I've lost my spark

I bring out my Bailey's again, even though it is just Tuesday. Cause I don't care and we've been over that before. I don't often use thinspiration, I just realised. It just feels awful looking at pretty and super thin people cause I'd die to look like them. Besides, it's hard to find pictures that appeal to me, as the thinness I want to achieve is kinda extreme. Usually if you google thinspiration you get pictures of girls with a BMI around 19-20, not emaciated men with a BMI below 17.

Although I found a few really good pictures but I don't like looking at them. So what's the point? My back hurts so incredibly much these days. It's this one spot close to my right shoulder blade, the muscle there, it feels like I'm getting stabbed ten times a day. Still I refuse to take painkillers.

Now I'm hanging out at the eating disorder forum and right now reading a thread about a person with a BMI at 11 eating 300 cals a day asking if they're gonna die soon. It's kinda heart tearing as they want to lose more weight. I can't finish my Bailey's, it's way too much calories, what was I thinking?! Not at all, probably.

They come so fast these thoughts, as I just can't decide if I should purge the booze or not. I promised myself no fucking purging but it digs a hole inside of me big enough to bury me. And somewhere in my stressed out brain I think this time I could control it better. Oh fuck no! It doesn't work that way, it controls you! And I don't care, I don't care, I don't care... it's not even certain that it would work after all these months of no purging. It's been like... nine months or so. Could I even if I tried? Do I even want to know? Fuck, my life is a mess anyway and I don't care about dying I don't care how dangerous it is, I want to die. Fuck it, just fucking fuck it.

Okay, that was way easy but pretty horrible. I'm really back with my ED, I'm really back now. First purge since February. I poured out the rest of my Bailey's, can't have this happening again today or tomorrow at least. I need some space to think things through. Like what the actual fuck I think I'm doing.

Okay I can't think right now. It's 0:57 and I'm done for. I won't even count the calories of that Bailey's, I'm pretty sure I got most of it up. From now on I have to find something else than alcohol to numb myself with, something that doesn't involve extra calories. I can still taste it in my mouth and smell it in my nose, how disgusting. I wonder if I'll reek tomorrow if I can get my lazy ass to school.

And how the hell do I avoid telling anyone about this in real life now that I've obviously started purging again as well as starving? I can't let them send me back to that place, I'll lie my fucking ass off and more, I'll do anything just to be left alone. Anything. My eating disorder will ruin me, it will tear me apart over and over before any of us are done, and I will let it. I want it to. Let the hunger, the pain, the coldness, the faintness and what more I can expect become me.

Like Christian Bale in "The Machinist" that's how thin I want to be. Love that movie by the way but hate the scene about the arm. And I've always wondered if that character was supposed to have an eating disorder or if he's just too messed up to eat and obsesses about his weight for no good reason. But it could just possibly be the only Hollywood movie that I know of portraying a man with an eating disorder. I have to re-watch it again sometime soon.

I'm just so torn. Purging only made it worse, but it freed me of my calorie anxiety, at least. I'll take my pills soon, try to get some sleep. So, I ate one tiny meal at 1:00 this morning/night then starved for 20 hours until I had a pie at 21:00, drank coffee throughout the day, then had one glass of Bailey's at 0.40 or so, panicked and went to purge it. What a mess. So now what? Am I gonna continue or try to only do it as seldom as possible? Do I even care? How well can I count on functioning at school or at all if I both starve and purge simultaneously?

My body would hate me so much. It feels like I'm playing with fire yet I don't care if I burn alive. I am playing with fire too when I basically smoke in bed. Have I given up so completely? I've decided not to give a damn, just go wherever it leads me. I decided that long ago actually. To let the darkness consume me, it might mean exactly this. Why try to fight it? Gonna lose it anyway.

I've given up fighting long ago, maybe that was why I purged right now, cause the need wasn't there before but suddenly it was. I'll just go with the flow, see where it leads me this time, second time around. I've lost my spark, I've lost my reason to live, who cares if I purge.

What I'm living for

I feel like I could never love life or enjoy being alive. It feels so very forced now, as if I'm only still alive to please others. Maybe that's why I'm washing my care away and turn my heart to stone, so that it would hurt me less the day I will finally have to leave. All the pain and sorrow I'd cause my loved ones, but I cannot live just for them forever. Do you even realise just how unreasonable that is in the long run? It might work for a few months, but not for 50 or so more years.

