The night stretches over me as everything sets in motion again. It took more time today, but it always happens. As my thought immediately wanders to K and everything that is him, I try to not dwell too deeply on them. My thoughts regarding a way he identifies, and a significant conversation about it that took place during our first meeting in person, in October 2013. We had met before then, but only briefly, I don't remember which week or even which year.
The words he said still echo in my mind. I think it was our most intense meeting. I was so nervous meeting him as I was already in love. Not only my knees were weak, my whole body was. I was quivering in his presence, yet I was so bold, flirting with him whenever his girlfriend wasn't around. Those that are back together now. My heart was all over the place and I listened to every word he said, refused to forget it when I returned to my best friends' apartment the next day.
I spent the night at his place, or their place, on a very uncomfortable collapsible sofa. There was another person crashing there too, but I got the best and first place. I was their guest of honour, almost. And me and K, we talked literally all night, until we went to sleep sometime around 7:00 am.
It must have been one of the best nights of my entire life, even with having to deal with seeing those two snogging half the time. Oh how I wished I was in his partner's place. I still do. Nothing has changed, but everything has changed. Back then I was aware of how unreachable he was but I still kept on hoping that they would break up and he would find me.
Then it happened. They did break up and in a way, he did find me. We talked almost every day for months. And now... it's been over 2 months since last we talked and they're back together since two weeks ago. I'm shattering in places I didn't know that I could shatter.
I'm so fragile, you know. All those times I've wished I could just move on and continue my life without desperately trying to end it, with all hopes gone and no reason to live. And I'm back there again. I'm back and I can't even describe how awful I feel half the time. The other half I'm just empty.
I woke up late today, so maybe that's why my true feelings didn't hit me until the early morning hours. I have so many playlists on Spotify, close to or beyond 200 and one of them is completely dedicated to K. I keep it private so that it won't show up on facebook when I'm listening to it. In it are songs that he sent to me, or shared on facebook or tumblr. Just a few are songs that I think remind me of him. I call it "Can't let go".
I should go to bed and stop feeling this way, but I know that I can't escape it. I will feel again tomorrow and the next and so on until I don't know what happens. This is all I ever feel. Heartbreak and despair or complete emptiness. There is no in between and no other kinds of emotions. I linger on the brink of existence and my heart is dying. My soul yearns to go back home to Dala and my mind is a mess.
Even if I can't go home to Dala, death is still alluring to me when I feel. I feel nostalgic today, in a bitter and sad way. I can only form smiles in grins and my eyes form a gazeless stare. I listen to "Death announcements and funerals" by Icelandic Sigur Ros and think about the first picture of K that I saved on my computer, May 31st 2013. It's almost been 2 years to the date and I lost my heart for love I couldn't have for the 10th time.
I look back at the positive things we had, the wonderful connection we had. Briefly, only briefly, and I wonder if it's something I've done or didn't do that made us lose that connection. What made him toss me away. Was I not at least a good friend? I was nothing but supportive, caring (although not like the way I wrote about before) and I only wanted him to be happy. And to be by his side.
And although it hurts in ways I simply cannot describe (not even sure I want to) I still do only want him to be happy, most and foremost. But I can't stand the thought of him succeeding to be happy in my absence. Did I drag him down? I only wanted to be open with him about my tragic life cause it's the only life I have. I just wanted to share every possible moment with him. Did I scare him away?
So many questions and they all hang loose. From fragile strings, breaking at touch like cobweb. It feels like I'm mourning, in grief for a loss of something that I never had. Not with him, not with anyone else. I just wanted it to be him, that he was my number one, that he and I would fnd a fairytale ending. But reality... oh damn reality why do you always have to ruin everything? I'm so sick and tired of you. I want to escape reality completely, create my own little world and completely drown in it. Look outside no more, breathe no more.
Where nothing can hurt me, where I can't hurt myself. Where love doesn't exist, or if a relationship with an imaginary person could hold. They never do, I've learned that now. Because it's basically a relationship with myself and I'm inadequate, hopeless and I hate myself. So it's pointless.
It's 1:47 and I don't want to breathe. I'll most likely continue drawing, just to keep these thought off of me. I'm drawing a few bird people, hands and vultures. My first attempt at drawing birds with promarkers and I think it's going fairly well. I'll upload it somewhere when it's done. Might be today, or maybe tomorrow, but shouldn't take longer than that.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
Friday, 24 April 2015
About to snap, but holding up
The crew called as scheduled although I had forgotten that they would. They could easily tell that something was wrong but I was like nope, don't want to talk about it. And the sad thing is, that I wish I could ruin myself without having people around me getting worried all the time.
I want to live completely alone, no crew, no school and my family at a safe distance cause I'm so tired of people and their constant worry. Who gives a fuck if I drink or cut myself, starve or purge, or whatever self destructive behaviour I can list, who cares? Yeah, fucking everyone! I just want to be left alone.
It's true that I try my best to not be self destructive other than my smoking only because I can't deal with them all worrying about me. I'll most likely snap later on though and get back into every harmful thing I can think of and just scream at anyone as much as giving me a look to just piss off.
But they just care about me. I know that, but then they can take their god damned care and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. I never asked for that shit. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so damn likeable. I just don't want these two options alone: 1) lie and smile or 2) say the truth and be showered in worry.
People try to tell me what to do, and I feel bad for telling them that they can't do that. I'm an adult and I'll do whatever I fucking want with the mess that is my life and that's my final word. I wish people could show care in another way. Not in an "oh no don't hurt yourself that's bad you shouldn't do that" -kinda way but maybe "I'm sorry you're hurting, is there anything I can do?" instead. Or I don't know. Be creative, but don't fucking tell me what I can and can't do.
I'm tired of trying to live for those people. For my family, for the crew, for my classmates and for K. I can't live in a way that pleases other people. Most of them, I never wanted in my life in the first place. I just want to run away and be gone for weeks or months. But I have no idea where to live. I don't want anyone finding me. Possibly I could go to another country. Save up money for the cheapest, crappiest hotel in a slum quarter in whatever city not too far from Sweden. Like maybe stay in Europe.
I don't know, I'm just day dreaming. I doubt I'll ever pack a bag and go to another country completely alone just to get away from the crew and my family. But it's tempting. I should go to London, I've always wanted to go there and practice my English, people watch, sit at a cafe and write or draw.
Maybe go to a museum or travel around in England for some basic sight seeing. Go to King's Cross and see platform 9 and three quarters. Or I don't know. Maybe, I've had the thought for a while, I could try reaching publishing houses for my book in England and hope that that could one day grant me a trip to the big city.
Cause if I could get published, I never want to study ever again. Except possibly for fun kinda study, like perhaps another language like German or Russian. I don't ever want to study up my grades anyway. It's too boring and I don't ever want a real, ordinary job anyway. I'm not gonna waste my precious time and low energy on any such crap.
Nope, if I'm ever gonna have a job I'd be a writer. Or a sex worker, that could be interesting too. Something I've always wanted to try. Me being trans could either be a problem or a good thing in that profession, I don't know. Depends on how many would be interested in that kind of, uhm... adventures.
My mind is going places again. Mostly it's going to London, where I probably would even want to live someday, if I manage to live that long. If I become rich or wealthier as a writer, it's a possible dream. But first, I have to learn how to live on my own, or get rich enough to have a housemaid. It would be so neat with a really old house, like centuries old, big and bright like you see in the movies. Nope, I don't wish for a goth home, I want it bright and big with many rooms that I can litter.
But I'm not sure if I even want to live. That dream can never come true with my constant disabilities, I can't possibly make a career, not even as a writer. I wouldn't be able to write that much. Anna is being annoying again, wanting me to destroy my drawings and other random things that I like or have recently bought. I'm so tired of her. I wish I could just mute her somehow. Rip out her vocal cords and feed her with them.
I don't know how I'm holding up. Not good, but I haven't acted upon anything except from the occasional screaming at stupid things and smoking too much. I'm close to just giving up on trying to hold up and indulge in everything cause I just don't care.
It's like, it's so stupid, all those care takers within the psychiatry, shrinks and doctors and what not, they just say it's good when I don't do stupid things and bad when I do. It's all just complementing and congratulating me if I'm good and telling me how bad it is of me when I do something bad. Like what's the point with that? They're all useless.
My nerves are all over the place. Like seriously. I just hit my thigh repeatedly, then threw an empty bottle halfway across the room. I've immersed myself in the details of various drawings today, but my back hurts and my ideas cut in half before I'm done. Now I'm too tired to continue writing, so good night for now.
I want to live completely alone, no crew, no school and my family at a safe distance cause I'm so tired of people and their constant worry. Who gives a fuck if I drink or cut myself, starve or purge, or whatever self destructive behaviour I can list, who cares? Yeah, fucking everyone! I just want to be left alone.
It's true that I try my best to not be self destructive other than my smoking only because I can't deal with them all worrying about me. I'll most likely snap later on though and get back into every harmful thing I can think of and just scream at anyone as much as giving me a look to just piss off.
But they just care about me. I know that, but then they can take their god damned care and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. I never asked for that shit. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so damn likeable. I just don't want these two options alone: 1) lie and smile or 2) say the truth and be showered in worry.
People try to tell me what to do, and I feel bad for telling them that they can't do that. I'm an adult and I'll do whatever I fucking want with the mess that is my life and that's my final word. I wish people could show care in another way. Not in an "oh no don't hurt yourself that's bad you shouldn't do that" -kinda way but maybe "I'm sorry you're hurting, is there anything I can do?" instead. Or I don't know. Be creative, but don't fucking tell me what I can and can't do.
I'm tired of trying to live for those people. For my family, for the crew, for my classmates and for K. I can't live in a way that pleases other people. Most of them, I never wanted in my life in the first place. I just want to run away and be gone for weeks or months. But I have no idea where to live. I don't want anyone finding me. Possibly I could go to another country. Save up money for the cheapest, crappiest hotel in a slum quarter in whatever city not too far from Sweden. Like maybe stay in Europe.
I don't know, I'm just day dreaming. I doubt I'll ever pack a bag and go to another country completely alone just to get away from the crew and my family. But it's tempting. I should go to London, I've always wanted to go there and practice my English, people watch, sit at a cafe and write or draw.
Maybe go to a museum or travel around in England for some basic sight seeing. Go to King's Cross and see platform 9 and three quarters. Or I don't know. Maybe, I've had the thought for a while, I could try reaching publishing houses for my book in England and hope that that could one day grant me a trip to the big city.
Cause if I could get published, I never want to study ever again. Except possibly for fun kinda study, like perhaps another language like German or Russian. I don't ever want to study up my grades anyway. It's too boring and I don't ever want a real, ordinary job anyway. I'm not gonna waste my precious time and low energy on any such crap.
Nope, if I'm ever gonna have a job I'd be a writer. Or a sex worker, that could be interesting too. Something I've always wanted to try. Me being trans could either be a problem or a good thing in that profession, I don't know. Depends on how many would be interested in that kind of, uhm... adventures.
My mind is going places again. Mostly it's going to London, where I probably would even want to live someday, if I manage to live that long. If I become rich or wealthier as a writer, it's a possible dream. But first, I have to learn how to live on my own, or get rich enough to have a housemaid. It would be so neat with a really old house, like centuries old, big and bright like you see in the movies. Nope, I don't wish for a goth home, I want it bright and big with many rooms that I can litter.
But I'm not sure if I even want to live. That dream can never come true with my constant disabilities, I can't possibly make a career, not even as a writer. I wouldn't be able to write that much. Anna is being annoying again, wanting me to destroy my drawings and other random things that I like or have recently bought. I'm so tired of her. I wish I could just mute her somehow. Rip out her vocal cords and feed her with them.
I don't know how I'm holding up. Not good, but I haven't acted upon anything except from the occasional screaming at stupid things and smoking too much. I'm close to just giving up on trying to hold up and indulge in everything cause I just don't care.
It's like, it's so stupid, all those care takers within the psychiatry, shrinks and doctors and what not, they just say it's good when I don't do stupid things and bad when I do. It's all just complementing and congratulating me if I'm good and telling me how bad it is of me when I do something bad. Like what's the point with that? They're all useless.
My nerves are all over the place. Like seriously. I just hit my thigh repeatedly, then threw an empty bottle halfway across the room. I've immersed myself in the details of various drawings today, but my back hurts and my ideas cut in half before I'm done. Now I'm too tired to continue writing, so good night for now.
Wednesday, 22 April 2015
The choice
Storms twist inside me, as I forget how to breathe without cigarette smoke. Poison my lungs, poison my black soul as I damn myself for everything that went wrong. The music isn't loud enough, the tears pushing but never flow over. I am made of stone and cannot move.
Storms twist inside me and everything becomes a dull aching, pounding, slamming against my ribs to the echoes of our songs. I wandered aimlessly, forgot where I was heading and then my goal was taken away from me. Ripped apart, over and over, until I can't breathe anymore. Blacken my lungs, I do not need them anymore.
And there's a version of me still lingering in you, and I wonder if you could ever love him like you love her. It would have been nothing to die for you, maybe one day I still might. Life holds no meaning anymore, I haven't got enough booze to drown my pain. I'm drowning in rivers for all the tears I cannot cry. Building up the pressure until I explode.
And I'm just a shadow, a ghost lingering between worlds, lost and confused I find no rest like the spirits of the dead. I'm not here, I'm not here, this isn't happening. Random words search and find their way through, if only I could somehow reach out to you. Again, like once before. If only I dared to believe hard enough, maybe I can go on.
But the darkness rules me and I'm under its command. I stare into the abyss and it's capturing me. I gaze as far as my tired eyes can see but I see nothing. Nothing, nothing's there. My endless spirals lead me here, I'm at your feet loving you unconditionally and you toss me away cause I'm not her. I can never be her and my jealousy is killing me. Over and over until I'm nothing but wounds.
And I try to escape, everything that I can possibly try to escape, but it never works. It slips away like sand between my fingers, like water in my hair, like your words from me: my will to live. But I won't die from you, I don't want you losing me too, if you'd even care. Maybe if I'm dead you'd start caring? Why do I always fall... for the wrong ones?
And I can't breathe even with the cigarette smoke. Chunks of tar, wrestling with the air inside me. I am in control now, of everything I do but not of what I think and feel. And nothing is real, nothing was ever real. Stuck between the choice, live or die, I dread the day I'll eventually decide.
Storms twist inside me and everything becomes a dull aching, pounding, slamming against my ribs to the echoes of our songs. I wandered aimlessly, forgot where I was heading and then my goal was taken away from me. Ripped apart, over and over, until I can't breathe anymore. Blacken my lungs, I do not need them anymore.
And there's a version of me still lingering in you, and I wonder if you could ever love him like you love her. It would have been nothing to die for you, maybe one day I still might. Life holds no meaning anymore, I haven't got enough booze to drown my pain. I'm drowning in rivers for all the tears I cannot cry. Building up the pressure until I explode.
And I'm just a shadow, a ghost lingering between worlds, lost and confused I find no rest like the spirits of the dead. I'm not here, I'm not here, this isn't happening. Random words search and find their way through, if only I could somehow reach out to you. Again, like once before. If only I dared to believe hard enough, maybe I can go on.
But the darkness rules me and I'm under its command. I stare into the abyss and it's capturing me. I gaze as far as my tired eyes can see but I see nothing. Nothing, nothing's there. My endless spirals lead me here, I'm at your feet loving you unconditionally and you toss me away cause I'm not her. I can never be her and my jealousy is killing me. Over and over until I'm nothing but wounds.
And I try to escape, everything that I can possibly try to escape, but it never works. It slips away like sand between my fingers, like water in my hair, like your words from me: my will to live. But I won't die from you, I don't want you losing me too, if you'd even care. Maybe if I'm dead you'd start caring? Why do I always fall... for the wrong ones?
And I can't breathe even with the cigarette smoke. Chunks of tar, wrestling with the air inside me. I am in control now, of everything I do but not of what I think and feel. And nothing is real, nothing was ever real. Stuck between the choice, live or die, I dread the day I'll eventually decide.
As if I was human
Oh. My God. I just started on a Dala inspired drawing and made the absolute most perfect expression on Caspian's face. I am in awe. The expression on my own demon self got close to perfect too, and I kinda captured Kazanndra's silliness quite alright too. So much perfection in the same picture. Hope I won't destroy it when I get to inking it though...
I've been going back to Dala in my mind recently, I miss it too much, the life I had back then. I miss Caspian and Kazanndra and my true form. How perfect everything was, and I hope that I can capture some of that in this drawing. The love between the demon and the elf and then the dragon kinda photo bombing the picture. Ah, yes. Those were the times, those really were the times.
Maybe someday I'll pick up writing my story about Dala too. It's a bit fiction, made up events and such, but the characters, the scenery and environment were all real once so long ago. It's my first "fantasy" novel kinda, or if it's a longer short story, I'm not sure. Maybe like a short book?
It's packed with magic, fantasy creatures (not a single human being or any other "real" creature, not even horses, haha) and trying to describe that world in an understandable and not too cluttered way was hard. I named it "Lost in paradise" from one of my favourite songs by Evanescence which makes me think about Dala. Amy Lee sings: "I've been believing in something so distant, as if I was human" in the first line of the song and I think it just captures it so right. Right into my heart and soul and I can't stop the chills.
When the musical frisson covers my entire body it's the closest thing to magic I can achieve in this world. Back in Dala, real magic was something that I took for granted. And flying. I had big and bat-like wings that could literally take me anywhere I wanted. I was not bound to the laws of physics. Not at all compared to how it is now. I was not only capable of flying and bending matters to my own will by magic, I was lithe, strong and good at mind control, smart, very wise, powerful and the whole world was at my feet.
