because of so many reasons and the trans team not giving me what I wanted was just what happened to be on top of the list. That was what I couldn't live with about myself, not the memories that came flashing back of the two most awful things I've ever done in my entire life, and believe me, they were awful, subjectively and objectively.

But no one's gonna know. I put my finger on my lips and hush to protect my own sorry ass when what I should do is protecting the people that I hurt. Give them justice or something. But you see, despite my low self esteem, my ego is the size of Mars and I do like to avoid making things complicated. I let them suffer in their own silence for what happened, I wrecked lives and what's really the bugger is, who's life am I wrecking the most: theirs or mine?

The damage I do

So uhm, what to write here today... can start with the boring stuff: the lock to my apartment door has now been permanently changed and I (hopefully) don't have to worry about getting locked out anymore.

Good stuff: my ID-card is now finished and I'm gonna pick it up on Tuesday or Wednesday, and it will say that I'm male and have my new personal identity number on it. Yay! It still makes me smile just thinking about it.

Weird stuff: I've noticed that my digestion is going way better since I started consuming oatmeal porridge like crazy. I get fibres and things are just going real smooth. I've never really thought about how good it can be to have a high fibre diet. That it's good for weight loss too. I get about 20-30 grams per day now, which actually happens to be the recommended amount, though I am getting little else.

Depressing stuff: I'm still fat and I hate my body more than ever. I can't even stand to look at it. I binged last night and I'm denying it somehow.

Annoying stuff: I didn't think of weighing my dreads so I don't know how much that adds to my actual weight... so now I have to go even lower because I still need to see the number 52 in kg on the scale. Nice surprise when I take them out again later on, I hope. That I'll weigh less than the scale has told me, I mean.

Funny stuff: Nope, can't think of anything.

And to finish it off: I sort of plan to fast on Sunday or Monday or both days to get down at least half a kilo. And I need to fix this about the binges, I really really need to. They're destroying me, both physically and mentally.

Did you know it actually hurts physically when I eat more than just child-like portions nowadays? And shifting between literally starving and shoving down food like there's no tomorrow just can't be good for my body. It feels like I'm welcoming digestive problems. And then let's not get into the massive amount of emotional damage it does. I just can't live that way, I'd rather starve to death, so that's what I'm working on.

Trying to be more active here...

So today hasn't been very exciting. I lost 0,2 kg over the time I slept today (8 hours) and I'm down to 54,9 kg. I still feel the need to hide my body when I go outside; in baggy sweatpants and my big, long, black jacket/coat and preferably I only go out when it's dark. Hopefully, I just have to, have lost enough weight to get some confidence back by Tuesday, cause I need to be in Visby on that particular day. And can't go there in sweatpants.

What weight that would be I don't know, but at most 54, more likely 53 kg. If I continue to lose weight every day like this it will be possible for me to be at a more tolerable weight by Tuesday, since it's almost a whole week until then so. Did you guys realise that it's only 3 weeks left until Christmas Eve?! Cause I just did.

My current goal weight for Christmas is "as low as possible" but at most 52 kg. I just need to at least be underweight and hit some kind of goal or I'll feel like a complete and utter failure. (As if I don't already). Cause I wanted to be at 47 kg by then, but seeing as it's only 3 weeks left... that's not gonna be possible to reach.

Oh, well. Then I've also put my dreads back in to my hair just now. It was easier this time and now I know which techniques are best. It still took me a bunch of hours though, but didn't keep track of time. I just don't care to count exactly everything in my life. Some things just has to be approximate.

Cause I'm so obsessed with numbers already, they're taking over enough of my life as it is. I don't need to make it worse by counting hours or other stupid things like cigarettes or whatever. Keep it on a "need to know" basis.

I finished my short story yesterday, that one about a transsexual, goth vampire that no one cared to read. Not that I care about praise or anything, I don't know. I was thinking of posting it on tumblr as well, but thinking maybe that would somehow be outing myself because the main character is a transsexual man, like me.

I'm not out about my gender situation on tumblr, but it's been a lot more about that lately there. I follow 3 or 4 other transguys and they've all been reblogging stuff about it. I wonder when a confession will find its way out to my dashboard. I wouldn't mind that of course, but I'd still hesitate to open myself up about it too. Even if... no, I can't say it.