So yeah, right now I only live for other people's sake. My family mostly. And that includes my best friend. I don't know if she ever reads my blog here anymore, but I hope she does. I'm too fucked up to pick up the phone and send her a text message but I still want her to know that she matters. She matters so much even though it might seem like she doesn't anymore.

I visualise it as if we were holding hands all through our teens and early twenties and almost let go when I moved here, one more finger slipping away at a time, and now we only hold our pinkies. But somehow I think we still hold on to each other. Or at least I'm holding on to her as much as I can in this awful state that I'm in right now, unable to reach out, unwilling to although knowing that it destroys me.

Our distance hurts, the figurative more than the actual. But I'm just so damn broken I can no longer function in social contexts, and I hate using that stupid phone. A part of me is a bit old fashioned, as I do much prefer talking to people face to face than using a stupid phone or computer, but alas I am very limited to only those two options these days. It's never enough and it's never gonna be enough. The only thing that would be enough would be if we were next door neighbours able to see each other every, or almost every, day.

But I can't allow myself to think so much about her, it hurts too much. Although she is on my mind almost every day in some way or another. Often just as distant thoughts, snapshots of old memories mixed with newer ones, but always always there. How can I even live without her by my side? Honestly I don't think I can. I'm just barely hanging on. Always just a heartbeat away from suicide for a million reasons but yes, one of them is that I can't live without her by my side.

If I think more about her I think I'm gonna cry, so I'll stop here, but I thought it was important to get that out there, that she's still my soulmate sister and always will be. No one can replace her and I've never tried to, never going to.

I do plan to leave this Earth alone, as far away from everyone I love as I can possibly get. Wouldn't want for any of them to find my dead body, wouldn't want for them to know instantly. I draw back, and this time maybe for good. Or I'll come back, throw a surprise party and party as if tomorrow didn't exist and then leave. I should go to Uppsala at least just one more time, I should and don't think I don't want to because I do. It's just that I don't feel like I'm truly wanted there.

Like I'm just a visitor, a stranger in their apartment for one week that then disappears for a year again. It's been over three years now, since I left my last apartment in Uppsala. Time is so hollow here to me, like outer space. Infinite, dark and cold. I miss my old friends from the main land but remember that you left me long before I left you. I'm quoting Marillion and say that: "I'm sorry I never meant to break your heart, but you broke mine" and there is that.

Maybe Uppsala is now a part of my past, maybe I'll never go back there again. Or I'll travel there in secrecy to end my life there, when that time has come. Cause I'd much rather die in the only real city I could call my home than on this God forsaken island. And I don't give a shit if that means my family would have to transport my dead body halfway across the country. Suicide should be my time and place, the only thing I'll do just for myself. So they'd just have to deal with it.

I'm not much for goodbyes, especially not this kind. I don't want to sever the bond to the only people that really mean something to me only because it would make my death easier for me. If I had no one left to leave. So my silence is not for definite, I think I'll come back one day, sooner or later, but honestly I'm not sure at all at this point.

Let it consume me

It feels like the emptiness is my default emotion, like the one I always turn into again after any big emotion such as love, fear, sorrow, sadness, happiness or whatever. It has to be a strong emotion for me to default, but it almost always happens. It's like the emptiness is what's truly me and all that other crap just layers upon me. Perhaps it's one of few Borderline traits that I actually do possess, to constantly feel empty. In one way or another I do, but isn't it just the lack of actual emotions? Perhaps it's some kind of self defense mechanism, to shut down after a storm.

I have so many different self defense mechanisms it's getting hard to keep track of them all, but Anna is by far my major one. They all lead to some kind of mental illness factor and they all stem from traumas. Sometimes I just don't see anything else than pain, how I became my darkness as I let it finally consume me. I don't know where I'm heading towards, where that darkness will lead me. Probably to more pain and suffering, if I know it right, which I think I do.

My darkness isn't only bad though. It could be in the eyes of a decent human being who's never felt my darkness. It consumes, yes, but it also comforts. It hurts, but it also protects. Like a shield of black velvet. It's become everything that I am, or it will have soon enough. That's what I mean about giving in: to let that darkness completely take over, without surrendering, just truly let it. To want for it to take over, to rule me as I am it.

Without regrets or remorse, just finally accepting everything. Only then can I be truly ready to die. I don't cut myself anymore, and I believe this is the reason for that. I don't want to stop my monsters from coming: I want to let them in. I want for them to ravage my mind blindly. I want to feel every aching minute as if it was my last.

