Work to do

Old memories from my life in Uppsala suddenly come back to me. They mix with my dwellings on that last video chat with K. I can't get it out of my head, can't stop repeating what was said over and over until I tell Anna to stop reminding me or stop me from reminding myself. It's kinda 50-50 who's responsible for bringing it up. It's agonising, humiliating and plain annoying. I can't stand it.

Other than that I think that I'm doing remarkably okay considering the circumstances since that video chat. I'm still cutting, about once or twice a day but very shallow cuts so there will be no bleeding accidents or serious nerve damage in my beloved hands. By "serious" I mean from all the years I've been cutting my arms there has been slight nerve damage as that "skin" (read plain scar tissue) is pretty numb to the touch. One of the reasons why I don't dare pressing down is because I'm scared of causing nerve damage to my hands. My artist hands, I care for them to an almost ridiculous degree.

Other than that I'm still drinking Theralen like crazy. I mean, I take it in half millilitres now instead of drops. But I read on the label that the most common dosage for anxiety among adults is 40 to 60 mg which is far more than I take. I'm up at 20-30 mg, although I've been ordered 5-6 mg. So yeah, it's quite a heavy overdose according to my doctor, but not according to the label. And when it comes right down to it, I'd rather trust the label in this case, cause then I know that 20-30 mg doses are not in fact dangerous to me. It's just people being too fucking over protective around me. As usual.

I still end up rocking myself quite a lot and I still haven't lowered the volume of my music. Still smoke two packs a day and drink fairly big amounts of coffee, half reasonable amounts of booze (maybe 3-5 glasses every third day or so), I still eat junk and my sleep is bad. This night I only got 3 hours of sleep after desperately trying to sleep for 4 hours. My stomach hurt, my head was a mess and then I got all these stupid drawing ideas. I ended up sleeping in a corset to keep an even pressure on my hurting stomach, took a Treo (the only kind of non-prescription painkiller that works on me) and shut off the music.

This odd mixture of tiredness and restlessness is making it nearly impossible to both sleep and be awake. And my lack of care drives me to drink coffee sometimes as late as 2:00 at night. Then I just try to drug myself down with Theralen and Imovane. I mix and blend all my drugs into strange cocktails to keep me awake, keep the feelings at a distance, keep my thoughts in order and to uphold addictions at the same time. But it's the one thing that is the hardest: to go to sleep after I've done all that during the course of a single day.

It's exhausting, but I'm too wired, caffeinated, jaded, anxiety ridden and restless to be able to just... to just fucking relax.

I haven't completely started isolating again, I just got terribly bored of facebook and tumblr, in case you're wondering. I find all those gifs, videos, pictures and texts suddenly awfully dull and I turn myself inside out again: I can only see my own insides. As I continue writing my autobiography it doesn't seem to drag me down anymore, but rather it just engages me to want to finish it. I will soon, as I only have 2 chapters left to write. I've written 29, most of them the summer before last. Some of them won't be included in the finished work, those that are only informative or just a poem or what not, shit like that. Of course I won't exclude anything that is actually about my life, from my timeline, or how to put it. Only some of those extra chapters that I find to be... unnecessary.

So, I've got work to do, and I plan to be finished with it within a few weeks tops. That would include editing and tidying it up a bit. I won't edit it as meticulously as I did with Grimston, simply because this is written in my native language and I'm far better at it than I am with English. Also, I'm just not in the mood for editing yet another book 4 times just because. It's not that fun.

Then I'm not sure what to do with it. I'm thinking I'll change all the names to pseudonyms and then maybe send it around to random friends who wants to read it. Then put it away somewhere until I can make up my mind whether I want it published or not. I should get separate USB memory-thingies for each of my finished books and put them in a very safe place where they can't get lost, stolen or broken. Then also have back-ups of course.

I'm just ranting, I don't know where to begin.