And although I hate my life here and this world in comparison, living here has taught me one thing above all else: to not take things for granted. It may not last forever. It didn't last forever before, the things I value in this life will certainly not last forever since I am not immortal here. I wouldn't want to, I'm glad that this life comes with an expiration date.
Eternity on Earth? I can't imagine a more horrible thing. I want my eternity back in Dala, and I will do everything differently if I ever get to return. I will shower my loved ones in love like never before, I'll feel everything that world has to offer and appreciate it even more. Cause even ancient souls can change, I believe that every living being is at a constant change for as long as their souls exist.
I had a hell of a lot of lessons to learn when I came here and I believe, not only according to my prophecy, that the lessons are slowly reaching their end. I think that I've learned most of what I came here for, and not much more is left. And I know that I'll only stay here for as long as I have to. Maybe K abandoning me puts me back on track again. I wasted 2 years loving him, maybe I can somehow move on and take up those lessons again. Get this shit done with. Wait for Caspian again instead of falling for human beings.
I've been going back to Dala in my mind recently, I miss it too much, the life I had back then. I miss Caspian and Kazanndra and my true form. How perfect everything was, and I hope that I can capture some of that in this drawing. The love between the demon and the elf and then the dragon kinda photo bombing the picture. Ah, yes. Those were the times, those really were the times.
Maybe someday I'll pick up writing my story about Dala too. It's a bit fiction, made up events and such, but the characters, the scenery and environment were all real once so long ago. It's my first "fantasy" novel kinda, or if it's a longer short story, I'm not sure. Maybe like a short book?
It's packed with magic, fantasy creatures (not a single human being or any other "real" creature, not even horses, haha) and trying to describe that world in an understandable and not too cluttered way was hard. I named it "Lost in paradise" from one of my favourite songs by Evanescence which makes me think about Dala. Amy Lee sings: "I've been believing in something so distant, as if I was human" in the first line of the song and I think it just captures it so right. Right into my heart and soul and I can't stop the chills.
When the musical frisson covers my entire body it's the closest thing to magic I can achieve in this world. Back in Dala, real magic was something that I took for granted. And flying. I had big and bat-like wings that could literally take me anywhere I wanted. I was not bound to the laws of physics. Not at all compared to how it is now. I was not only capable of flying and bending matters to my own will by magic, I was lithe, strong and good at mind control, smart, very wise, powerful and the whole world was at my feet.
And although I hate my life here and this world in comparison, living here has taught me one thing above all else: to not take things for granted. It may not last forever. It didn't last forever before, the things I value in this life will certainly not last forever since I am not immortal here. I wouldn't want to, I'm glad that this life comes with an expiration date.
Eternity on Earth? I can't imagine a more horrible thing. I want my eternity back in Dala, and I will do everything differently if I ever get to return. I will shower my loved ones in love like never before, I'll feel everything that world has to offer and appreciate it even more. Cause even ancient souls can change, I believe that every living being is at a constant change for as long as their souls exist.
I had a hell of a lot of lessons to learn when I came here and I believe, not only according to my prophecy, that the lessons are slowly reaching their end. I think that I've learned most of what I came here for, and not much more is left. And I know that I'll only stay here for as long as I have to. Maybe K abandoning me puts me back on track again. I wasted 2 years loving him, maybe I can somehow move on and take up those lessons again. Get this shit done with. Wait for Caspian again instead of falling for human beings.
Thursday, 16 April 2015
These overwhelming thoughts
I just smoke and drink coffee. All I've eaten today is chocolate and it wasn't even that much. I only slept one hour tonight and it's starting to wear me down. Cause I can just barely eat and sleep after that K got back together with his ex or rather since I got the news about it. I've forgotten how to function. Again. It's always something why does it have to be now?
I was getting too comfortable, wasn't I? Dared believing that he was over her only because that's how I interpreted it. Twisted his words to my liking or something. Anything to give me hope, the only hope I could get. And fuck you Satan, you said you would fix this. I trusted you, for christ's sake. What more have you lied to me about?
Never trust the god of lies, I should know, but yet I do, or maybe it's did now. Maybe it was about someone else all along. All I prayed for was for someone to love me as much as I love them, I didn't specify that it had to be K.
My prayers are so heartbreakingly sad and painful. They are said to save my life. And I know that Satan is the only god who can give me what I need. God above never did anything positive for me, I doubt he even cares. Other gods are either too specified in one area or belong to religions I don't find particularly appealing.
By the way, I do view God as male, because of how I perceive him. He's just a dick and a bastard and treats me and the whole world in a way that just appears overly masculine to me, in all the wrong ways men always treated what they perceive as lesser beings. Now that might sound like a strange formulation coming from someone who basically worships masculinity.
But I'm a feminist too and a socialist, I do see that there are quite huge faults in manliness sometimes. Maybe my words fail me now, I'm not saying "all men" or "not all men" for that matter. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I simply, without doubt, perceive God as male.
And just as simply, I do also perceive Satan as male as well. Perhaps it's just the apparition that I've seen of him, his deep and raspy voice in my ear, because persona wise he might as well be female to me. But it has struck me that maybe all gods are genderless and that gender is something for the mortals. Those that need to reproduce. Although, according to some mythology even gods sometimes reproduce. Okay, I'm going into too deep water here.
What I was saying, my prayers are well chosen and are made for saving my life. My first real prayer to Satan was when I was at the psychiatric ward in Visby first time around, over Midsummer 2013, I was seconds from another suicide attempt and prayed that he could fix my horrible catch 22 situation with the trans team in Huddinge, I could not live otherwise.
And just days after that they got a phone call at the ward saying that I would get my hormones and surgery literally as soon as possible because the papers from Uppsala had just magically arrived 6 months after they should have. I just know that it was Satan's work. I just know that he literally saved my life that day. And how ungrateful I feel now.
But I've had so many reasons to die, it's not only been that. Now my transition is almost over, but I'm still terribly unhappy. And I get angry when people think out loud that was it even worth it then? For crying out loud, I would never have turned 25 years old if it didn't happen. I would have continued to desperately trying to end my life until I had succeeded. I had no will to live, all my hopes were gone, I've never been and felt so lost in my entire life before or after then.
But as I said, the reasons have been so many. Apart from not getting to transition (the catch 22 was that they wanted me to be mentally stable in order to start transition and I could never become mentally stable without it) it has been Anna, Dala, my broken heart, everything just being generally too chaotic, nightmares, just giving up on ever getting happy, not wanting things to get even worse and so on.
My most common reasons have been Dala, Anna and my broken heart. Sometimes I've only been impulsive and just wanted "a good night's sleep and I don't care if it lasts forever" or most sadly, a desperate cry for help. I've learned that, over the years, if I don't try to kill myself often enough the psychiatry deems me not ill enough for their help. That... it's truly heartbreaking, isn't it?
Although it's gotten much better lately, my 10 years long relationship with the psychiatry. I no longer have to prove that I don't know how to live. They get that now, they get that I'm an emotional mess and I've been for a long time, if not forever. I just don't know any other way to live, than to constantly put myself in difficult and dangerous situations and then harming myself because of it.
I really don't think I've gotten that much solid help from the psychiatry over the years. Sadly, they've often made things worse by throwing me around between different doctors, shrinks and departments.
First off, in Östhammar it was only briefly, a few months at their only BUP department which is for underage people (I was 16 at the time), then in Uppsala it was BUP there, then something called Unga Vuxna (for young adults between ages 18 and 25), then the neuro psychiatric for adults (for asperger and such), then DBT (therapy) then to Visby where I continued DBT, then the neuro psychiatric there, then for eating disorders at the same time, and here we are now. Also, the trans team counts as a psychiatric department too, which I have forgotten the actual name of, so I just say "trans team".
I've been in every department they have a name for except from that for psychotic people. That's the reality when you have several different diagnoses. I currently have asperger, borderline, transsexualism and eating disorder (ednos). Sometimes they like to put me in the category of mild to moderate depression, but I actually think that I have dysthymia.
They have thought I might have ADHD but I didn't get it when they tested me for asperger which should go into the same category, I think? And some idiots have thought I might not have asperger at all. Please, I'm a textbook example. In periods I've thought that I either have Schizophrenia or Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I keep proving and disproving it all the time.
And any fucker who says Anna might be a part of my asperger gets a fist in their face. I know asperger, it does NOT include a split personality. Nuff said. And what's up with people wanting to lump every single symptom I have into my asperger diagnosis?! I mean come on, seriously? Okay I do hang on to it, but that's only because without it my life would be beyond more terribly than it already is. I would not get allowance, I would not get to live under LSS. I need it simply to survive in this fucked up society.
I had this weird thing we did during school today, that we were supposed to fantasise about a possible future, ten years ahead of now. I was very vague and said my life basically hadn't changed much at all, because I'm certain I won't be around in ten years from now. I won't be around in two years from now, if my prophecy is right.
Excuse my terribly intense writing, I have to go and take Zyprexa and hope it helps cause I'm committing emotional suicide with my thoughts here. Perhaps that is fairly obvious cause I've been constantly rambling all of this for I don't know how many hours now.
There, I took 4 pills, it should bloody well do. Or I don't know what to do. I'll have to tell my doctor that they stopped working and ask for something stronger. I'm gonna have a doctor's appointment soon, probably in May (yeah, that is "soon" when it comes to doctors) mainly to discuss anti-psychotic drugs so then I can bring it up about Zyprexa not working as an anxiolytic anymore.
I really think I will walk out of that appointment empty handed, I don't think there are any anti-psychotic drugs that doesn't have the weight gain side effect and I refuse to take anything that has it. I'd rather be having Anna's annoying presence by my side for the rest of my miserable life then. It's been like this for 17 years, what's really the harm? I don't know what to expect really. But now, I really need to get back my my drawing.
I was getting too comfortable, wasn't I? Dared believing that he was over her only because that's how I interpreted it. Twisted his words to my liking or something. Anything to give me hope, the only hope I could get. And fuck you Satan, you said you would fix this. I trusted you, for christ's sake. What more have you lied to me about?
Never trust the god of lies, I should know, but yet I do, or maybe it's did now. Maybe it was about someone else all along. All I prayed for was for someone to love me as much as I love them, I didn't specify that it had to be K.
My prayers are so heartbreakingly sad and painful. They are said to save my life. And I know that Satan is the only god who can give me what I need. God above never did anything positive for me, I doubt he even cares. Other gods are either too specified in one area or belong to religions I don't find particularly appealing.
By the way, I do view God as male, because of how I perceive him. He's just a dick and a bastard and treats me and the whole world in a way that just appears overly masculine to me, in all the wrong ways men always treated what they perceive as lesser beings. Now that might sound like a strange formulation coming from someone who basically worships masculinity.
But I'm a feminist too and a socialist, I do see that there are quite huge faults in manliness sometimes. Maybe my words fail me now, I'm not saying "all men" or "not all men" for that matter. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I simply, without doubt, perceive God as male.
And just as simply, I do also perceive Satan as male as well. Perhaps it's just the apparition that I've seen of him, his deep and raspy voice in my ear, because persona wise he might as well be female to me. But it has struck me that maybe all gods are genderless and that gender is something for the mortals. Those that need to reproduce. Although, according to some mythology even gods sometimes reproduce. Okay, I'm going into too deep water here.
What I was saying, my prayers are well chosen and are made for saving my life. My first real prayer to Satan was when I was at the psychiatric ward in Visby first time around, over Midsummer 2013, I was seconds from another suicide attempt and prayed that he could fix my horrible catch 22 situation with the trans team in Huddinge, I could not live otherwise.
And just days after that they got a phone call at the ward saying that I would get my hormones and surgery literally as soon as possible because the papers from Uppsala had just magically arrived 6 months after they should have. I just know that it was Satan's work. I just know that he literally saved my life that day. And how ungrateful I feel now.
But I've had so many reasons to die, it's not only been that. Now my transition is almost over, but I'm still terribly unhappy. And I get angry when people think out loud that was it even worth it then? For crying out loud, I would never have turned 25 years old if it didn't happen. I would have continued to desperately trying to end my life until I had succeeded. I had no will to live, all my hopes were gone, I've never been and felt so lost in my entire life before or after then.
But as I said, the reasons have been so many. Apart from not getting to transition (the catch 22 was that they wanted me to be mentally stable in order to start transition and I could never become mentally stable without it) it has been Anna, Dala, my broken heart, everything just being generally too chaotic, nightmares, just giving up on ever getting happy, not wanting things to get even worse and so on.
My most common reasons have been Dala, Anna and my broken heart. Sometimes I've only been impulsive and just wanted "a good night's sleep and I don't care if it lasts forever" or most sadly, a desperate cry for help. I've learned that, over the years, if I don't try to kill myself often enough the psychiatry deems me not ill enough for their help. That... it's truly heartbreaking, isn't it?
Although it's gotten much better lately, my 10 years long relationship with the psychiatry. I no longer have to prove that I don't know how to live. They get that now, they get that I'm an emotional mess and I've been for a long time, if not forever. I just don't know any other way to live, than to constantly put myself in difficult and dangerous situations and then harming myself because of it.
I really don't think I've gotten that much solid help from the psychiatry over the years. Sadly, they've often made things worse by throwing me around between different doctors, shrinks and departments.
First off, in Östhammar it was only briefly, a few months at their only BUP department which is for underage people (I was 16 at the time), then in Uppsala it was BUP there, then something called Unga Vuxna (for young adults between ages 18 and 25), then the neuro psychiatric for adults (for asperger and such), then DBT (therapy) then to Visby where I continued DBT, then the neuro psychiatric there, then for eating disorders at the same time, and here we are now. Also, the trans team counts as a psychiatric department too, which I have forgotten the actual name of, so I just say "trans team".
I've been in every department they have a name for except from that for psychotic people. That's the reality when you have several different diagnoses. I currently have asperger, borderline, transsexualism and eating disorder (ednos). Sometimes they like to put me in the category of mild to moderate depression, but I actually think that I have dysthymia.
They have thought I might have ADHD but I didn't get it when they tested me for asperger which should go into the same category, I think? And some idiots have thought I might not have asperger at all. Please, I'm a textbook example. In periods I've thought that I either have Schizophrenia or Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I keep proving and disproving it all the time.
And any fucker who says Anna might be a part of my asperger gets a fist in their face. I know asperger, it does NOT include a split personality. Nuff said. And what's up with people wanting to lump every single symptom I have into my asperger diagnosis?! I mean come on, seriously? Okay I do hang on to it, but that's only because without it my life would be beyond more terribly than it already is. I would not get allowance, I would not get to live under LSS. I need it simply to survive in this fucked up society.
I had this weird thing we did during school today, that we were supposed to fantasise about a possible future, ten years ahead of now. I was very vague and said my life basically hadn't changed much at all, because I'm certain I won't be around in ten years from now. I won't be around in two years from now, if my prophecy is right.
Excuse my terribly intense writing, I have to go and take Zyprexa and hope it helps cause I'm committing emotional suicide with my thoughts here. Perhaps that is fairly obvious cause I've been constantly rambling all of this for I don't know how many hours now.
There, I took 4 pills, it should bloody well do. Or I don't know what to do. I'll have to tell my doctor that they stopped working and ask for something stronger. I'm gonna have a doctor's appointment soon, probably in May (yeah, that is "soon" when it comes to doctors) mainly to discuss anti-psychotic drugs so then I can bring it up about Zyprexa not working as an anxiolytic anymore.
I really think I will walk out of that appointment empty handed, I don't think there are any anti-psychotic drugs that doesn't have the weight gain side effect and I refuse to take anything that has it. I'd rather be having Anna's annoying presence by my side for the rest of my miserable life then. It's been like this for 17 years, what's really the harm? I don't know what to expect really. But now, I really need to get back my my drawing.
Numb and empty
I don't know how I can stand it, but somehow I can. Them being cute with each other on tumblr and facebook, this pain inside me that keeps on growing but mostly it just makes me feel more hollow and empty. I still haven't told anyone, but I'll tell my psychologist on Friday.
I'll let myself break down then. I remember, vaguely, how heartbroken I felt when those two had gotten engaged briefly back a while ago. I think it was sometime during the autumn of 2013, but I could be mistaken.
And I've been breaking apart more when I thought they were back together but weren't, than I am right now when they actually are back together. I just feel numb, I can't feel much at all. Time passes and I just let it pass. I write suicidal poems but can't figure out if I actually want to die or not. Perhaps I shouldn't figure that out.
I really do equal heartbreak with suicide, it's the most awful thing I've ever felt. Worse than seeing a loved one suffer, worse than abuse of any kind, even worse than complete hopelessness. I believe my own feelings will one day sooner or later literally be the end of me. They are so, so dangerous it's a fucking miracle that I'm still alive today.
I don't want them killing me, but what else will? Remembering K, in all the ways I can, is all I've got left now. Only the echoes of a beautiful friendship that could have maybe become something more. Now I'll never know. And it just kills me over and over, I have so many tears that I can't cry at all, so many screams inside me that can't get out. So many reasons to just end it all.
As I shift between wanting to end it all and wanting to survive this, I can't make up my mind on what to actually do. But if I get to look back at myself at this time of my life, I would probably think I'm already suicidal. Just look at my poems! But I don't feel suicidal, not really. Something makes me still holding on to life.
I just went and did some light drag. Put on eyeliner and black eye shadow and red lipstick. My blonde wig, silvery stockings and a pretty silvery glittery dress. I really like this dress, I bought it after I started my transition so it's got no negative vibes to it. I've never worn it in public. It's stretchy so it also lies flat on my chest and the collar is a little higher so it doesn't show half my chest. It's actually a great dress for a guy to wear.