My last year in life, let's make it the worst ever. I'm not gonna have any more good years anyway, cause what can possibly be good about 2016 when that's the year I'm gonna end my life? Something will drive me to it, finally push me over the edge once and for all and I can already feel it coming.

I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my soul. That something big is gonna happen that will destroy me completely. Perhaps K dies, or someone else that I feel I'm very close to. I'm almost looking forward to what it can be. One more major event left in my life to look forward to. It's all I can do. But of course I'm dreading it too at the same time.

And I cannot leave the thought of dying behind me. It's 2:17 and I doubt I'll get that much sleep tonight. I mean, I'm easily breaking through 9 pills of Lergigan and one of Mirtazapin. I usually sleep good on 2 of the first and same of the second.

I'm bored, I'm empty, I'm broken and I want to go home again. This journey has been far too rough and long. I need a permanent vacation, a break where I could smoke every single cigarette on the planet. That's the kind of break that I want from this life. It's eating away at me. I do want to turn 27, it's just incredibly important to me. But after then I don't know how long I'll stay. Hours, days, weeks, months? Or even just one minute?

Would I kill myself on my own birthday? It would make a pretty headstone, if I get buried that is. I'm no longer a member of the Swedish Church, so such a funeral can be hard to hold. If I could have it my way I'd want to be buried somewhere in or close to Uppsala. I would want a coffin and everything. Real American funeral, cause I've been watching too much TV and got inspired. Also I still keep carrying around my organ donation card, just in case any of my half assed organs can save someone's life after I've died. It feels a bit like the last good thing I can do.

To maybe show the world that I'm not as heartless/selfish as I might seem to some. And besides, wouldn't it be awesome if there was someone, for example, walking around with my heart in their body. It's a big feeling for me somehow. Maybe it's got something to do with a certain movie that I once saw. In it there was a girl who had gotten a new heart from a donor and she somehow got some of the deceased person's personality along with it. And even though I might think that could never happen in real life, it's still an amazing thought to me.

So yeah, I'm giving up my organs if they're good enough and not just a complete heap of toxic waste. But I still don't know what people should do with my corpse once I'm dead. Funeral or no funeral? Try to make it possible to be buried or just let them cremate me? I'm trying to not only fulfill my own wishes but also what my loved ones would be okay with. Like I can't just decide for a very expensive and complicated funeral that my loved ones would not be able to afford nor be fit enough for such a task.

Oh, well then. It's not like I'm in such a hurry anyway. I have at least 7 months to finally make up my mind. Hopefully I'll be thin enough by the time of that birthday of mine. "Thin enough" as in I might not have reached my UGW (ultimate goal weight) but at least gotten down to 52 kg. 52 kg is exactly on the border down to underweight for me with my 168 cm. I just want so badly to be underweight! And I'm gonna work for it, be so sure I'm gonna.

Leftovers

And now that entry is over, I let the emptiness fill me again. I can, in a very small way, put that behind me for now. Or at least, I try to tell myself that I can. I'm calmer again, I think.

So I just showered with my clothes on cause I couldn't stand seeing my body. Is that hitting a new low? It's not even trans related, now it's just eating disorder and all I see is fat. Though it was freeing in a way too, cause who says I can't shower in a loose tank top while washing my synthetic dreads for the first time in like eleven days? I live on my own terms.

I have to let it go, somehow. I don't know how. What's past is past, right? My head feels so heavy and it could be the wet dreads but it felt heavy before I got into the shower as well. And I let my eating disorder consume me once again, starting with around 1000 calories a day, which is a pie, coffee, something else real small and diet coke. I won't count the diet coke but I'm counting everything else.

It's easier the days I'm barely awake. Cause then I don't feel so much hunger. It's still gnawing at my conscience, whatever's left of it. I can't let go even if I fill my head with numbers and weight obsession, I just can't let go. I'm back to writing down calories in my black little book for it. Last entry there was February 25ft. Okay, that's it for today, I'm gonna pass out in my bed, hopefully.

Listen carefully if you really want to know

Maybe I did start hating myself around the age of 10, after those things happened. They ruined me, I ruined me, forever. Such wounds never really heal. I swore an oath to myself, to never tell a living soul, and sometimes I'm okay with that. Other times it's killing me. When I look at myself and what I did that one time, all I see is a monster. It was such an inhuman act, such a horrible crime. And it's eating away at me.