I'm comfortable being sort of stealth to most people these days. Someone once said something to me that sticks to me still. They simply said "be careful who you out yourself to" or something close to it, I can't find the most accurate translation right now, nor does it matter. I didn't think about it much at first, or well I did, but not that way.

What else... yeah I just started watching a new tv-show that I might or might not like. It's called "Red band society" and I only started watching it because it depicts a person with an eating disorder. It's quite new, created this year, and it's about a bunch of kids/teenagers at a hospital where they kinda live for a lot of different reasons. Like they hang and go to school there while in treatment for random things.

Oh well, I guess that's it for today. I'm still embroidering and watching "Angel", playing WoW and trying to lose weight. Everything is the same.

Save me once again

I haven't been writing here in a while because most of what I write is just the same nonsense or too private or too private nonsense. I have nothing new to report. I've a had a couple of lousy days of weight gain and desperation, binging and self hatred. I feel like I'm losing all control. Having an eating disorder is supposed to make not capable of eating, right? I wish, I so fucking wish. Instead I am eating and hating myself for it. I'd rather not being able to eat at all.

So I have no idea what to do at all. I'm stuck in this awful binging cycle even though it's not technically binges, cause it's too little. But I wrecked my metabolism so the smallest thing makes me gain. The day before yesterday I was at 54,3 kg, ate around 1.000 calories, yesterday I had gone up to 54,9 kg and ate around 1.000 calories and today I was at 55,6 kg. I eat half of my daily recommended intake and gain steadily. I hate myself so much because of this and I have no fucking idea what so ever how the hell I'm supposed to lose weight now.

I'm just stuck in self hatred but I do get support from all where around so I'm feeling a little bit better now. The crew, K, strangers on tumblr, the eating disorder forum. I'm not entirely alone and people do care. So yeah, this is me feeling better, I was quite a mess earlier today. I couldn't even tell the crew why I was so upset, I just didn't want to talk about it and what would that have brought anyway? They were just curious. And I hate it when people want to know my problems just out of curiosity, like I'm not here to entertain you.

And it wouldn't have made me feel any better, I've learned that now, some people are ju better off not knowing what is bugging me. Look, if they want to comfort me they can just as well do that without knowing what's up. I can tell when they try to mask their curiosity with care.

A few hours later and I still haven't posted this. I'm living on oatmeal porridge and nuts for today and praying to Satan that it won't make me gain. I've thought about it lately, or well, it just struck me earlier today, that about me selling my soul for a better looking body. What if I'll get it, that perfect or close to perfect body, or even worse, what if I already have it, but I'm too eating disordered to be able to enjoy it?

He's so fucking shady, Satan. Yeah, and I have noticed that before. Like how precise do I have to be about my prayers exactly?! He can read my mind, for crying out loud! Shouldn't have to give all the details. That I want to be able to not hate my body, I want to be thin and look good, I want a proportionate sized ass, I want to look like a dude even naked.

He did save my life but he hasn't been doing much of that as of lately. Perhaps because I haven't been wanting to be saved. Not by a shady entity who's too busy fucking up the few prayers I send his way, anyway. I haven't been much into practice of my shady religion lately, or well, for over a year now. No practice at all actually. I totally skipped Halloween for instance and that's a very important Satanic holiday. I was too fucked up to care anymore. I still am.

He's still my one and only god though, even though he's fucked up more times than he's saved me. But he has saved me and that's what's most important, right? When will I need him again? Probably right now, but I don't care. I'm lucid now, no psychotic symptoms in a long time, so I haven't heard him speaking to me either. Don't know if that's a shame or a relief. Perhaps a little of both.

Speak of the devil (haha, literally this time) he shows up and offers me to pay up if I want that change. Of course I said yes. He also told me that my eating disorder is not what's gonna kill me. That's a comfort, I guess. But it still leaves me with that horrible fate that apparently still awaits me in the future: suicide.

Ah well, I suppose it is a comfort. Now I can starve however much I want to. I sort of knew it though, or I kinda felt it somehow. But still, it can lead me to end up almost dying from it. Like being dangerously close to the edge. I hope so. I really fucking do. Am I that bored?