I did it just to distract myself again. And it still drives me mad how I got from being one type of closet transgender to another. It's just not right. Never thought that once I started passing as a dude I would be afraid to show my ass in drag. I mean I literally lived in full time drag before. I wonder what has changed. I might wear this dress in public by summer time, I don't know.
I'm not wearing a bra with this, so it's just half dragging or something. Or it's not drag at all, it's just me dolling up with make-up, a wig and a dress. It's kind of a party look really. I don't know what I'm rambling about. Here's how I look by the way:
I'll let myself break down then. I remember, vaguely, how heartbroken I felt when those two had gotten engaged briefly back a while ago. I think it was sometime during the autumn of 2013, but I could be mistaken.
And I've been breaking apart more when I thought they were back together but weren't, than I am right now when they actually are back together. I just feel numb, I can't feel much at all. Time passes and I just let it pass. I write suicidal poems but can't figure out if I actually want to die or not. Perhaps I shouldn't figure that out.
I really do equal heartbreak with suicide, it's the most awful thing I've ever felt. Worse than seeing a loved one suffer, worse than abuse of any kind, even worse than complete hopelessness. I believe my own feelings will one day sooner or later literally be the end of me. They are so, so dangerous it's a fucking miracle that I'm still alive today.
I don't want them killing me, but what else will? Remembering K, in all the ways I can, is all I've got left now. Only the echoes of a beautiful friendship that could have maybe become something more. Now I'll never know. And it just kills me over and over, I have so many tears that I can't cry at all, so many screams inside me that can't get out. So many reasons to just end it all.
As I shift between wanting to end it all and wanting to survive this, I can't make up my mind on what to actually do. But if I get to look back at myself at this time of my life, I would probably think I'm already suicidal. Just look at my poems! But I don't feel suicidal, not really. Something makes me still holding on to life.
I just went and did some light drag. Put on eyeliner and black eye shadow and red lipstick. My blonde wig, silvery stockings and a pretty silvery glittery dress. I really like this dress, I bought it after I started my transition so it's got no negative vibes to it. I've never worn it in public. It's stretchy so it also lies flat on my chest and the collar is a little higher so it doesn't show half my chest. It's actually a great dress for a guy to wear.
I did it just to distract myself again. And it still drives me mad how I got from being one type of closet transgender to another. It's just not right. Never thought that once I started passing as a dude I would be afraid to show my ass in drag. I mean I literally lived in full time drag before. I wonder what has changed. I might wear this dress in public by summer time, I don't know.
I'm not wearing a bra with this, so it's just half dragging or something. Or it's not drag at all, it's just me dolling up with make-up, a wig and a dress. It's kind of a party look really. I don't know what I'm rambling about. Here's how I look by the way:
Distractions
Now listening to "Demons" again while smoking and drinking coffee in a break from drawing my sad little comic. I think I got in a lot of emotion/expression into my latest picture and hope I can sustain it throughout the colouring of it. Also, trying to figure out how to draw rain in a very small scale.
The pictures are 9,5 x 13,2 cm so it is a pretty small surface to work on. But I like doing tiny details and especially now when I have that new ultra fine line pen. It doesn't actually appear as 0,1 mm on the paper, but maybe 0,3 or so? And the 0,3 mm pen ends up like maybe 0,5 or so.
I've been wanting to get that pen for a long time now but it's been constantly out of stock, until it finally wasn't. I guess it's popular or something then. Ugh. One thing that strangely enough bothers me when I watch colouring tutorials of promarkers on youtube, is that they don't draw their own line art first.
They use line art pictures that have been made by others. Like what the fuck? If they are that good at colouring (wich they really are, I am in awe for every single tutorial I've watched) then why not draw the line art themselves? They are basically using children's colouring books. I don't understand.
Sure, I've seen one or two people that draw everything from scratch like I do, so it's not everyone. One of them draw like My Little Pony's and it's just amazing artworks, but it's not exactly what I would draw so I can't learn much from her channel.
I'm more for drawing people and lately also certain backgrounds such as cities, parks, apartments, houses or forests. What I don't, or very rarely, draw is animals. I just can't make them look good. Except from horses and cats, that I can draw, but I don't have a reason to. They're not complicated enough for me. Especially cats, anyone can draw cats. People is challenging enough for me.
Okay, I just tried out my STP packer for the first time and let me just tell me this: it worked on first try. Only spilled a few drops on the floor. And suddenly I come to think of it, dudes who miss the frigging toilet bowl, how do you even do it? Cause I managed to not miss at all on my first try ever. Well, I have stood up to pee before, but I've never used an STP packer before now. I wish I had gotten it a lot sooner, it would have been very useful when I lived in Uppsala.
It's quite big though, my STP, and I wish it was a bit smaller. I'm not actually that comfortable carrying around a huge dick. I think over all, that when you actually have the choice to choose the size of your junk as FtM, I think it should be more options on the market than it currently is. For someone who's used to pack extra small, this STP sure is a bit different. But hell yeah it works and it looks decent enough, which is what's the most important.
I did get my ass out the door to buy cigarettes and some basic food items, and more bleach for when I'm gonna destroy my hair again by the weekend. Letting it rest a little before I go at it again, and for it to have some effect. Technically I'm supposed to let it rest for two weeks, but I don't have that kind of patience. I hope it at least gets yellowish blonde, then I can use silver toners and not have to bleach it again. But if it's still orange after my second bleach, then I'll consider adding some blue into it. That's about the plan, I think.
I want my hair icy and I consider dying it in several shades of blue, from light to darker. It would be tricky to get it right, but I think it could look awesome. If it goes from white at the roots to light blue on the middle and then to some kind of medium blue on the ends. Possibly even also to dark blue at the very ending. But my hair is not that long so it might be tricky to get it looking decent that way. Or well, I want it super awesome looking, not just decent.
Hair plans keeping my thoughts busy from the heartache, that's why I let myself ramble about it. I'm all about keeping myself busy, but not too busy, to keep myself distracted. I get more money on Friday so I'm gonna order some blue shades of hair dye that day or soon after.
I think I'll go to BlueFox online shop and buy white toner, lagoon blue and midnight blue. But I still need to bleach my hair one more time. I know how to use Direction's dyes so that's what I go for and they look great on my hair type. I've actually used all three of those shades before as well, so I know what they will look like on my hair. So, that's the plan.
I just finished my next illustrated poem/comic but it's too dark to take a decent photo of it so won't upload it just yet. Now I've had my dinner. It's 1:30. All I've eaten today is a little chocolate, two sandwiches and a small meal of soy farce with pasta. I've only drunk juice, coffee and water.
I hope this last poem I drew will get some kind of notes. That at least a few other people will like it. It's touching the topic of suicide, but isn't actually about that. Maybe more about emotional suicide, or moving on. And there's a reason why the whole background turned grey in the last picture.
In the end, I got 50 notes for that poem before last, the one that got so popular. It's definitely a new record (old record was around 21 notes for something I've made myself). And tumblr has become a way for me to share my art. Not that I'm in it for the fame, I just want the world to see my world.
Here, I want to show you the one that got so many notes on tumblr:
The pictures are 9,5 x 13,2 cm so it is a pretty small surface to work on. But I like doing tiny details and especially now when I have that new ultra fine line pen. It doesn't actually appear as 0,1 mm on the paper, but maybe 0,3 or so? And the 0,3 mm pen ends up like maybe 0,5 or so.
I've been wanting to get that pen for a long time now but it's been constantly out of stock, until it finally wasn't. I guess it's popular or something then. Ugh. One thing that strangely enough bothers me when I watch colouring tutorials of promarkers on youtube, is that they don't draw their own line art first.
They use line art pictures that have been made by others. Like what the fuck? If they are that good at colouring (wich they really are, I am in awe for every single tutorial I've watched) then why not draw the line art themselves? They are basically using children's colouring books. I don't understand.
Sure, I've seen one or two people that draw everything from scratch like I do, so it's not everyone. One of them draw like My Little Pony's and it's just amazing artworks, but it's not exactly what I would draw so I can't learn much from her channel.
I'm more for drawing people and lately also certain backgrounds such as cities, parks, apartments, houses or forests. What I don't, or very rarely, draw is animals. I just can't make them look good. Except from horses and cats, that I can draw, but I don't have a reason to. They're not complicated enough for me. Especially cats, anyone can draw cats. People is challenging enough for me.
Okay, I just tried out my STP packer for the first time and let me just tell me this: it worked on first try. Only spilled a few drops on the floor. And suddenly I come to think of it, dudes who miss the frigging toilet bowl, how do you even do it? Cause I managed to not miss at all on my first try ever. Well, I have stood up to pee before, but I've never used an STP packer before now. I wish I had gotten it a lot sooner, it would have been very useful when I lived in Uppsala.
It's quite big though, my STP, and I wish it was a bit smaller. I'm not actually that comfortable carrying around a huge dick. I think over all, that when you actually have the choice to choose the size of your junk as FtM, I think it should be more options on the market than it currently is. For someone who's used to pack extra small, this STP sure is a bit different. But hell yeah it works and it looks decent enough, which is what's the most important.
I did get my ass out the door to buy cigarettes and some basic food items, and more bleach for when I'm gonna destroy my hair again by the weekend. Letting it rest a little before I go at it again, and for it to have some effect. Technically I'm supposed to let it rest for two weeks, but I don't have that kind of patience. I hope it at least gets yellowish blonde, then I can use silver toners and not have to bleach it again. But if it's still orange after my second bleach, then I'll consider adding some blue into it. That's about the plan, I think.
I want my hair icy and I consider dying it in several shades of blue, from light to darker. It would be tricky to get it right, but I think it could look awesome. If it goes from white at the roots to light blue on the middle and then to some kind of medium blue on the ends. Possibly even also to dark blue at the very ending. But my hair is not that long so it might be tricky to get it looking decent that way. Or well, I want it super awesome looking, not just decent.
Hair plans keeping my thoughts busy from the heartache, that's why I let myself ramble about it. I'm all about keeping myself busy, but not too busy, to keep myself distracted. I get more money on Friday so I'm gonna order some blue shades of hair dye that day or soon after.
I think I'll go to BlueFox online shop and buy white toner, lagoon blue and midnight blue. But I still need to bleach my hair one more time. I know how to use Direction's dyes so that's what I go for and they look great on my hair type. I've actually used all three of those shades before as well, so I know what they will look like on my hair. So, that's the plan.
I just finished my next illustrated poem/comic but it's too dark to take a decent photo of it so won't upload it just yet. Now I've had my dinner. It's 1:30. All I've eaten today is a little chocolate, two sandwiches and a small meal of soy farce with pasta. I've only drunk juice, coffee and water.
I hope this last poem I drew will get some kind of notes. That at least a few other people will like it. It's touching the topic of suicide, but isn't actually about that. Maybe more about emotional suicide, or moving on. And there's a reason why the whole background turned grey in the last picture.
In the end, I got 50 notes for that poem before last, the one that got so popular. It's definitely a new record (old record was around 21 notes for something I've made myself). And tumblr has become a way for me to share my art. Not that I'm in it for the fame, I just want the world to see my world.
Here, I want to show you the one that got so many notes on tumblr:
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
Waking up to this
And I keep reblogging both their posts on tumblr to not let them know that my heart is breaking because of them. It's raining today and I have to go buy cigarettes. I don't know what to wear.
I missed school today unintentionally, I was too tired and something was wrong with my left eye, it wouldn't open properly but since it's better now I guess it wasn't an infection although it felt like it.
Waking up to Spotify being a bitch and screaming at my computer. Yeah, that's nice. And I think it tore something up inside me like another tiny hole in my soul. It's so fragile, like cotton candy.
All my pens lying on display on my desk are so inviting to draw but I'm too fucked up to be able to focus on that. So much pain inside will it ever get better?
And I have to take out the garbage it's piling up everywhere and I have to take care of the dirty dishes but my fate is unkind and I cannot find any peace. And my hair looks like David Bowie's did during his thin white duke era but I still want it lighter. On Sunday or Monday I'll go at it again and turn my orange hair into something closer to snow.
I listen to Alice Cooper again and I just love his sad songs about love and heartbreak such as "Die for you" and "Might as well be on Mars" and "Hell is living without you" and "Killed by love".
Some random guy tries to hook up with me on Skype or I don't know exactly what he wants but seems to be trying to fool me with a very shady money offer does he think I'm that stupid? I thought it was K sending me a message so my heart jumped all the way up to my throat but it was just another false alarm.
I try not to focus on my heart, but it makes me feel so hollow. Maybe my sudden burst of anger just recently hollowed me out too. Yes, it usually does that kind of thing. Hardly making it better, only worse, only worse. My mother seemed to notice something was up with me on the phone yesterday but I blatantly lied to not have to talk about it. I don't want her thinking I'll do something stupid.
Should I take more pills? Cause I'm breaking apart. What good do they actually do? I try to see the positive about there being two different people in love with the same guy, but how can I when she gets to be with him and I don't? My heart is breaking and I don't care about celebrating my birthday with my family this upcoming weekend. I just don't care. I'm just meant to suffer, I truly believe that I'm literally meant to suffer.
I missed school today unintentionally, I was too tired and something was wrong with my left eye, it wouldn't open properly but since it's better now I guess it wasn't an infection although it felt like it.
Waking up to Spotify being a bitch and screaming at my computer. Yeah, that's nice. And I think it tore something up inside me like another tiny hole in my soul. It's so fragile, like cotton candy.
All my pens lying on display on my desk are so inviting to draw but I'm too fucked up to be able to focus on that. So much pain inside will it ever get better?
And I have to take out the garbage it's piling up everywhere and I have to take care of the dirty dishes but my fate is unkind and I cannot find any peace. And my hair looks like David Bowie's did during his thin white duke era but I still want it lighter. On Sunday or Monday I'll go at it again and turn my orange hair into something closer to snow.
I listen to Alice Cooper again and I just love his sad songs about love and heartbreak such as "Die for you" and "Might as well be on Mars" and "Hell is living without you" and "Killed by love".
Some random guy tries to hook up with me on Skype or I don't know exactly what he wants but seems to be trying to fool me with a very shady money offer does he think I'm that stupid? I thought it was K sending me a message so my heart jumped all the way up to my throat but it was just another false alarm.
I try not to focus on my heart, but it makes me feel so hollow. Maybe my sudden burst of anger just recently hollowed me out too. Yes, it usually does that kind of thing. Hardly making it better, only worse, only worse. My mother seemed to notice something was up with me on the phone yesterday but I blatantly lied to not have to talk about it. I don't want her thinking I'll do something stupid.
Should I take more pills? Cause I'm breaking apart. What good do they actually do? I try to see the positive about there being two different people in love with the same guy, but how can I when she gets to be with him and I don't? My heart is breaking and I don't care about celebrating my birthday with my family this upcoming weekend. I just don't care. I'm just meant to suffer, I truly believe that I'm literally meant to suffer.
Only the echoes remain
I stay alert for the smallest change. And nothing can take my thunder away. Count to ten, count back to one. Another cigarette, I'm out of booze. I could have been someone, I could have been something, it would have been easy to die for you. Music turned up to the loudest screams. Holler at me, I can't hear you. I'm going deaf for an infatuation I can't uphold. It's burying me all over again.
As tiredness struck me from within, I lay waste upon every tear I couldn't cry. But I cried yesterday, just when dusk hit the small village. They never ran over, my tears, but they were there. Could have been the make-up or the cigarette smoke though.
I'm cradled by Zyprexa, other pills setting in too quickly. Lergigan, Mirtazapine, can't you wait? Just a little longer, I'm getting too tired to think. The night holds me tight and I wish to stay under it, protected by the darkness, scared of my jaded heart.
And it's passed on to hurting everywhere. I hoped to get just one more chance but your reality hit my heart. Will I try to make it stop beating cause everything is falling apart. I ascend into the faulty of my subconscious mind, and descend into another bottomless hole or is it the same one?
For only fractions of seconds I can stand it without feeling the weight of my heart. Only in glimpses, only in fragments scattered across my living room floor. I loved you with all my heart and soul, I cannot choose a path without you. But alone, I shall wander. Aimlessly, forsaken for the last time.
Cold. I'm so cold inside where everything happens. Slamming against my ribs, pounding against my skull, I feel nothing but an overwhelming sadness. It's crushing me. Like an insect under a sturdy combat boot. Splash, smash, crack. I wither in my soul, homesick for a home that is two eyes and a heartbeat. Two arms wrapped around me.
And I was always too far away, and disconnected when I wasn't. And you were always so far away and distant when you weren't. All my previous laughters, now only the echoes remain. Soundless you are, gone am I already. And I can't find a way, not to drown in all this pain.
I got lost in a wilderness that my heart brought me to. Once I believed in true love, that I could get it someday. Now only echoes remain, only echoes remain.
Echoes
Soundless you are, gone am I already
and I've been haunted by a cruel joke
I thirst for a knowledge that'll harm me
clutter my mind with words I never spoke
I'm despondent and can't stay here anymore
so drag me away, pull me closer
and all that happened was always meant
for of course you chose her
Colour me grey and dull to match my eyes
the stars are mad tonight
chasing comfort in the dancing dark
I'm out of reach, out of light
Staggering through the mist lying thick
faded for another chance to explain
Of all the laughter and soothing melodies
now only the echoes remain
As tiredness struck me from within, I lay waste upon every tear I couldn't cry. But I cried yesterday, just when dusk hit the small village. They never ran over, my tears, but they were there. Could have been the make-up or the cigarette smoke though.
I'm cradled by Zyprexa, other pills setting in too quickly. Lergigan, Mirtazapine, can't you wait? Just a little longer, I'm getting too tired to think. The night holds me tight and I wish to stay under it, protected by the darkness, scared of my jaded heart.