When I first found out what really happened, when I dug too deep into my mind during the summer of 2013, the thought of ending my life was stuck in my head. People have killed themselves for much lesser remorse. Do I even feel remorse? Sometimes, sometimes not. Because I didn't know that what I did was wrong in any sense, I was way too young to comprehend any such matters.

I've hinted at the nature of the crime, in times when I didn't care much about anyone's reactions. Not many have confronted me about what I've written about it, and I've never really spoken about it. At least, never into such detail as I tend to in my blog here. Or in poems. My poems always, always tend to go into more detail than I'm actually comfortable with.

It was a sex crime. Can I even say that much? Maybe now that I've abandoned most people who matter to me, and I guess I've in a way, also abandoned their opinions. Maybe now that I no longer care what people could think of me. I've said it was horrid, I've said I was too young to know what I was doing. 9 years old and committed a sex crime? Maybe now you can understand.

Just how fucked up I am, in that area, and how much it's been fucking me up. Perhaps, no I'm pretty sure, that is also a reason why sex is so repulsive to me now. It has ruined way too much. Way too much. It has crawled into the very essence of my soul and stained it from the inside and out. I know that the sexual assault I went through not long before led me to commit a very similar act myself, but my crime was worse. In the eyes of the beholder, or in the eyes of my victim, or in my own eyes, how can I know for sure what was worse? I can't, but it's my interpretation. They let me go almost instantly, of what I can remember, while I wasn't too fond of letting my victim go. I was stubborn for reasons unknown.

I was more fucked up right afterwards than I was able to remember for 15 years. I thought it was an innocent game up until the summer of 2013, until it revealed to me what I actually had done. How can I even live with myself? That question does pop up from time to time, to which I answer that I simply don't know, I just do. It's been by far the hardest thing I've had to deal with, worse than what I went through, worse than the rape when I was 17, worse than anything.

I'm calm right now, telling you this, although my hands are riddled with cold sweat and it's like I've got some kind of tunnel vision. It's all I can think about. Somehow I picture myself, two years ago, standing outside of my apartment, smoking a cigarette and not knowing what I should do. I remember when I desperately googled everything I could find, on if it was possible I could get imprisoned for that crime if it somehow slipped out of me what I had done.

I knew I had to take it with me to the grave, exactly what it was, and to whom. All I'm saying now is that it was of sexual nature and similar to what happened to me right before. You'll never know to whom it was, no one ever will. I suppose it's the one and only secret I'll keep no matter what, but I do know it's just to save my own skin, if anything could potentially happen if it did come out.

It doesn't keep me up at night since obviously I'm sleeping quite a lot these days, but it is gnawing at my conscience. That it took me so many years to truly remember, that it ruined me so much. Perhaps my sex life truly is permanently dead after that discovery, I don't know. I don't think I'll ever be capable of having normal sex with a normal view on it after realising what I did. Damaged to asexuality, and that's the truth. I damaged myself so completely and I can't even imagine how much I ruined that other person. Although, I do know.

All it took was a tumblr post this time and I'm drowning in the darkest corner of my mind again. How much darker can it get? Would I even want to know...? And that's why I'm sure, that if there is a Hell, other than this place, I will go there. I believe, like so many others, that sex offenders would get one of the worst spots in that place.

And it's all so fucked up, you know, cause half the time I don't know which side I'm really on. The victim, or the offender? The world is so far from being black and white, it's never fucking simple. And I go into cases of some kind of mortal fear every time I see things online related to rapists and what literally everyone thinks society should do with them. So kill me, so hang me or shoot me in the head. Cause once it comes down to it, I do want to die anyway.

And I think you should know, I think you have the right to, finally know what kind of monster has been hiding in the person you view as your friend, for all this time. And I know, that for being the offender I sure as hell am putting a lot of blame somewhere else. It was my decision, my choice to do what I did, yet it's like I blame it on something or someone else. Those that attacked me, cause I'm pretty sure it never would have happened otherwise. What a hell hole Alunda must have been, what were we kids really up to before our age had reached to double digits even?

Or maybe all schools were that horrible, what do I know, I only have that one to compare with and it's not much, but it's everything. I've heard other stories around, and maybe the ones I really should blame are the adults, the teachers, for never teaching us kids what was wrong or right? Were we just suppose to know? How?