And it's passed on to hurting everywhere. I hoped to get just one more chance but your reality hit my heart. Will I try to make it stop beating cause everything is falling apart. I ascend into the faulty of my subconscious mind, and descend into another bottomless hole or is it the same one?
For only fractions of seconds I can stand it without feeling the weight of my heart. Only in glimpses, only in fragments scattered across my living room floor. I loved you with all my heart and soul, I cannot choose a path without you. But alone, I shall wander. Aimlessly, forsaken for the last time.
Cold. I'm so cold inside where everything happens. Slamming against my ribs, pounding against my skull, I feel nothing but an overwhelming sadness. It's crushing me. Like an insect under a sturdy combat boot. Splash, smash, crack. I wither in my soul, homesick for a home that is two eyes and a heartbeat. Two arms wrapped around me.
And I was always too far away, and disconnected when I wasn't. And you were always so far away and distant when you weren't. All my previous laughters, now only the echoes remain. Soundless you are, gone am I already. And I can't find a way, not to drown in all this pain.
I got lost in a wilderness that my heart brought me to. Once I believed in true love, that I could get it someday. Now only echoes remain, only echoes remain.
Echoes
Soundless you are, gone am I already
and I've been haunted by a cruel joke
I thirst for a knowledge that'll harm me
clutter my mind with words I never spoke
I'm despondent and can't stay here anymore
so drag me away, pull me closer
and all that happened was always meant
for of course you chose her
Colour me grey and dull to match my eyes
the stars are mad tonight
chasing comfort in the dancing dark
I'm out of reach, out of light
Staggering through the mist lying thick
faded for another chance to explain
Of all the laughter and soothing melodies
now only the echoes remain
Monday, 13 April 2015
Heart in my throat
I've been having a really sad imaginary conversation about me an K. I'm on a roof top, getting ready to jump and I invited him to come join me, not to die of course, but for one last conversation. In my mind he's trying to talk me out of it, but I smile calmly and tell him that he can't, that he's gonna let me jump. Do I want to die? Right now, I can't say that it's not alluring. Well I could, but that would be lying.
I would tell him that I didn't want to try to live his life, that all I could do was watching it, from afar. I can't intervene, or even interact anymore. I'm just a shadow, a ghost lingering between the world of the dead and the world of the living. And even though he's still alive, his spirit is somehow haunting me.
Scentless, soundless, but there somehow. His spirit, haunting me, is like my oxygen. And right now I'm trying to figure out how to be alive like this. I do want to die, I really think I do, but it's not worth it. It's not worth the trouble of finding a spot and then give it all up in one last step.
I know I'm not done living yet, but it just hurts too much right now. Although I can just barely feel it. As I try to remember what his hair felt like on my face that one time, or his hand in mine that other one time, if I could only remember his scent. But I can't.
The only way I could let go is to die, and I know that if I allow myself to feel, I'll be planning suicide again. So I won't, scared of hurting him and everyone else that I love and at least like me back, if I do so. But the choice has to be mine, hasn't it? Sometimes I wonder.
I'm not myself anymore, I haven't been for a long time, forever, in fact. I'm a property of a rotten society and all my stupid dreams break like soap bubbles. So brittle they are, barely even worth holding on to.
Now I'm glad I never sent that question to K, about why he stopped talking to me. I'll send another one, soon, about why we can't at least just be friends? He might not want me "that way" but his friendship alone is too precious for me to lose.
If I can't have his love, at least I just want to be friends. That's way better than nothing, if only I can sort myself out again, if only I could. The image of my possible suicide still lingers in my mind, how soothing it is to me, as much as it scares me too. Dreading that the next time I go to the main land I'll do it. Cause Gotland may lack high roof tops, but Stockholm sure doesn't.
I could find a very tall hotel building, rent a room on the top floor and try to find a way up to the roof when time draws near. Damn, I'm already planning although I said I wouldn't do that. I need to get these thoughts out of my mind, focus on something more healthy to rant about instead.
But I lost my heart again, and my flickering flame is dying. For real this time, how long can I live without a spark? My eyes already literally lost their colour, they're not magnetic green anymore, they're grey. They're dead, their spark is gone. For shallow living, I have nothing to hold on to anymore. It feels like I'm drifting into outer space, just lost, lost, lost.
I couldn't focus any longer on anything. Just started staring at random points in my living room, until I eventually managed to go back to writing again. Just puking it all out, what else can I possibly do about this fucked up situation?!
I switched Sisters of Mercy for Alice Cooper but I can't feel the music. I'm just dead inside. I can't cry, I can't scream, although I might really need to. Both, simultaneously. Instead I just sit here, lightly shake my head to not get dizzy, slowly smoking a cigarette and finishing a 6th cup of coffee. Every drag is so hollow, the smoke neither harms or soothes me anymore. Can nothing ever soothe me?
What should I even pray for? I have a god, I have a religion, but nothing to pray for. I'm dying, but maybe suicidal people have no words left, and that's why they're suicidal. Cause they've got nothing more to say. Ann Heberlein wrote about that when she was suicidal she couldn't write, that her words failed her. It's important because she's a famous writer and literally lives on her words. But that they just end for her... I don't know.
My words often fail me, but they never end. Not even when I'm suicidal. I've written many suicide letters and most of them have been quite long and included a lot of various things. My reasons, all the love I wanted to give my loved ones, how I want them to dispose of my body once I'm gone and so on. It's a heck of a business trying to figure out what my last words should be.
I've been wanting to write another one, but I don't want to take that step. I think that if I do, it would lead me closer to actually committing suicide, and I still, somehow, don't really want that. I've failed too many times already, but the thought of death... it's so fucking constant.
Almost more constant than the thought of K. Just almost, though. I'm still empty, but screaming and crying inside, I refuse to let it out, the incredible damage it could make. I imagine myself completely ruining my apartment, tearing down every single wall and smashing everything into pieces until nothing is left.
I'd rather just smoke, write and listen to music that just can't get loud enough. I desperately press my head phones tighter onto my ears, desperately try to... I don't know, something. I'm desperate, that much I know. Desperate to find a way to handle this without dying. I don't know how.
My heart is breaking and I've forgotten how to breathe. I'm so scared of my own feelings, you have no fucking idea, how dangerous they are. Better keep them at a distance, better keep everything at a distance from me for a while.
I imagined taking smoking breaks however much I want to at school today, cause I just don't care, about how damn inconvenient my smoking is for the rest of the class.
I need my damn nicotine, literally to survive, I can't breathe without the smoke. I can barely breathe with it. It's just getting heavier inside, the closer the night comes and the more I write about it. I don't care, let the storm come, I don't care.
I managed to eat a sandwich yesterday, and some chocolate today, and that's all I've eaten since Saturday. If this makes me fall back into starvation, I don't care. It feels like my whole life is over so why should I care? I am cigarette smoke and heartache, there's nothing else left of me.
But I know since before, that I can live like that too. I've gone through worse, I've gone through much worse things than this. Catch 22's and living completely without hope at the same time, a simple heartbreak can't top that. Rape and sexual assault, it can't top that either. The only thing is, those were external things that more or less happened to me, around me, they attacked me. This, this is me breaking down from the inside.
It is different. I don't know why, but of all the horrible things I've gone through, that catch 22 thing the summer before last, and my 9th heartbreak were the worst. The other two things possibly come 3rd, after all. Maybe knowing that this is all my own fault, my heartbreak, is what's making it... unlivable.
I love you K, and I wish I could tell you that. Maybe in my suicide letter, whenever I decide to eventually go for it, hopefully years from now, I can mention who my heart had beat for. I just need you to know, somehow, but mostly I want you to know in a good way. Like, I don't know, love is positive, right? Right...?
And all my scars tell the opposite. My first self harm scars tell the opposite, my first suicide attempt that no longer shows on my left arm. Or was it my right arm? I can't even remember that much.
I wrote most of this text yesterday and it ended rather abruptly. I feel as though I should add something, but I'm at a loss for words. I'll get back to you later though, as I'm already writing yet another entry.
I would tell him that I didn't want to try to live his life, that all I could do was watching it, from afar. I can't intervene, or even interact anymore. I'm just a shadow, a ghost lingering between the world of the dead and the world of the living. And even though he's still alive, his spirit is somehow haunting me.
Scentless, soundless, but there somehow. His spirit, haunting me, is like my oxygen. And right now I'm trying to figure out how to be alive like this. I do want to die, I really think I do, but it's not worth it. It's not worth the trouble of finding a spot and then give it all up in one last step.
I know I'm not done living yet, but it just hurts too much right now. Although I can just barely feel it. As I try to remember what his hair felt like on my face that one time, or his hand in mine that other one time, if I could only remember his scent. But I can't.
The only way I could let go is to die, and I know that if I allow myself to feel, I'll be planning suicide again. So I won't, scared of hurting him and everyone else that I love and at least like me back, if I do so. But the choice has to be mine, hasn't it? Sometimes I wonder.
I'm not myself anymore, I haven't been for a long time, forever, in fact. I'm a property of a rotten society and all my stupid dreams break like soap bubbles. So brittle they are, barely even worth holding on to.
Now I'm glad I never sent that question to K, about why he stopped talking to me. I'll send another one, soon, about why we can't at least just be friends? He might not want me "that way" but his friendship alone is too precious for me to lose.
If I can't have his love, at least I just want to be friends. That's way better than nothing, if only I can sort myself out again, if only I could. The image of my possible suicide still lingers in my mind, how soothing it is to me, as much as it scares me too. Dreading that the next time I go to the main land I'll do it. Cause Gotland may lack high roof tops, but Stockholm sure doesn't.
I could find a very tall hotel building, rent a room on the top floor and try to find a way up to the roof when time draws near. Damn, I'm already planning although I said I wouldn't do that. I need to get these thoughts out of my mind, focus on something more healthy to rant about instead.
But I lost my heart again, and my flickering flame is dying. For real this time, how long can I live without a spark? My eyes already literally lost their colour, they're not magnetic green anymore, they're grey. They're dead, their spark is gone. For shallow living, I have nothing to hold on to anymore. It feels like I'm drifting into outer space, just lost, lost, lost.
I couldn't focus any longer on anything. Just started staring at random points in my living room, until I eventually managed to go back to writing again. Just puking it all out, what else can I possibly do about this fucked up situation?!
I switched Sisters of Mercy for Alice Cooper but I can't feel the music. I'm just dead inside. I can't cry, I can't scream, although I might really need to. Both, simultaneously. Instead I just sit here, lightly shake my head to not get dizzy, slowly smoking a cigarette and finishing a 6th cup of coffee. Every drag is so hollow, the smoke neither harms or soothes me anymore. Can nothing ever soothe me?
What should I even pray for? I have a god, I have a religion, but nothing to pray for. I'm dying, but maybe suicidal people have no words left, and that's why they're suicidal. Cause they've got nothing more to say. Ann Heberlein wrote about that when she was suicidal she couldn't write, that her words failed her. It's important because she's a famous writer and literally lives on her words. But that they just end for her... I don't know.
My words often fail me, but they never end. Not even when I'm suicidal. I've written many suicide letters and most of them have been quite long and included a lot of various things. My reasons, all the love I wanted to give my loved ones, how I want them to dispose of my body once I'm gone and so on. It's a heck of a business trying to figure out what my last words should be.
I've been wanting to write another one, but I don't want to take that step. I think that if I do, it would lead me closer to actually committing suicide, and I still, somehow, don't really want that. I've failed too many times already, but the thought of death... it's so fucking constant.
Almost more constant than the thought of K. Just almost, though. I'm still empty, but screaming and crying inside, I refuse to let it out, the incredible damage it could make. I imagine myself completely ruining my apartment, tearing down every single wall and smashing everything into pieces until nothing is left.
I'd rather just smoke, write and listen to music that just can't get loud enough. I desperately press my head phones tighter onto my ears, desperately try to... I don't know, something. I'm desperate, that much I know. Desperate to find a way to handle this without dying. I don't know how.
My heart is breaking and I've forgotten how to breathe. I'm so scared of my own feelings, you have no fucking idea, how dangerous they are. Better keep them at a distance, better keep everything at a distance from me for a while.
I imagined taking smoking breaks however much I want to at school today, cause I just don't care, about how damn inconvenient my smoking is for the rest of the class.
I need my damn nicotine, literally to survive, I can't breathe without the smoke. I can barely breathe with it. It's just getting heavier inside, the closer the night comes and the more I write about it. I don't care, let the storm come, I don't care.
I managed to eat a sandwich yesterday, and some chocolate today, and that's all I've eaten since Saturday. If this makes me fall back into starvation, I don't care. It feels like my whole life is over so why should I care? I am cigarette smoke and heartache, there's nothing else left of me.
But I know since before, that I can live like that too. I've gone through worse, I've gone through much worse things than this. Catch 22's and living completely without hope at the same time, a simple heartbreak can't top that. Rape and sexual assault, it can't top that either. The only thing is, those were external things that more or less happened to me, around me, they attacked me. This, this is me breaking down from the inside.
It is different. I don't know why, but of all the horrible things I've gone through, that catch 22 thing the summer before last, and my 9th heartbreak were the worst. The other two things possibly come 3rd, after all. Maybe knowing that this is all my own fault, my heartbreak, is what's making it... unlivable.
I love you K, and I wish I could tell you that. Maybe in my suicide letter, whenever I decide to eventually go for it, hopefully years from now, I can mention who my heart had beat for. I just need you to know, somehow, but mostly I want you to know in a good way. Like, I don't know, love is positive, right? Right...?
And all my scars tell the opposite. My first self harm scars tell the opposite, my first suicide attempt that no longer shows on my left arm. Or was it my right arm? I can't even remember that much.
I wrote most of this text yesterday and it ended rather abruptly. I feel as though I should add something, but I'm at a loss for words. I'll get back to you later though, as I'm already writing yet another entry.
Sunday, 12 April 2015
Fighting this, and cinder
I've been trying to fill my head with intense WoW playing and Sisters Of Mercy blasting in my head phones on max volume. For seconds at a time, I'm not even thinking about it. So I guess that would be saying it's almost actually working. Just keeping myself busy, I guess.
I wanted to believe that it was true, that he liked me too, and when he said it I did believe it, but later on I realised that he probably just said it to not hurt my feelings. I respect that, I even accept it because I've done the exact same thing myself, but with other people. I just wish it was true, that's all.
For as long as I can't face my true feelings about this, I bury them as deep as possible and won't allow myself to even touch them from a distance. I'll focus outwards and stay on the go, keep myself busy to distract myself in every way I can possibly think of. WoW, art projects, fixing with my looks (like maybe bleach my hair and shave off my beard, cause black beard and blonde hair would just look awful), do my laundry, take a shower, then go to school tomorrow... and further than that I haven't thought.
I still haven't eaten today. I started a chocolate goo right when I woke up, thinking it was gonna be a good day again (third time never is the charm) but couldn't eat it any longer when I found out about K being back together with his ex again. And I don't care if me saying that can make you figure out who he is, it doesn't matter anymore.
I just can't eat. I can drink though, and I've had 5 cups of coffee already. I might buy booze tomorrow, cause I don't care about that either anymore. Just buy a large bottle of wine and drink it all in one go.
I don't know for how long I won't eat, if it's just another hour or for the whole day. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow, but I really doubt it.
I still can't go to tumblr or facebook, would be too heart tearing seeing those two together online, or anywhere for that matter. Was I not good enough? Or were you still in love with her no matter what I was or did? How will I ever know... what you mean to me, I can never mean to you.
I'm so done with love, romantic love, that is. Far too much unrequited, my heart is breaking for the last time. The only chance I have is with you, maybe sometime in the future if I'm still alive to face it. But I doubt I ever will be. I'll die before you two break up again if you ever will. It's the only chance I've got, and then I'm out of chances.
Cinder
"I breathe softly
lingering in a desperate state
so near so far so close
to finally suffocate
My door will always be open
even if I cease to exist
and I'm done counting the days
forty nine always on my list
Now I count the shards
of my heart breaking down to cinder
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
and my flame is out of tinder
I'm wrecked for the last time
and I can't fight an internal war
that I've already fought
and lost nine times before
My spirit is dying
as I jaded try to find
even the smallest glimpse
of real peace of mind"
I wanted to believe that it was true, that he liked me too, and when he said it I did believe it, but later on I realised that he probably just said it to not hurt my feelings. I respect that, I even accept it because I've done the exact same thing myself, but with other people. I just wish it was true, that's all.
For as long as I can't face my true feelings about this, I bury them as deep as possible and won't allow myself to even touch them from a distance. I'll focus outwards and stay on the go, keep myself busy to distract myself in every way I can possibly think of. WoW, art projects, fixing with my looks (like maybe bleach my hair and shave off my beard, cause black beard and blonde hair would just look awful), do my laundry, take a shower, then go to school tomorrow... and further than that I haven't thought.
I still haven't eaten today. I started a chocolate goo right when I woke up, thinking it was gonna be a good day again (third time never is the charm) but couldn't eat it any longer when I found out about K being back together with his ex again. And I don't care if me saying that can make you figure out who he is, it doesn't matter anymore.
I just can't eat. I can drink though, and I've had 5 cups of coffee already. I might buy booze tomorrow, cause I don't care about that either anymore. Just buy a large bottle of wine and drink it all in one go.
I don't know for how long I won't eat, if it's just another hour or for the whole day. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow, but I really doubt it.
I still can't go to tumblr or facebook, would be too heart tearing seeing those two together online, or anywhere for that matter. Was I not good enough? Or were you still in love with her no matter what I was or did? How will I ever know... what you mean to me, I can never mean to you.