Wasn't my victim even someone I was suppose to protect? Oh, that hurts even more. But it's true. There are no lies in this entry, it's as close to the truth as I'll ever let you, so listen carefully if you really ever wanted to know.

In my autobiography I don't include this much of what happened, but more on how fucked up I was the following years, ages 10 through 13. How I was dealing with Anna, other voices, dissociation, self harm and how I revolted against my bullies in fairly strange but effective ways. Right now, I barely understand how I even survived.

There's a diary, somewhere in my collection, I can't even remember what colour it is, where everything is written down. Everything except from who my victim was. Just in case anyone would find and read it. It's maybe obviously, written June or July 2013 when my memories came back. No, I don't even remember which month it was. I just let it be there in my book shelf, completely on display, cause why would anyone get the idea to read all of them through?

I was beyond myself, far beyond myself when I wrote that down in that diary. Just had to get it out, somehow, somewhere. I still haven't accepted it, I don't think I ever will. It's by far the most awful thing I've ever done, but not the only awful thing. I did something else, much later, but entirely different and definitely not in the same category. For some reason that's an even better kept secret of mine.

Wow, those dark corners of my mind really haunt me tonight. No rest for the wicked. So yes, I really am a criminal but I guess I just hide it well. Not so strange why I suddenly realised why being around cops has always made me feel uneasy for back then to me unknown reasons. Perhaps afraid that they would one day just look me in the eye and just know. I don't know, maybe I'm being irrational again. For crying out loud I need another cigarette...

There are so many layers of me, from dark to darker and the saint most new people see when they first meet me is just a surface that I don't know why they always see cause it's not even there. But yeah, of course there's so much more to me than this. But not really a part that would never hurt a soul. Maybe I just am one of those tragically hurt people that became an offender myself. Only once though, or technically twice but yeah.

So maybe my surface has been cracking lately, as I lie to people I really do care about and it hurts them and I try to repair it but then I lie again. Cause I can't deal with the truth, any truth, anymore. And I care less and less about other people's feelings. It's like instead of healing with time I just break more and more until there's just nothing left to break. It's the only way I can describe it, to me everything is either moving on or going under and there's nothing else. Perhaps you've noticed, I don't know.

In my world, all I see is degrees of pain and darkness, or possibly the lack of it. Cause I'm not always drowning, not always wanting to die. Just that most of the time I am, and I do often get that kind of tunnel vision. It's hard to break out of, especially when I isolate and only have my own thoughts. And it's not like I think I would feel up for discussing this either, I'd probably just state it was a one time thing and that I'll never go down here again, but knowing myself, I probably will. Some day.

But right now, it's just important that I get all of this out of me, all these thoughts and feelings that won't stop spreading like the plague inside my stressed out mind. I can't stop chain smoking, can't stop thinking. Eventually I'll have to stop this vicious circle and do something else, something safe, like playing WoW or whatever. And I'm too disgusted with myself to be able to eat even though I'm hungry as hell.

Hell... maybe I made my own hell that day when I was 9. Maybe that is my curse, defiling everything inside me. I think I'll stop now, I just have to.

And now I recognise myself again

The coffee is disgusting, the cigarette smoke gets in my eyes. I slept for another 16 hours of disturbed some kind of sleep where I was partially awake, partially dreaming. Don't know why I bothered getting up at all. Just need to buy some food then I can go back to bed, basically.

I'm trying to play WoW and it makes me more nervous than usually for some reason. I'm not doing anything unusual, just questing in Searing Gorge on my level 51 undead monk. The only melee class that I'm able to handle, especially with heirlooms. So what's the deal? I don't know.

It's not WoW making me feel like shit, it's something inside me and I don't know what it is. It almost feels like an anxiety attack... wow, I don't have time for that kind of shit. Okay, two good things I did about it: 1, I lied down on the sofa and 2, I took a shower until the hunger got too extreme. Now I'm just hoping that coffee can get me going again cause of reasons and I'm out of food.

It seems both me, the doctor and my shrink agree that Anna is a dissociation related to a childhood trauma, so all this time I've always been closer to DID than Schizophrenia after all. Not saying that I have DID, but it's in the same category, of dissociative disorders. I don't know if anything's really been diagnosed since I'm not really out there crying for help. Rather just living my delusional life as I always have, sometimes thinking that Anna is more real than me.