I'm so done with love, romantic love, that is. Far too much unrequited, my heart is breaking for the last time. The only chance I have is with you, maybe sometime in the future if I'm still alive to face it. But I doubt I ever will be. I'll die before you two break up again if you ever will. It's the only chance I've got, and then I'm out of chances.
Cinder
"I breathe softly
lingering in a desperate state
so near so far so close
to finally suffocate
My door will always be open
even if I cease to exist
and I'm done counting the days
forty nine always on my list
Now I count the shards
of my heart breaking down to cinder
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
and my flame is out of tinder
I'm wrecked for the last time
and I can't fight an internal war
that I've already fought
and lost nine times before
My spirit is dying
as I jaded try to find
even the smallest glimpse
of real peace of mind"
Minute by minute
I'm waiting to break down completely. But maybe I won't, maybe I'm too used to this? I don't know what's gonna happen. I should have tried to talk to him more, then maybe this wouldn't have shocked me if I had known what was going on. But I knew. I saw the signs on tumblr and facebook but I tried to just block it out, cause they've been "cute" together before without it having meant something.
But it did mean something, and now they're back together. If I survive this, I'll try for a child instead and forget that my broken heart even exists. Maybe by the fall I'll be off hormones, maybe I could get pregnant sometime in the beginning of next year, if that's still what I want.
I'm shutting off right now, going away from tumblr and facebook to avoid them both and their flirting. I can't deal. My jealousy was valid and not just me being lovesick. I can't deal, I just can't deal with this. I'm obviously meant to be alone, I know that now and I'll stop trying for love. Enough is enough, goodbye K.
I'll love you always, but I won't wait for you anymore. It's obvious you don't want me that way, and although it hurts like hell, I'll just have to respect that. I can't even say it's been fun loving you, it's just been hard, but I don't regret anything. You're amazing.
I don't know if you will ever know now, or if I'll ever tell anyone else who the pseudonym "K" stands for. Love was never for me, and I know that now. Perhaps I can live without you, I hope so, but we'll see. I can't give out empty promises, but right now, I'm not gonna try anything. Let's just take it day by day, or minute by minute.
But it did mean something, and now they're back together. If I survive this, I'll try for a child instead and forget that my broken heart even exists. Maybe by the fall I'll be off hormones, maybe I could get pregnant sometime in the beginning of next year, if that's still what I want.
I'm shutting off right now, going away from tumblr and facebook to avoid them both and their flirting. I can't deal. My jealousy was valid and not just me being lovesick. I can't deal, I just can't deal with this. I'm obviously meant to be alone, I know that now and I'll stop trying for love. Enough is enough, goodbye K.
I'll love you always, but I won't wait for you anymore. It's obvious you don't want me that way, and although it hurts like hell, I'll just have to respect that. I can't even say it's been fun loving you, it's just been hard, but I don't regret anything. You're amazing.
I don't know if you will ever know now, or if I'll ever tell anyone else who the pseudonym "K" stands for. Love was never for me, and I know that now. Perhaps I can live without you, I hope so, but we'll see. I can't give out empty promises, but right now, I'm not gonna try anything. Let's just take it day by day, or minute by minute.
Saturday, 11 April 2015
13 months post op
I've never really talked about how I get more and more okay with my choice of operation technique on my chest. Like at first I was like "fuck I don't care about scars" and went ahead with the double incision even though I was offered the peri areolar technique if I wanted to do that one instead. I was also almost certain that with the size my chest was (about a B-cup) it would not turn out good.
Then after I had actually had the surgery I was almost regretting that choice of technique. I thought "fuck now I'm stuck with two obvious scars that screams how trans I am" and wished I had chosen the other method instead. When I first started thinking about top surgery I was certain I was gonna go with the peri areolar technique as I had a large A-cup and they were firm at that time.
But, after 5 years of binding and just time also probably being a factor in itself, they got a little saggy and they also got bigger from the birth control pills that I took when I was 18-19. And I started realising how hard it would be to get a good enough result from that method with what I had. It became more important that I got a nice, flat chest instead of a scar free chest. Now, I can never have my dream chest, completely scar free and masculine looking.
I do feel a bit sad and frustrated about that fact, but I also have more important things to whine about. My chest is very flat (although still a little tiny bulgy in the middle which I think is only something that I notice) my nipples look great and my scars are fading. I'm still not that fond of those scars but they bother me less and less. Cause maybe I don't care if people figure out that I'm trans because of them? It's better than some of the horrible results of peri areaolar that I have seen that I could have gotten instead.
And I do also go back to my old thoughts about the scars. I was scarred already. Thin white lines cover my entire body after years upon years of self harm. Even on my chest, because I hated my boobs so much. Those scars are still there, unevenly crossing my nipples and it does look a little weird. I do however like all my self harm scars, so why can't I like my surgical scars?
Maybe it just takes time, getting used to it, you know. I'm already far more used to how it looks now compared to right after the surgery. I never once regretted having my boobs removed, but it has been taking some getting used to. When I first saw the result in the shower at home, about a week post op, I nearly damn fainted.
Yeah... I'm a little weak at heart. And I've never had surgery before. I had tried to visualise what it could look like before I had that surgery, but it still couldn't prepare me for the actual result. And it was difficult getting used to being shirtless out in public last summer, the first summer post op. My scars glowed purple and I remember that I tried to cover them with make-up, haha.
It did give me a freeing sensation and that it was more than right, but it was like... I don't know how to explain it. Like I was doing something wrong by being shirtless outside when it was incredibly hot weather. I'm male, I'm not very overweight and I don't have boobs anymore. It shouldn't feel like I'm doing something wrong, but it does. I've been afraid to admit that.
It's a feeling I've been trying to shake off. Among my family my sister is the only one who's seen my new chest, last summer when we went swimming in the lake near my family's house. Or I swam and she read a book on the beach. I was wearing only swim shorts for the first time post op and it gave me that feeling, that I did something wrong, but it was also amazing.
I hope I will feel better this summer. I'm actually worried what my father would say if he saw me shirtless in public. And my mother too, for that matter. She's said that some men just aren't comfortable being topless and I don't know for sure, but I think she hinted at me to keep my shirts on.
And I think my father is either gonna be jealous that I can do it, but he's too uncomfortable being shirtless himself. Or he would react negatively because I know he still sees me as a girl. A bearded and flat chested girl with a deep voice who's name is John... well, I've never claimed to understand my father, but there is a Swedish saying about that it's hard to teach old dogs to sit.
Well, it's gonna happen sooner or later, when I'm hanging at my family's place a very hot summer's day. If it's just the 4 of us, why would it be embarrassing? But they're probably gonna ask if I do that out in the public too, to which I'd have to say yes. Somehow, their opinions colour mine. That it's wrong of me and I'm being an embarrassment.
I wish it wasn't so, I wish I could just be confident about it and comfortable with it. But I think, or hope, that I'll get more so in time. Maybe, just maybe, I can get into working out and becoming a little muscular, which could increase my confidence a notch or two.
But anyway, in my mind, I didn't really have to choose between two surgery techniques, I only had one option that would fit with how my body looked before the operation. And what I really have to come to terms with, is that the B-cups I had made that option, not me. I would not have had the patience to do several operations to get my chest even over time with the other method. I had waited for 5 years and 5 years too many to have my mastectomy, I had to go with the quick fix because I could not wait any longer.
My impatience was very valid and I don't regret having it done with the double incision technique. Anyway, I've been ranting this enough now, I think, and here's a few very delayed 1 year post op pictures which are actually taken today, 13 months post op. As you can see the scars are not that visible anymore, they slowly blend in with the colour of my skin. They are uneven because of how the stitches were placed. My areolae are still a little dark and my tattoo still looks awesome. I've had that one for 8 years in September.
As I've already posted an update on how my chest is doing one year post op I won't mention all that again now. No, this entry is mainly about why I ended up choosing that specific operation technique and how I feel about the result in general.
Then after I had actually had the surgery I was almost regretting that choice of technique. I thought "fuck now I'm stuck with two obvious scars that screams how trans I am" and wished I had chosen the other method instead. When I first started thinking about top surgery I was certain I was gonna go with the peri areolar technique as I had a large A-cup and they were firm at that time.
But, after 5 years of binding and just time also probably being a factor in itself, they got a little saggy and they also got bigger from the birth control pills that I took when I was 18-19. And I started realising how hard it would be to get a good enough result from that method with what I had. It became more important that I got a nice, flat chest instead of a scar free chest. Now, I can never have my dream chest, completely scar free and masculine looking.
I do feel a bit sad and frustrated about that fact, but I also have more important things to whine about. My chest is very flat (although still a little tiny bulgy in the middle which I think is only something that I notice) my nipples look great and my scars are fading. I'm still not that fond of those scars but they bother me less and less. Cause maybe I don't care if people figure out that I'm trans because of them? It's better than some of the horrible results of peri areaolar that I have seen that I could have gotten instead.
And I do also go back to my old thoughts about the scars. I was scarred already. Thin white lines cover my entire body after years upon years of self harm. Even on my chest, because I hated my boobs so much. Those scars are still there, unevenly crossing my nipples and it does look a little weird. I do however like all my self harm scars, so why can't I like my surgical scars?
Maybe it just takes time, getting used to it, you know. I'm already far more used to how it looks now compared to right after the surgery. I never once regretted having my boobs removed, but it has been taking some getting used to. When I first saw the result in the shower at home, about a week post op, I nearly damn fainted.
Yeah... I'm a little weak at heart. And I've never had surgery before. I had tried to visualise what it could look like before I had that surgery, but it still couldn't prepare me for the actual result. And it was difficult getting used to being shirtless out in public last summer, the first summer post op. My scars glowed purple and I remember that I tried to cover them with make-up, haha.
It did give me a freeing sensation and that it was more than right, but it was like... I don't know how to explain it. Like I was doing something wrong by being shirtless outside when it was incredibly hot weather. I'm male, I'm not very overweight and I don't have boobs anymore. It shouldn't feel like I'm doing something wrong, but it does. I've been afraid to admit that.
It's a feeling I've been trying to shake off. Among my family my sister is the only one who's seen my new chest, last summer when we went swimming in the lake near my family's house. Or I swam and she read a book on the beach. I was wearing only swim shorts for the first time post op and it gave me that feeling, that I did something wrong, but it was also amazing.
I hope I will feel better this summer. I'm actually worried what my father would say if he saw me shirtless in public. And my mother too, for that matter. She's said that some men just aren't comfortable being topless and I don't know for sure, but I think she hinted at me to keep my shirts on.
And I think my father is either gonna be jealous that I can do it, but he's too uncomfortable being shirtless himself. Or he would react negatively because I know he still sees me as a girl. A bearded and flat chested girl with a deep voice who's name is John... well, I've never claimed to understand my father, but there is a Swedish saying about that it's hard to teach old dogs to sit.
Well, it's gonna happen sooner or later, when I'm hanging at my family's place a very hot summer's day. If it's just the 4 of us, why would it be embarrassing? But they're probably gonna ask if I do that out in the public too, to which I'd have to say yes. Somehow, their opinions colour mine. That it's wrong of me and I'm being an embarrassment.
I wish it wasn't so, I wish I could just be confident about it and comfortable with it. But I think, or hope, that I'll get more so in time. Maybe, just maybe, I can get into working out and becoming a little muscular, which could increase my confidence a notch or two.
But anyway, in my mind, I didn't really have to choose between two surgery techniques, I only had one option that would fit with how my body looked before the operation. And what I really have to come to terms with, is that the B-cups I had made that option, not me. I would not have had the patience to do several operations to get my chest even over time with the other method. I had waited for 5 years and 5 years too many to have my mastectomy, I had to go with the quick fix because I could not wait any longer.
My impatience was very valid and I don't regret having it done with the double incision technique. Anyway, I've been ranting this enough now, I think, and here's a few very delayed 1 year post op pictures which are actually taken today, 13 months post op. As you can see the scars are not that visible anymore, they slowly blend in with the colour of my skin. They are uneven because of how the stitches were placed. My areolae are still a little dark and my tattoo still looks awesome. I've had that one for 8 years in September.
As I've already posted an update on how my chest is doing one year post op I won't mention all that again now. No, this entry is mainly about why I ended up choosing that specific operation technique and how I feel about the result in general.
Friday, 10 April 2015
Creative energy
Yesterday was quite dull, I was dull, wrote only about nightly dreams, food and exercise. Hoping it will change into something more interesting today. It was so dull that I didn't bother posting any of it anywhere.
I just finished my third illustrated poem, it took me about a week to make, or I don't know, maybe 10-15 hours altogether? I want my new promarkers to arrive so that I can continue my drawing of the goth couple's background. I need shades of green!
Holy... I just posted that illustrated poem on tumblr and it got 15 notes in less than an hour! This makes me want to draw more. But I don't know what exactly. I just want my new pens right now! Fucking impatient.
Also, I'm starting to get tired of how my hair looks. I want to change the colour but don't know exactly how or even if I should. I want it blonde again, with parts of it blue, but it's gonna kill my hair and I still want it long. Or for it to get long. I was thinking I could bleach it but not so hard, leave it orange and then dye it all blue (has worked in the past, so) and then just keep bleaching the roots, letting only the lengths be blue. Could work? I don't know.
I need to order some blue dye then. And now I want to do a slightly massive order from BluFox seeing as they have studs that I want for some DIY as well. For a jacket and some pants, mainly. For when I can wear that jacket, that is. Needs to get warmer, I mean. It fits me perfectly these days, size wise.
I've already started a little DIY on it, added some patches to it. Just some things I've embroidered. An ankh and the Men Without Hats logo. Then I want to paint it with like white bats or something. I've got fabric paint and brushes. And add some more studs to it. It feels like I can only be goth during spring and summer, like winter jackets just cannot be goth.
But yeah, I've gotten really bored with my black and green hair now. It was fun while it lasted, now it's boring. I miss the blonde and I miss blue too. It was... 4 years ago I had blue hair and 1 year ago that I had blonde last time. Still want to keep it in a mohawk though, although I might need to trim the tips/endings/lengths or what the fuck to call it, since it was a long while ago and it's probably gotten a little damaged.
So, time for my summer hair already? It's mid April, for crying out loud. Well, it will probably take a while for me to get that blue dye after ordering it, and I should probably wait until my next "pay check" comes before I start online shopping again. It got a little expensive this month *cough* around 1000 kronor *cough*. Aaand I don't really have that kind of money.
But I haven't even been able to do any kind of internet shopping for months while my computer was bitchy, so I'm making up for it now. My things haven't even arrived yet. Bloody annoying when ordering from American websites, it takes ages for the things to show up and the shipping is so damn expensive it's crazy. As if the items themselves were any cheaper...
I hope that when I'll move back to Uppsala I can get more independent again. Travel without needing anyone to drive me, because the traffic is so much better on the main land compared to here on Gotland. I could take buses or trains. I would opt for another LSS apartment and the only help my parents would do is calling people for me, which they can actually do from afar.
I hope I could make that work, and possibly also get a guide or something when needing to travel around to unfamiliar places. There is help for lost people like me, if you just know how to get it. If you just try. And I don't want to be bound to this island forever. I regret moving here so, so much and wish I had stayed in Gottsunda until I had gotten a real LSS apartment in Uppsala. And just skipped studying since that obviously was too hard.
I don't need an education or a job to fulfill my life or to feel fulfilled. I don't know if that's a thing about being human that just I can't relate to, or if simply my art and writing is enough for me. If I didn't have that, I'd probably feel empty without having anything else to do, but I do manage to make my life liveable without having a job or study, because I have my creativity.
Maybe in Uppsala I could have a chance of making success too. I haven't thought about that before. I could contact galleries or something for my art, I could contact publishing houses for my writings. You know, if I didn't have my telephone phobia then. That fucking sucks too. Basically, what that means to me is that I just can't call people.
Wow, the weather is so nice today, it's giving me a lot energy that I can't figure out what to do with. Do I want to draw, write, take up some sewing project or? I don't know. Okay, I just painted my jacket a little bit with white fabric paint. A few lines, a few bats. It's very lumpy and grainy that paint, so it was hard to work with. Hm, now I want to add cobweb to it as well... After this cigarette then.
I don't have enough energy to sew anything though, I'll stick to painting and drawing today, I think. Possibly write something if I can come up with an idea of some kind. My god... that illustrated poem, you know? It's up at 24 notes now. And it's a new record. Okay, it's 25 now and the number just seems to be increasing. It just makes me smile, knowing that so many people like my art, even if it's just one piece.
And now I really do want to make another one, but I don't know what about. Maybe more about the character? I don't know. Apparently, it seems my sad and dark poems are more popular than the lighter and more hopeful ones. And I do want to bring my red haired character into more of my darkness, but I'm having a good day so that seems hard now somehow, if I can't get the mood right.
Aha! I thought of a text for it. It will be a little bit different, more abstract and reflective sort of, but hoping I won't disappoint my fans. Haha, me, having fans? I don't know what else to say, really. Those who seem to appreciate my art, that is.
29 notes and still counting. Wow. Just saying wow cause I'm at a loss for actual words.
I've now gone back to my jacket and added a cobweb to the right shoulder. Now I'm so done with that lumpy paint. I'll get a decent one if I want to do more. Making thin and straight lines? Forget it. It was fairly easy doing the bats though, since I cut out a shape in paper and dotted in paint in the space that formed the shape. It got a little messy though but I fixed that with a black Promarker. The jacket is not supposed to be washed or anything, so I can do whatever I want with it, really.
Next up I want to fix a pair of black jeans to look more trashy goth somehow. I would love to paint cobweb and those too, but not with that damn paint. And or add pieces of white, trashed pantyhose. That could look neat, but then I have to find such pantyhose too. Might be able to find that on BlueFox, or the grocery store for that sake. And also add studs to them. Maybe keeping the pantyhose in place with studs? It's an idea.
Since I have 3 pairs of black jeans I thought it wouldn't be such a waste to fix up one of those. To match the jacket, is my thought. But I'd have to hand wash them when they're done or simply never wash them. Jackets and pants can technically still be used even if never or rarely washed, which is neat.
I just want to look more goth again and I'm so tired of everything either being simply black with no details or "normal" looking clothing. Next up would be getting decent looking shoes. What I have for spring/summer now is either simple black gym shoes or equally simple black sandals. Utterly boring.
Like, I do favourite boots, but I was thinking something lighter and not so very warm to wear. It's usually expensive and I don't know if I can modify or make a pair from scratch. That would be a bit too complicated for such a hobby artist such as myself.
Nope, gotta go scavenging somewhere. Like find something second hand to modify with studs and chains and straps or what not, or suck it up and buy something new. Damn, I wish OdiumClothing was still in business! I miss them. But alas, I have to turn somewhere else. Maybe go to a real life store in Stockholm when next I'm on the main land or something.
I want to start drawing again. Or fix more with my clothes. Was hungry so just had a sandwich. It will have to do, as I'm in the middle of modifying that pair of jeans. Found pieces of fabric, straps with studs on and my old studded leather belt that is completely broken beyond repair. I take tips from what other people have done with their DIY projects and try to think of somewhat original things myself.
Like the pieces of simple, black fabric that I'm trying to think of something somewhat original to do with. I haven't figured out what exactly yet though. This is so much fun. Like really, why didn't I start this sooner? Winter was a problem, as my energy levels tend to go below zero when it's cold and dark and generally uninspiring weather. Now it's like almost warm and spring and it's been a sunny day. Then my energy has been and is on the plus side for a change. That does not happen every day.
It's up at 32 notes. This is insane! I didn't think it became quite that good, but must have been then. Okay, now my energy has run out and I can't do anything. Too tired to exist, I just crashed. But I drink more coffee, hoping I can draw a little more at least.
Wow, this is like the longest blog entry ever and it took forever to edit. It's my whole day, that I've been writing a little every now and then. Don't care to chop it up into shorter entries, so I'll just post it all at once instead.
I just finished my third illustrated poem, it took me about a week to make, or I don't know, maybe 10-15 hours altogether? I want my new promarkers to arrive so that I can continue my drawing of the goth couple's background. I need shades of green!
Holy... I just posted that illustrated poem on tumblr and it got 15 notes in less than an hour! This makes me want to draw more. But I don't know what exactly. I just want my new pens right now! Fucking impatient.
Also, I'm starting to get tired of how my hair looks. I want to change the colour but don't know exactly how or even if I should. I want it blonde again, with parts of it blue, but it's gonna kill my hair and I still want it long. Or for it to get long. I was thinking I could bleach it but not so hard, leave it orange and then dye it all blue (has worked in the past, so) and then just keep bleaching the roots, letting only the lengths be blue. Could work? I don't know.
I need to order some blue dye then. And now I want to do a slightly massive order from BluFox seeing as they have studs that I want for some DIY as well. For a jacket and some pants, mainly. For when I can wear that jacket, that is. Needs to get warmer, I mean. It fits me perfectly these days, size wise.
I've already started a little DIY on it, added some patches to it. Just some things I've embroidered. An ankh and the Men Without Hats logo. Then I want to paint it with like white bats or something. I've got fabric paint and brushes. And add some more studs to it. It feels like I can only be goth during spring and summer, like winter jackets just cannot be goth.
But yeah, I've gotten really bored with my black and green hair now. It was fun while it lasted, now it's boring. I miss the blonde and I miss blue too. It was... 4 years ago I had blue hair and 1 year ago that I had blonde last time. Still want to keep it in a mohawk though, although I might need to trim the tips/endings/lengths or what the fuck to call it, since it was a long while ago and it's probably gotten a little damaged.
So, time for my summer hair already? It's mid April, for crying out loud. Well, it will probably take a while for me to get that blue dye after ordering it, and I should probably wait until my next "pay check" comes before I start online shopping again. It got a little expensive this month *cough* around 1000 kronor *cough*. Aaand I don't really have that kind of money.
But I haven't even been able to do any kind of internet shopping for months while my computer was bitchy, so I'm making up for it now. My things haven't even arrived yet. Bloody annoying when ordering from American websites, it takes ages for the things to show up and the shipping is so damn expensive it's crazy. As if the items themselves were any cheaper...
I hope that when I'll move back to Uppsala I can get more independent again. Travel without needing anyone to drive me, because the traffic is so much better on the main land compared to here on Gotland. I could take buses or trains. I would opt for another LSS apartment and the only help my parents would do is calling people for me, which they can actually do from afar.
I hope I could make that work, and possibly also get a guide or something when needing to travel around to unfamiliar places. There is help for lost people like me, if you just know how to get it. If you just try. And I don't want to be bound to this island forever. I regret moving here so, so much and wish I had stayed in Gottsunda until I had gotten a real LSS apartment in Uppsala. And just skipped studying since that obviously was too hard.
I don't need an education or a job to fulfill my life or to feel fulfilled. I don't know if that's a thing about being human that just I can't relate to, or if simply my art and writing is enough for me. If I didn't have that, I'd probably feel empty without having anything else to do, but I do manage to make my life liveable without having a job or study, because I have my creativity.
Maybe in Uppsala I could have a chance of making success too. I haven't thought about that before. I could contact galleries or something for my art, I could contact publishing houses for my writings. You know, if I didn't have my telephone phobia then. That fucking sucks too. Basically, what that means to me is that I just can't call people.
Wow, the weather is so nice today, it's giving me a lot energy that I can't figure out what to do with. Do I want to draw, write, take up some sewing project or? I don't know. Okay, I just painted my jacket a little bit with white fabric paint. A few lines, a few bats. It's very lumpy and grainy that paint, so it was hard to work with. Hm, now I want to add cobweb to it as well... After this cigarette then.
I don't have enough energy to sew anything though, I'll stick to painting and drawing today, I think. Possibly write something if I can come up with an idea of some kind. My god... that illustrated poem, you know? It's up at 24 notes now. And it's a new record. Okay, it's 25 now and the number just seems to be increasing. It just makes me smile, knowing that so many people like my art, even if it's just one piece.
And now I really do want to make another one, but I don't know what about. Maybe more about the character? I don't know. Apparently, it seems my sad and dark poems are more popular than the lighter and more hopeful ones. And I do want to bring my red haired character into more of my darkness, but I'm having a good day so that seems hard now somehow, if I can't get the mood right.
Aha! I thought of a text for it. It will be a little bit different, more abstract and reflective sort of, but hoping I won't disappoint my fans. Haha, me, having fans? I don't know what else to say, really. Those who seem to appreciate my art, that is.
29 notes and still counting. Wow. Just saying wow cause I'm at a loss for actual words.
I've now gone back to my jacket and added a cobweb to the right shoulder. Now I'm so done with that lumpy paint. I'll get a decent one if I want to do more. Making thin and straight lines? Forget it. It was fairly easy doing the bats though, since I cut out a shape in paper and dotted in paint in the space that formed the shape. It got a little messy though but I fixed that with a black Promarker. The jacket is not supposed to be washed or anything, so I can do whatever I want with it, really.
Next up I want to fix a pair of black jeans to look more trashy goth somehow. I would love to paint cobweb and those too, but not with that damn paint. And or add pieces of white, trashed pantyhose. That could look neat, but then I have to find such pantyhose too. Might be able to find that on BlueFox, or the grocery store for that sake. And also add studs to them. Maybe keeping the pantyhose in place with studs? It's an idea.
Since I have 3 pairs of black jeans I thought it wouldn't be such a waste to fix up one of those. To match the jacket, is my thought. But I'd have to hand wash them when they're done or simply never wash them. Jackets and pants can technically still be used even if never or rarely washed, which is neat.
I just want to look more goth again and I'm so tired of everything either being simply black with no details or "normal" looking clothing. Next up would be getting decent looking shoes. What I have for spring/summer now is either simple black gym shoes or equally simple black sandals. Utterly boring.
Like, I do favourite boots, but I was thinking something lighter and not so very warm to wear. It's usually expensive and I don't know if I can modify or make a pair from scratch. That would be a bit too complicated for such a hobby artist such as myself.
Nope, gotta go scavenging somewhere. Like find something second hand to modify with studs and chains and straps or what not, or suck it up and buy something new. Damn, I wish OdiumClothing was still in business! I miss them. But alas, I have to turn somewhere else. Maybe go to a real life store in Stockholm when next I'm on the main land or something.
I want to start drawing again. Or fix more with my clothes. Was hungry so just had a sandwich. It will have to do, as I'm in the middle of modifying that pair of jeans. Found pieces of fabric, straps with studs on and my old studded leather belt that is completely broken beyond repair. I take tips from what other people have done with their DIY projects and try to think of somewhat original things myself.
Like the pieces of simple, black fabric that I'm trying to think of something somewhat original to do with. I haven't figured out what exactly yet though. This is so much fun. Like really, why didn't I start this sooner? Winter was a problem, as my energy levels tend to go below zero when it's cold and dark and generally uninspiring weather. Now it's like almost warm and spring and it's been a sunny day. Then my energy has been and is on the plus side for a change. That does not happen every day.
It's up at 32 notes. This is insane! I didn't think it became quite that good, but must have been then. Okay, now my energy has run out and I can't do anything. Too tired to exist, I just crashed. But I drink more coffee, hoping I can draw a little more at least.
Wow, this is like the longest blog entry ever and it took forever to edit. It's my whole day, that I've been writing a little every now and then. Don't care to chop it up into shorter entries, so I'll just post it all at once instead.
Wednesday, 8 April 2015
Never done anything else
I dreamed that I was drawing my picture of a goth couple that I just started yesterday. Don't know if that was even a boring or interesting thing to dream about. I had just started trying out drawing dark brown skin colours with my promarkers and it's trickier than it might seem, because I'm both shadowing and highlighting with 3 different shades of brown.
I'm used to only doing two different types of white/caucasian skin, one cold and pale, the other slightly warmer and livelier. And now just playing around with the brown shades I think I already found the perfect combination of burnt sienna, cinnamon and tan.
It is a whole science drawing with these pens to bring life to my cartoons, and I only just recently started drawing in 3 shades instead of just 2 to create even more depth. And desperately trying to squeeze out more ink from my dying pen cool grey 4 as I use it for most of my shading when it comes to basically everything except skin colours.
I did buy cool grey 2 and 3 as well as more 1 and 4 and I also have cool grey 5 which is the darkest. So, soon I'll be able to do much more detailed shading when it comes to all the other stuff than the skin tones as well. I keep learning despite having teaching myself how to use these pens for over a year now, I think. All self taught too.
Don't even remember when I got my first set of promarkers, but I think it was about or a little over a year ago. It's like my favourite toys these days. It's interesting, cause my favourite toys as a child was pens as well. Drawing is like the one thing I've always done. And this technique that I'm doing these days, seems to me not that far from the colouring books I (rarely) used as a child. Filling in black lines with coloured ink, I mean.
It is much more advanced, of course, since I'm drawing everything from scratch and basically making my own colouring books and then with the shading too. I'm hoping I can upgrade it even further as I'll get more pens and that thinner black line pen. I really love submerging myself in tiny details and learn more advanced techniques.
Still find myself watching youtube videos of tutorials and found that Letraset (the brand of promarkers that I buy) has its own channel there with lots of useful tips and tricks. Some things I still haven't figured out how to get right, or neat looking enough, like hair. Light hair, mostly.
For the lightest blonde I use ivory and layers upon layers of cool grey 1, but it still doesn't quite give it a lot of depth. I think ivory is my favourite shade, actually. It's very light, pale yellowish beige almost kinda and it works for a lot of things. Like skin, hair, wallpapers, light wood furniture and so on.
Before, I only had ivory and sandstone for light skin colours, but now... I think I have at least 5-6 different shades ranging from ivory to blush, from tan to dusky pink and vanilla to what not. These days I most often use tan, blush and ivory mixed together to create a light, soft and warm skin tone. And sandstone, vanilla and ivory to create a colder one.
In all these tutorials I find, people seem to prefer the rosy look to light skin, which I honestly don't understand. Most people are rarely that rosy. They just seem to overuse the light pink shades and rarely use ivory, which is my favourite. Maybe I'm just so hooked on the dead goth look that only ivory can give me, I don't know.
Since I often draw either pale white people or pale darker skinned people (yes even dark skinned people can be pale, as pale means ghostly/colourless, not light), I don't see the point in adding pink tones to cheeks or what not.
Should I try drawing K with promarkers? Maybe. I have only so far drawn him with lead pens, but I think it could be fun drawing him with colours too. And it was a while ago since I last drew him. Just a thought.
What more can I say about my drawings? Oh yes, I'm a bit bothered by the fact that my expensive special paper is so thin, cause it can't contain that much ink before it gets mushy or what to say. Three or four layers and that's about it. Sometimes I can stretch it to five layers, but that's rare. Why so many layers? Cause that's basically how you draw with promarkers, to blend the colours to give it a softer, more natural look.
I still prefer working in small scales, drawing smaller pictures. Or, the paper that I have is in A4 so I can't really do as big pictures with what I have. Although I can use other types of paper. For my big artwork with world of warcraft characters I use just a thicker, simple piece of paper and that works fine too.
It doesn't bleed through and the paper can hold quite a lot of ink before it starts getting mushy like that. Although it really sucks in the ink, or how to explain it, so it might dry out the pens a bit quicker, and also it makes the colours appear darker and more grey, for some reason.
Other than that, I don't really have any far ahead plans for my drawings. I just draw for my own sake and to get better at it. I have no plans to sell anything or such. Unless someone wants to buy something out of the blue, of course. This kind of technique isn't commonly used for something to put up on a wall though. But possibly for tattoos or comics or some kind of cards.
I should put up a few of these on my own walls though, those that look more like actual artworks and maybe not most of the rooms I did before. But the male draenei, maybe the living room, my self portrait if I can ever finish it and possibly this dark goth couple that followed me into my dream this night. Maybe make my living room a gallery of sorts. Although most of it isn't even framed, it's just put up with needles in the wallpaper. It's hard, finding decent frames that will fit.
Just to finish this off, I really do love drawing with promarkers, although I keep comparing myself to real artists that, just as me never done anything else, but somehow are still so much better at it than I am. Although, I did only start with promarkers about a year ago, I'm still sort of a beginner at that. But the funny thing is that it's a lot more fun starting a new art style than it is perfecting an old one.
I'm used to only doing two different types of white/caucasian skin, one cold and pale, the other slightly warmer and livelier. And now just playing around with the brown shades I think I already found the perfect combination of burnt sienna, cinnamon and tan.
It is a whole science drawing with these pens to bring life to my cartoons, and I only just recently started drawing in 3 shades instead of just 2 to create even more depth. And desperately trying to squeeze out more ink from my dying pen cool grey 4 as I use it for most of my shading when it comes to basically everything except skin colours.
I did buy cool grey 2 and 3 as well as more 1 and 4 and I also have cool grey 5 which is the darkest. So, soon I'll be able to do much more detailed shading when it comes to all the other stuff than the skin tones as well. I keep learning despite having teaching myself how to use these pens for over a year now, I think. All self taught too.
Don't even remember when I got my first set of promarkers, but I think it was about or a little over a year ago. It's like my favourite toys these days. It's interesting, cause my favourite toys as a child was pens as well. Drawing is like the one thing I've always done. And this technique that I'm doing these days, seems to me not that far from the colouring books I (rarely) used as a child. Filling in black lines with coloured ink, I mean.
It is much more advanced, of course, since I'm drawing everything from scratch and basically making my own colouring books and then with the shading too. I'm hoping I can upgrade it even further as I'll get more pens and that thinner black line pen. I really love submerging myself in tiny details and learn more advanced techniques.
Still find myself watching youtube videos of tutorials and found that Letraset (the brand of promarkers that I buy) has its own channel there with lots of useful tips and tricks. Some things I still haven't figured out how to get right, or neat looking enough, like hair. Light hair, mostly.
For the lightest blonde I use ivory and layers upon layers of cool grey 1, but it still doesn't quite give it a lot of depth. I think ivory is my favourite shade, actually. It's very light, pale yellowish beige almost kinda and it works for a lot of things. Like skin, hair, wallpapers, light wood furniture and so on.
Before, I only had ivory and sandstone for light skin colours, but now... I think I have at least 5-6 different shades ranging from ivory to blush, from tan to dusky pink and vanilla to what not. These days I most often use tan, blush and ivory mixed together to create a light, soft and warm skin tone. And sandstone, vanilla and ivory to create a colder one.
In all these tutorials I find, people seem to prefer the rosy look to light skin, which I honestly don't understand. Most people are rarely that rosy. They just seem to overuse the light pink shades and rarely use ivory, which is my favourite. Maybe I'm just so hooked on the dead goth look that only ivory can give me, I don't know.
Since I often draw either pale white people or pale darker skinned people (yes even dark skinned people can be pale, as pale means ghostly/colourless, not light), I don't see the point in adding pink tones to cheeks or what not.
Should I try drawing K with promarkers? Maybe. I have only so far drawn him with lead pens, but I think it could be fun drawing him with colours too. And it was a while ago since I last drew him. Just a thought.
What more can I say about my drawings? Oh yes, I'm a bit bothered by the fact that my expensive special paper is so thin, cause it can't contain that much ink before it gets mushy or what to say. Three or four layers and that's about it. Sometimes I can stretch it to five layers, but that's rare. Why so many layers? Cause that's basically how you draw with promarkers, to blend the colours to give it a softer, more natural look.
I still prefer working in small scales, drawing smaller pictures. Or, the paper that I have is in A4 so I can't really do as big pictures with what I have. Although I can use other types of paper. For my big artwork with world of warcraft characters I use just a thicker, simple piece of paper and that works fine too.
It doesn't bleed through and the paper can hold quite a lot of ink before it starts getting mushy like that. Although it really sucks in the ink, or how to explain it, so it might dry out the pens a bit quicker, and also it makes the colours appear darker and more grey, for some reason.
Other than that, I don't really have any far ahead plans for my drawings. I just draw for my own sake and to get better at it. I have no plans to sell anything or such. Unless someone wants to buy something out of the blue, of course. This kind of technique isn't commonly used for something to put up on a wall though. But possibly for tattoos or comics or some kind of cards.
I should put up a few of these on my own walls though, those that look more like actual artworks and maybe not most of the rooms I did before. But the male draenei, maybe the living room, my self portrait if I can ever finish it and possibly this dark goth couple that followed me into my dream this night. Maybe make my living room a gallery of sorts. Although most of it isn't even framed, it's just put up with needles in the wallpaper. It's hard, finding decent frames that will fit.
Just to finish this off, I really do love drawing with promarkers, although I keep comparing myself to real artists that, just as me never done anything else, but somehow are still so much better at it than I am. Although, I did only start with promarkers about a year ago, I'm still sort of a beginner at that. But the funny thing is that it's a lot more fun starting a new art style than it is perfecting an old one.
Tuesday, 7 April 2015
Spilling ink
So, I just figured I'd give you a bit of an update, seeing as I keep disappearing from the internet all the time and then needing to explain my behaviour. I don't know exactly where I go when I'm offline. I disappear into other worlds instead. Into WoW, drawing, movies, music, Grimston Estate or some other imaginary world that I create in my mind.
It can truly be a blessing, having my writing that lets me create entire universes better or worse or just different from reality. The only reality that is considered a real world, although I don't quite believe in that. I believe there is more to reality than the material world that I see on the news or outside of my window.
I never liked that reality, the one I've spent most time in, after all. All I see is awfulness and not even nature, not even the true beauty of nature, can inspire me. To life, to art, or to anything. Other fictional worlds inspire me, and the world inside my mind. Yes, there is what I can call a specific world in there, from which every imaginary world I've made come from. It all originates from something.
In that world I am the ruler, the god or the king, however you'd put it. And Anna would be my twisted idea of a queen or goddess. Sometimes there have been other people visiting, like Frank, Satan and Vargyl. There are basically no rules to follow, and if there are, they constantly change. I want to tattoo the text "My world, my rules" in blood spatter across my chest one day, and it refers to the world inside my head, but also in a way the one within my apartment, and also a little how I perceive your reality and a tiny bit referring to my anarchism.
It's also taken from the movie "The Cell" which has a special meaning to me as well. Carl Starger's world reminds me of my own, although, his might be even slightly darker than mine. Like, he's a king in a twisted kingdom there, and he has this voice, like a god above him, who says "Me God, boy" and somehow that reminds me of Anna.
Although, I'm not a serial killer and I don't have an invented form of Schizophrenia (to my knowledge, that is), but we do have a few things in common here and there throughout the movie. So, also that tattoo would be tribute to that movie, because I find it to be a great master piece just packed with an imagination that I wish I had myself. The idea about the blood spatter doesn't have much to do with the movie though. It's just me, loving (human) blood and I think it would look awesome.
First, I just wanted to wait until after I had my mastectomy before having that tattoo done there (it would be above my scars and nipples, so not in purpose of actually hiding my scars, but perhaps to draw attention away from them) but then money has always been an issue too. If I find a decent tattoo artist my guess is it would probably cost somewhere around 5000 kronor. Or anything from 3000 to 7000. I don't know, but it's a lot of money.
And also I'm a bit scared of misspelling the words, haha. I'm not the most picky language police you can find among language nerds, but I am picky about it being right when it comes to my future tattoos. For obvious reasons, perhaps. And I'm still haunted by the thought of maybe wanting to tattoo K's name like on my hip or somewhere not so visible. Only for myself, it wouldn't even show if I so only wore swimwear during summer.
I try to reason with myself, of how stupid it would be to have his name on my body for literally the rest of my life. I don't even know why I want it. But when it comes to tattoos, I am in fact fairly laid back about it. I mean, the dragon I have now did not become perfect, it's simple and I did it when I was 18 years old, and I still love it like madly. I don't think I would regret a few mishaps here and there, or getting a small tattoo with his name on my hip, why would I even regret that?
Maybe that's what's haunting me, thinking that I wouldn't regret it no matter what. Only one thing... if K himself saw it and would be repulsed by it. I would need to get his permission or something. I mean, I would probably be a bit offended if someone who's in love with me that I didn't love back would just suddenly get a tattoo with my name on their body. Like, we're not dating?! But how can I know that K would react negatively when I really don't know?
For crying out loud, he doesn't even know that I'm in love with him... although, mentioning that would probably give it away quite easily. That would be the kind of tattoo I could afford though, would likely not even cost more than a few hundred, tops. And the artist would not have to be super skilled either, just fairly good with words/letters, sober and able to do straight lines, basically. I'll think about it some more...
I mean, I wouldn't do it if he'd be uncomfortable with it, it's not that important to me. It just haunts me, that's all. Anyway... I've forgotten what I wanted to say.
But I'm back online again for at least another week or two before I go back to my family to celebrate my birthday somehow. I'll be turning 26 and I have no idea how that happened. Already pushing 30 but I don't feel like I'm old at all, physically. Maybe cause I still look like I'm 18 or something. Mentally, I'm still 45, but more about that another time.
It can truly be a blessing, having my writing that lets me create entire universes better or worse or just different from reality. The only reality that is considered a real world, although I don't quite believe in that. I believe there is more to reality than the material world that I see on the news or outside of my window.
I never liked that reality, the one I've spent most time in, after all. All I see is awfulness and not even nature, not even the true beauty of nature, can inspire me. To life, to art, or to anything. Other fictional worlds inspire me, and the world inside my mind. Yes, there is what I can call a specific world in there, from which every imaginary world I've made come from. It all originates from something.
In that world I am the ruler, the god or the king, however you'd put it. And Anna would be my twisted idea of a queen or goddess. Sometimes there have been other people visiting, like Frank, Satan and Vargyl. There are basically no rules to follow, and if there are, they constantly change. I want to tattoo the text "My world, my rules" in blood spatter across my chest one day, and it refers to the world inside my head, but also in a way the one within my apartment, and also a little how I perceive your reality and a tiny bit referring to my anarchism.
It's also taken from the movie "The Cell" which has a special meaning to me as well. Carl Starger's world reminds me of my own, although, his might be even slightly darker than mine. Like, he's a king in a twisted kingdom there, and he has this voice, like a god above him, who says "Me God, boy" and somehow that reminds me of Anna.
Although, I'm not a serial killer and I don't have an invented form of Schizophrenia (to my knowledge, that is), but we do have a few things in common here and there throughout the movie. So, also that tattoo would be tribute to that movie, because I find it to be a great master piece just packed with an imagination that I wish I had myself. The idea about the blood spatter doesn't have much to do with the movie though. It's just me, loving (human) blood and I think it would look awesome.
First, I just wanted to wait until after I had my mastectomy before having that tattoo done there (it would be above my scars and nipples, so not in purpose of actually hiding my scars, but perhaps to draw attention away from them) but then money has always been an issue too. If I find a decent tattoo artist my guess is it would probably cost somewhere around 5000 kronor. Or anything from 3000 to 7000. I don't know, but it's a lot of money.
And also I'm a bit scared of misspelling the words, haha. I'm not the most picky language police you can find among language nerds, but I am picky about it being right when it comes to my future tattoos. For obvious reasons, perhaps. And I'm still haunted by the thought of maybe wanting to tattoo K's name like on my hip or somewhere not so visible. Only for myself, it wouldn't even show if I so only wore swimwear during summer.
I try to reason with myself, of how stupid it would be to have his name on my body for literally the rest of my life. I don't even know why I want it. But when it comes to tattoos, I am in fact fairly laid back about it. I mean, the dragon I have now did not become perfect, it's simple and I did it when I was 18 years old, and I still love it like madly. I don't think I would regret a few mishaps here and there, or getting a small tattoo with his name on my hip, why would I even regret that?
Maybe that's what's haunting me, thinking that I wouldn't regret it no matter what. Only one thing... if K himself saw it and would be repulsed by it. I would need to get his permission or something. I mean, I would probably be a bit offended if someone who's in love with me that I didn't love back would just suddenly get a tattoo with my name on their body. Like, we're not dating?! But how can I know that K would react negatively when I really don't know?
For crying out loud, he doesn't even know that I'm in love with him... although, mentioning that would probably give it away quite easily. That would be the kind of tattoo I could afford though, would likely not even cost more than a few hundred, tops. And the artist would not have to be super skilled either, just fairly good with words/letters, sober and able to do straight lines, basically. I'll think about it some more...
I mean, I wouldn't do it if he'd be uncomfortable with it, it's not that important to me. It just haunts me, that's all. Anyway... I've forgotten what I wanted to say.
But I'm back online again for at least another week or two before I go back to my family to celebrate my birthday somehow. I'll be turning 26 and I have no idea how that happened. Already pushing 30 but I don't feel like I'm old at all, physically. Maybe cause I still look like I'm 18 or something. Mentally, I'm still 45, but more about that another time.
Sunday, 5 April 2015
Independence
Not much to report today. I've been drawing and playing WoW, I'm making several mini series or like illustrated poems. One takes about 6-7 hours to make and I've finished one.
It's 41 days and I actually forgot to count it yesterday. I'm still withering away, disintegrating and forgetting why I should even live, but I get by.
I still have dulled feelings, but I don't mind, it's so much better only vaguely feeling the sadness than to completely drown in it. I push it away, and even successfully so at times. I can't really tell if I'm even sad or just tired right now. It all blends in together and I don't know its ends or beginnings.
I'm listening to The Crüxshadows and it was long ago last time I heard them. Mostly I listen to the lyrics and for the first time recognise myself in them. I long for my own home again already and will probably go back there by the beginning of next week. It's a holiday week again, for Easter this time.
I don't even know why I'm here at all. Last time was during Christmas and I didn't miss my family at all during those 3 months from then until now. I don't know when I'll go here next time, but probably around my birthday. Then probably not again until Midsummer or something.
I don't ever miss being here, I just like it so much better at my own apartment. That mess, no cats, loneliness. But I'm always feeling lonely, no matter how many or which people I surround myself with. Even around K, because there's a distance between us and it's not only physical, that distance.
It's like a mental distance, like there's a glass wall between us, whether we chat or meet in person. It only goes away for that split second I feel his arms around me. In that moment alone, I don't feel lonely at all. But all the other times I do.
In a way I like my loneliness, cause I do isolate and choose to isolate. It gives me a certain feeling of independence that I can't truly grasp. Like I don't need people, yet I do. I don't need them because I feel lonely either way, and I need them because I'm dependent on their help.
Have I ever told you just how degrading it can be to have to live under LSS? Like you can't even clean the dishes and caving in for accepting help when you've had a pretty decent day, but you just realised you can't do it. Or knowing that you actually can do the laundry on your own, but your care taker doesn't believe you cause you're such a mess so they decide to help you anyway.
I'm getting tired, maybe I can go to sleep a little bit earlier today, although I don't hope that hard for it. And I don't care either. Suddenly, I don't care much about anything. Maybe it's the music, K lingering in the back of my mind or something else entirely. I don't think I can write any more now, so this will have to do for today.
It's 41 days and I actually forgot to count it yesterday. I'm still withering away, disintegrating and forgetting why I should even live, but I get by.
I still have dulled feelings, but I don't mind, it's so much better only vaguely feeling the sadness than to completely drown in it. I push it away, and even successfully so at times. I can't really tell if I'm even sad or just tired right now. It all blends in together and I don't know its ends or beginnings.
I'm listening to The Crüxshadows and it was long ago last time I heard them. Mostly I listen to the lyrics and for the first time recognise myself in them. I long for my own home again already and will probably go back there by the beginning of next week. It's a holiday week again, for Easter this time.
I don't even know why I'm here at all. Last time was during Christmas and I didn't miss my family at all during those 3 months from then until now. I don't know when I'll go here next time, but probably around my birthday. Then probably not again until Midsummer or something.
I don't ever miss being here, I just like it so much better at my own apartment. That mess, no cats, loneliness. But I'm always feeling lonely, no matter how many or which people I surround myself with. Even around K, because there's a distance between us and it's not only physical, that distance.
It's like a mental distance, like there's a glass wall between us, whether we chat or meet in person. It only goes away for that split second I feel his arms around me. In that moment alone, I don't feel lonely at all. But all the other times I do.
In a way I like my loneliness, cause I do isolate and choose to isolate. It gives me a certain feeling of independence that I can't truly grasp. Like I don't need people, yet I do. I don't need them because I feel lonely either way, and I need them because I'm dependent on their help.
Have I ever told you just how degrading it can be to have to live under LSS? Like you can't even clean the dishes and caving in for accepting help when you've had a pretty decent day, but you just realised you can't do it. Or knowing that you actually can do the laundry on your own, but your care taker doesn't believe you cause you're such a mess so they decide to help you anyway.
I'm getting tired, maybe I can go to sleep a little bit earlier today, although I don't hope that hard for it. And I don't care either. Suddenly, I don't care much about anything. Maybe it's the music, K lingering in the back of my mind or something else entirely. I don't think I can write any more now, so this will have to do for today.
Saturday, 4 April 2015
Bored with myself
People say you shouldn't save too small clothes, that you'll never shrink into them, but I did and now they're too big instead. I don't know what to do with them. WoW is being a bitch and I want to play but I can't. Don't know what to do about that either.
So instead I'm bored again and I hate being bored. Got my highest level warlock's professions up a bit beyond 300 yesterday, and now I want to get that character up to level 74, but yeah. And no one knows a shit what's going on, as usual.
I'm over at my family's place and I just don't write that often when I'm here, cause it's hard for me to write if I can't smoke at the same time, which I can't here cause have to go outside and can't bring my stationary computer with me to the porch.
I'll probably end up smoking and drawing instead cause this fucking sucks. The weather is very shifting and I dress up in layers upon layers but I'm still freezing. Temperatures below 22 degrees are just so damn difficult for me to deal with. I'm used to the 26 degrees in my own apartment, and I'm rarely cold in there, but in here it's just 21 and the difference chills me to the bone.
Anyway, I don't particularly like it here, cause I have to smoke outdoors and can't blast my music as loud as I want to. I have to show deference and I hate that. I even find myself asking myself how these people can stand living with each other. Sure, they are my family and obviously I used to live with them too, but still. I've gotten so used to living on my own now.
So yeah, I'll be going out for a smoke or several now and I'll be taking a break from my computer for a while, I think. Until WoW stops malfunctioning, I guess.
So instead I'm bored again and I hate being bored. Got my highest level warlock's professions up a bit beyond 300 yesterday, and now I want to get that character up to level 74, but yeah. And no one knows a shit what's going on, as usual.
I'm over at my family's place and I just don't write that often when I'm here, cause it's hard for me to write if I can't smoke at the same time, which I can't here cause have to go outside and can't bring my stationary computer with me to the porch.
I'll probably end up smoking and drawing instead cause this fucking sucks. The weather is very shifting and I dress up in layers upon layers but I'm still freezing. Temperatures below 22 degrees are just so damn difficult for me to deal with. I'm used to the 26 degrees in my own apartment, and I'm rarely cold in there, but in here it's just 21 and the difference chills me to the bone.
Anyway, I don't particularly like it here, cause I have to smoke outdoors and can't blast my music as loud as I want to. I have to show deference and I hate that. I even find myself asking myself how these people can stand living with each other. Sure, they are my family and obviously I used to live with them too, but still. I've gotten so used to living on my own now.
So yeah, I'll be going out for a smoke or several now and I'll be taking a break from my computer for a while, I think. Until WoW stops malfunctioning, I guess.
Friday, 3 April 2015
Generalising
I've been borrowing K's clothes at some points when we've met but I've never actually gotten anything of his, I suddenly thought of when last summer flashed before my eyes. We used to be the same size, but I think maybe I'm smaller now. I don't care about that though, I mean what size he is. Cause he's just too damn handsome no matter what.
I realise that I don't usually write or talk about K like that, I mean, really about him, because I don't want to say too much that will make you realise that "oh fuck, it's him!" or something like that. But yeah, we're a little similar in size, have the same shoe size and he's slightly taller than me. Has dark hair, blueish eyes and the most beautiful smile on Earth. That could be a very general description as even saying his hair colour would be a dead give away, because it's dyed and rare.
I really do like his hair though, and I remember when that kind of stuff was important to me. Back in my teenage years, I dreamed of being with long haired men especially (although also long haired women) but lately I've come to appreciate almost every kinds of hair lengths and a lot of different styles. Long, short, medium, natural, dyed, abiding the norm, alternative, masculine, feminine, anything really.
So, what I really just don't want is for you to be able to figure who K is based on my description of his looks, so I keep it general, that it could be a description of a lot of people out there. Only 3 or so very close people to me know exactly who he is. I mean, who it is that I'm madly in love with. They know his name and or have seen him or even know him personally.
It's not just about trust, it's about not letting the whole world know before he knows, and also I don't want to make him uncomfortable with the idea that a lot of people knowing my feelings for him. I don't know why that would possibly make him uncomfortable though, it's just a precaution of sorts. And people don't need to know, right?
I'm just so damn protective when it comes to him, although not overly so. I mean, I would never stop him from doing anything he wants for whatever reason or anything. I just don't want him to come to any sort of harm because of me. I want to protect him from myself.
It's 39 days, and yes every passing day I'm gonna update that number just to let you know that I'm still counting. I don't think he's gonna start talking to me on his own again, I think I must be the one to take the initiative. If anyone can forget that I'm shy, it's him. I've been taking a lot of initiative without being too pushy or clingy (I sincerely hope) when it comes to him.
I realise that I don't usually write or talk about K like that, I mean, really about him, because I don't want to say too much that will make you realise that "oh fuck, it's him!" or something like that. But yeah, we're a little similar in size, have the same shoe size and he's slightly taller than me. Has dark hair, blueish eyes and the most beautiful smile on Earth. That could be a very general description as even saying his hair colour would be a dead give away, because it's dyed and rare.
I really do like his hair though, and I remember when that kind of stuff was important to me. Back in my teenage years, I dreamed of being with long haired men especially (although also long haired women) but lately I've come to appreciate almost every kinds of hair lengths and a lot of different styles. Long, short, medium, natural, dyed, abiding the norm, alternative, masculine, feminine, anything really.
So, what I really just don't want is for you to be able to figure who K is based on my description of his looks, so I keep it general, that it could be a description of a lot of people out there. Only 3 or so very close people to me know exactly who he is. I mean, who it is that I'm madly in love with. They know his name and or have seen him or even know him personally.
It's not just about trust, it's about not letting the whole world know before he knows, and also I don't want to make him uncomfortable with the idea that a lot of people knowing my feelings for him. I don't know why that would possibly make him uncomfortable though, it's just a precaution of sorts. And people don't need to know, right?
I'm just so damn protective when it comes to him, although not overly so. I mean, I would never stop him from doing anything he wants for whatever reason or anything. I just don't want him to come to any sort of harm because of me. I want to protect him from myself.
It's 39 days, and yes every passing day I'm gonna update that number just to let you know that I'm still counting. I don't think he's gonna start talking to me on his own again, I think I must be the one to take the initiative. If anyone can forget that I'm shy, it's him. I've been taking a lot of initiative without being too pushy or clingy (I sincerely hope) when it comes to him.
Real darkness
Right now I'm just curious, scared but calmed by death all at the same time. I'm tired beyond exhausted and cannot sleep because of my ever so lingering thoughts of suicide. They've been following me through most of my life, ever since I was 4 years old, but I only remember my first such thoughts from when I was about 6 or 7 years old.
Already then death allured me and already then I hated my life. I can't really say that things got better. Slightly to the opposite direction, actually. But it was never good and I held on to the comforting thought of death as an option in my darker times.
Through bullying, sexual assault, dissociation, loneliness, lovesickness, heartbreak, physical ailments, psychological abuse, homesickness for Dala, the torture known as Anna, psychotic episodes, depression, failure upon failure that eventually ended up shaping my life.
I have had nothing else as constant and comforting as death to hold on to. Except my family, but sometimes I needed to escape them too, their ignorance. They were very accepting and understanding, I never had any real problem with them. But they never even noticed the bullying, not even when it went so far that Anna came to me to save my life.
I told my mother the summer before last, about sort of what happened to me when I was 9 years old, in the car on my way to get locked up in the psychiatric ward for being suicidal. She drove me there. Then, just recently I told her that it was connected to Anna.
I had only discovered that connection that summer, and it was one of the reasons I thought I could not go on living anymore. Cause it wasn't only what the bullies did to me, it was also something that I did to another person.
It was so damn awful I don't think I can ever in my entire life tell a single soul what or who it was. I'm trying to protect that person as much as I just want to protect myself. I'm pretty sure they don't remember what happened, that only I do.
I hope so, for their sake, but it feels like I ruined that person's life and I'm watching what I created far too often as we still keep contact. We have to. And more than that, I can't possibly say. Maybe I've already said too much, and I'm sorry if I sparked your curiosity or something, but that is real darkness and it should never have happened. It's literally the worst thing I've ever done in my life, and the only things I can say in self defense, is that I was just 9 years old and that I had no idea that what I was doing was wrong in any sense.
It drove me mad, when the memories that I had became clearer and more visual. I knew Anna remembered and I pushed her to tell or show me. It really did drive me mad. My mood started shifting intensively, think borderline and bipolar combined, shaken up and watched through a microscope. I couldn't sleep, eat or drink for days before I crashed and it was just awful.
I couldn't handle remembering what I had done to someone that close to me. I thought that I should be locked up but couldn't handle prison. I googled intensively to find out if I could still be charged for that crime. Yes, it was indeed an actual crime, one of the worst imaginable at that too.
I really didn't think I could live with it. I don't know if I should ever let anyone know, if that would even be a good thing to do. I mean, I could do it as one of the last things before dying, to not have to face the consequences myself. Although I know that I can't be convicted for a crime I did before the age of 15, but there could still be other dire consequences.
It still haunts me. Sometimes day and night. And it should, I just wish I hadn't done it. So where does that leave me? Did God forsake me that very moment, did Anna come because of that or what I went through myself, am I forever damned because of it, was it right of me to pursue suicide?
You hear about it sometimes. On tv or in books and movies. About violent offenders deciding to end their lives because they can't deal with what they've done. It's almost seen as a morally correct act. Am I horrible for being able to move on and living with myself?
I don't often talk about this, it usually hurts just thinking about it, but I'm empty tonight and the questions run softly through my head. I'm calm, even though I know that that very moment literally ruined my life. And someone else's. So many lives were ruined those days. I think it went a few months between the two incidents.
And I still catch myself believing that I didn't know that what I did was wrong. I hadn't been taught much, or anything at all, about that topic yet at that age. It came later, and so did the realisation. That "what have I done" realisation that never stopped.
Already then death allured me and already then I hated my life. I can't really say that things got better. Slightly to the opposite direction, actually. But it was never good and I held on to the comforting thought of death as an option in my darker times.
Through bullying, sexual assault, dissociation, loneliness, lovesickness, heartbreak, physical ailments, psychological abuse, homesickness for Dala, the torture known as Anna, psychotic episodes, depression, failure upon failure that eventually ended up shaping my life.
I have had nothing else as constant and comforting as death to hold on to. Except my family, but sometimes I needed to escape them too, their ignorance. They were very accepting and understanding, I never had any real problem with them. But they never even noticed the bullying, not even when it went so far that Anna came to me to save my life.
I told my mother the summer before last, about sort of what happened to me when I was 9 years old, in the car on my way to get locked up in the psychiatric ward for being suicidal. She drove me there. Then, just recently I told her that it was connected to Anna.
I had only discovered that connection that summer, and it was one of the reasons I thought I could not go on living anymore. Cause it wasn't only what the bullies did to me, it was also something that I did to another person.
It was so damn awful I don't think I can ever in my entire life tell a single soul what or who it was. I'm trying to protect that person as much as I just want to protect myself. I'm pretty sure they don't remember what happened, that only I do.
I hope so, for their sake, but it feels like I ruined that person's life and I'm watching what I created far too often as we still keep contact. We have to. And more than that, I can't possibly say. Maybe I've already said too much, and I'm sorry if I sparked your curiosity or something, but that is real darkness and it should never have happened. It's literally the worst thing I've ever done in my life, and the only things I can say in self defense, is that I was just 9 years old and that I had no idea that what I was doing was wrong in any sense.
It drove me mad, when the memories that I had became clearer and more visual. I knew Anna remembered and I pushed her to tell or show me. It really did drive me mad. My mood started shifting intensively, think borderline and bipolar combined, shaken up and watched through a microscope. I couldn't sleep, eat or drink for days before I crashed and it was just awful.
I couldn't handle remembering what I had done to someone that close to me. I thought that I should be locked up but couldn't handle prison. I googled intensively to find out if I could still be charged for that crime. Yes, it was indeed an actual crime, one of the worst imaginable at that too.
I really didn't think I could live with it. I don't know if I should ever let anyone know, if that would even be a good thing to do. I mean, I could do it as one of the last things before dying, to not have to face the consequences myself. Although I know that I can't be convicted for a crime I did before the age of 15, but there could still be other dire consequences.
It still haunts me. Sometimes day and night. And it should, I just wish I hadn't done it. So where does that leave me? Did God forsake me that very moment, did Anna come because of that or what I went through myself, am I forever damned because of it, was it right of me to pursue suicide?
You hear about it sometimes. On tv or in books and movies. About violent offenders deciding to end their lives because they can't deal with what they've done. It's almost seen as a morally correct act. Am I horrible for being able to move on and living with myself?
I don't often talk about this, it usually hurts just thinking about it, but I'm empty tonight and the questions run softly through my head. I'm calm, even though I know that that very moment literally ruined my life. And someone else's. So many lives were ruined those days. I think it went a few months between the two incidents.
And I still catch myself believing that I didn't know that what I did was wrong. I hadn't been taught much, or anything at all, about that topic yet at that age. It came later, and so did the realisation. That "what have I done" realisation that never stopped.
My world vs. your society
I'm trying to watch another quite horrible transguy documentary, as they keep misgendering him and viewing him as a freak of nature, almost. I would never have a documentary made about myself. Never. No matter how interesting my life might be for the public eye. In that case they can make one when I'm dead, cause that I somehow wouldn't mind.
I don't know, the whole media representation of transsexualism is disgusting to me. It's always been, and it's partially what made it harder for me to eventually come out for the first time, about the time I was 19 years old. Cause the media representation that I found when my first thoughts started coming when I was 15 was horrible.
It was only information about transgirls that I could find and it was always this "she used to be a man" or "look at what gross things he did to his body" when referring to a transgirl. It's just disgusting and awful. And that was what I was exposed to and probably what made me reconsider, to try and live as a girl instead of embracing myself and my true gender identity.
Society is so fucked up. Like what the hell?! I still sometimes get reminded of all the young transgender people who have killed themselves recently. Especially a transgirl named Leelah Alcorn (and of course the media used her male birth name, but I have actually, completely honestly, forgotten what that was now.)
She was all over tumblr and I tried to not be bothered by it, but it's just awful and she posted her suicide letter on tumblr. In it she said to fix the society. She killed herself because her family could not accept that she was trans. I think she was 16 or 17 years old, though I might remember her age incorrectly, but something around that.
Anyway, my point is that society is still so very fucked up when it comes to transgender people and how we are being treated. The laws that strap us down, cisgender people not accepting us, hate, discrimination, violence, murder, sexual assault, suicide. The list is too damn long. Also, specifically transgender women of colour have been murdered left to right lately. I honestly have no idea what's going on.
And that makes me almost even angrier because that involves racism too. I really hate racism, it just makes me so fucking angry. Like I have a classmate who is not white and she opened up about being called racist slurs by a teacher when she was a kid. I could almost not contain myself when she said that. I don't know why I almost react stronger to racism, but possibly cause I hate being white privilege myself.
It's stupid and I shouldn't dislike myself for being white. It's just as unimportant/important as any other skin colour. But I do hate that I am privileged in a way that makes some people look down on me. I hate that somehow my opinion matter less because I have that privilege. It's hard to explain, I come to realise.
But lately, I have become more aware of my privilege. As a mentally disabled, gay transgender person, I do have a lot of things going well for me. I have access to allowance, transgender care such as hormones and surgeries, I'm white and I'm male, I live in a country that tolerates my kind of people and I've never had a real reason to fear for my life. I'm middle class (brought up that way, at least) and I've never gotten in any kind of trouble for liking people of the same gender.
A lot of things are good. And I try to embrace that, somehow. Almost all of my problems are mental and has little to do with society. I'm a burden to it though. I am health care resources, living on allowance full time and I can't take care of myself. I'm not independent or smart enough to get a cool job. I am also lazy and selfish. I take up space but do nothing useful with it.
I don't often feel bad about being a burden to society, but more often I feel bad about society being a burden to me. Cause I'm also (kind of) a human being and should be treated as one. Transgender people have right too. Gay people have rights too. Crazy people have rights too. Because underneath all that I am an actual person and society has a knack for forgetting that kind of thing.
I'm not just pills in a bottle, a hospital patient, someone cared under LSS or a guy with girl parts. I'm a person and society just doesn't treat me that way. But I can say fuck society because I am that privileged. I can and do most often choose to turn off the outside world and stay inside my own cozy yet scary little world.
I mostly only blog about myself and that's what this blog really is about, but I just wanted to tell you that despite being too stuck up in my own little world, I do care. I just can't handle it. I have enough going on already in my life, I just can't worry about the lives of others too. Except from K, my best friends (to a certain degree), my family (also to a certain degree) and occasional other friends.
But the world at large? Not a chance, it would be too much. It was too much. Cause as I grew up in my teenage years, I was told to start opening my eyes to see the world outside too, and I tried that for a while, a good amount of years or so, but then my own reality caught up with me and the only way I could sort it was to shut out the real reality.
Then I forgot to care. Reality left me too. I was no longer holding on to it as I realised that there's no place for me in it. I just don't belong in the real reality, in your reality. In the reality where transgendered and people of colour get murdered or end their own lives. In the reality where women get attacked and brutalised, where men get killed by cops for no reason, where sexual assault and child molestation is more than just common, where war and total destruction is.
I have no place in it because I can't react to it right or because I don't react at all. I made a choice and your reality is just not where I want to live. No, I'm not touching the suicide topic again, just the isolation topic, I think. Okay, getting too tired to write, so I guess I'll just post this then.
I don't know, the whole media representation of transsexualism is disgusting to me. It's always been, and it's partially what made it harder for me to eventually come out for the first time, about the time I was 19 years old. Cause the media representation that I found when my first thoughts started coming when I was 15 was horrible.
It was only information about transgirls that I could find and it was always this "she used to be a man" or "look at what gross things he did to his body" when referring to a transgirl. It's just disgusting and awful. And that was what I was exposed to and probably what made me reconsider, to try and live as a girl instead of embracing myself and my true gender identity.
Society is so fucked up. Like what the hell?! I still sometimes get reminded of all the young transgender people who have killed themselves recently. Especially a transgirl named Leelah Alcorn (and of course the media used her male birth name, but I have actually, completely honestly, forgotten what that was now.)
She was all over tumblr and I tried to not be bothered by it, but it's just awful and she posted her suicide letter on tumblr. In it she said to fix the society. She killed herself because her family could not accept that she was trans. I think she was 16 or 17 years old, though I might remember her age incorrectly, but something around that.
Anyway, my point is that society is still so very fucked up when it comes to transgender people and how we are being treated. The laws that strap us down, cisgender people not accepting us, hate, discrimination, violence, murder, sexual assault, suicide. The list is too damn long. Also, specifically transgender women of colour have been murdered left to right lately. I honestly have no idea what's going on.
And that makes me almost even angrier because that involves racism too. I really hate racism, it just makes me so fucking angry. Like I have a classmate who is not white and she opened up about being called racist slurs by a teacher when she was a kid. I could almost not contain myself when she said that. I don't know why I almost react stronger to racism, but possibly cause I hate being white privilege myself.
It's stupid and I shouldn't dislike myself for being white. It's just as unimportant/important as any other skin colour. But I do hate that I am privileged in a way that makes some people look down on me. I hate that somehow my opinion matter less because I have that privilege. It's hard to explain, I come to realise.
But lately, I have become more aware of my privilege. As a mentally disabled, gay transgender person, I do have a lot of things going well for me. I have access to allowance, transgender care such as hormones and surgeries, I'm white and I'm male, I live in a country that tolerates my kind of people and I've never had a real reason to fear for my life. I'm middle class (brought up that way, at least) and I've never gotten in any kind of trouble for liking people of the same gender.
A lot of things are good. And I try to embrace that, somehow. Almost all of my problems are mental and has little to do with society. I'm a burden to it though. I am health care resources, living on allowance full time and I can't take care of myself. I'm not independent or smart enough to get a cool job. I am also lazy and selfish. I take up space but do nothing useful with it.
I don't often feel bad about being a burden to society, but more often I feel bad about society being a burden to me. Cause I'm also (kind of) a human being and should be treated as one. Transgender people have right too. Gay people have rights too. Crazy people have rights too. Because underneath all that I am an actual person and society has a knack for forgetting that kind of thing.
I'm not just pills in a bottle, a hospital patient, someone cared under LSS or a guy with girl parts. I'm a person and society just doesn't treat me that way. But I can say fuck society because I am that privileged. I can and do most often choose to turn off the outside world and stay inside my own cozy yet scary little world.
I mostly only blog about myself and that's what this blog really is about, but I just wanted to tell you that despite being too stuck up in my own little world, I do care. I just can't handle it. I have enough going on already in my life, I just can't worry about the lives of others too. Except from K, my best friends (to a certain degree), my family (also to a certain degree) and occasional other friends.
But the world at large? Not a chance, it would be too much. It was too much. Cause as I grew up in my teenage years, I was told to start opening my eyes to see the world outside too, and I tried that for a while, a good amount of years or so, but then my own reality caught up with me and the only way I could sort it was to shut out the real reality.
Then I forgot to care. Reality left me too. I was no longer holding on to it as I realised that there's no place for me in it. I just don't belong in the real reality, in your reality. In the reality where transgendered and people of colour get murdered or end their own lives. In the reality where women get attacked and brutalised, where men get killed by cops for no reason, where sexual assault and child molestation is more than just common, where war and total destruction is.
I have no place in it because I can't react to it right or because I don't react at all. I made a choice and your reality is just not where I want to live. No, I'm not touching the suicide topic again, just the isolation topic, I think. Okay, getting too tired to write, so I guess I'll just post this then.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)