Now I'm both too cold and too warm at the same time. This anxiety attack sure is mild but long lasting. I don't know what to do, I'm seriously running out of options and that razor blade somewhere on my desk is whispering to me. Alluring me with its power and magic how can I say no much longer? Another cigarette, perhaps this time it will work. Did I really just put on deodorant cause I'm not exactly experiencing any of its effects...

The last two or three days I've been absolutely miserable, and I'm not sure why. It could be a number of reasons, or it's just that the fake calm that I've been able to uphold for so long is falling apart and there's nothing that I can do about it. I don't know what could possibly interest me in life anymore, as I turn to my bed more often than not, to just sleep it all away. And for crying out loud how am I supposed to get to the grocery store with this anxiety attack they close in less than two hours!

I can give it half an hour but that's it, then I really have to go or starve until I can go the next day. Those are my options, cause I'm really, really all out of food. Okay, I'm back home again, but oh damn it really took the best of me, walking to the store and back. Gotta rest for a bit before I eat my pie. I couldn't get it all down. Left about a quarter of it or so. This anxiety is really eating me up. And it never passes, is it just begging of me to do something awful, or what?

Maybe I should update my profile picture on tumblr, I can't decide. I don't have blue hair anymore. In fact I've changed quite a lot since that photo was taken sometime in the beginning of summer. Now my hair is mainly black again, with too few, long black dreads braided in. My beard is back again and I usually cover my bad skin with make-up. I might take new pictures when next I do my make-up. Like Monday or Tuesday. If I care to.

And this anxiety is still tearing me apart, I have no idea what's going on. Maybe I need to figure it out, maybe I can't. 4 hours anxiety just isn't fun. I've rested on the sofa, I've taken a shower, I've gone to the grocery store, I've eaten half a pie, nothing works. I'm getting real tired of this shit now. Now I'm just sitting here, rocking myself, cause I've run out of options.

Finally took some theralen, but skipped my lergigan cause I'm saving up for a slight overdose. It doesn't do much or any harm at all, seeing as it's anti histamines. I'm listening to Dido as I'm waiting for a WoW character to reach Stormwind so that I can mog it again. Always getting tired of my mogs.

Still not better, still not fucking better. I'm counting the hours whether that's good or bad and I'm up at 6 now. Why does it always have to get worse just because it can? I'm trying to write about it but I'm at a lack of words for it. Soon I'll take my saved up dosage of pills and try to sleep it off, what else can I do? I've literally tried everything else.

I'm zoning out from doing absolutely nothing but staring right forward. Maybe giving up is the last thing I can try? I'm so tired. I've only been awake for 6 hours and I'm so tired I feel I could go to sleep. But then I can't. Just tried. Sigh. I find my way back to the eating disorder online forum, just silently watching the most recent posts and threads. Don't know if I'll post anything myself. My profile picture there is from almost a year ago, I was at my thinnest but other than my weight I don't look very different from now. I think I'll keep it as a confidence boost.

Cause I'm getting back to that weight and beyond. Just... one thing at a time. I can't just starve off 10 or so kg in no time. What a nightmare it's been, what a nightmare I'm willingly getting back into. If anyone should ever know, it should be them, over at that forum. I made the mistake of telling people before, I won't do that mistake again. I finally managed to kick that chocolate habit and I can stand being a bit hungry like every single day, so it should work, given enough time.

If anyone ever asks, I'll just tell them I'm in that kind of period where food is just a bother again. Damn I suddenly feel like having a salad but I have no such things at home. No vegetables at all. Maybe I'll buy some tomorrow if I still feel like having that. Just plain chicken salad.

So far I'm only up at 740 kcal for today, but then I've only been awake for 6, no now it's 7, hours. Maybe all this mess is because I've started starving again? It might be, I don't care. Okay, I think I'm finally riding out the storm, cause left is only hunger and sadness. I'm so-so managing the hunger with a diet/protein shake and not doing a shit about the sadness. It can be there, what do I care.

Maybe I am feeling better than yesterday, cause then all I could think about was suicide. I wanted to keep you from that fact, that's why I wrote so little here. But today all I think of is anxiety, sadness in general and some eating disorder related stuff. Not gonna go back to purging though, that only gave me more problems than I could handle and it didn't solve a shit. I'm gonna try being careful, so careful that it hopefully won't trigger a binge. That's what ruined everything last time.

This diet/protein shake sure is hard to flush down. Everything is, yet the hunger is tearing me apart. My diet plan so far is one pie a day, one diet shake or something similar whatever the store has in, lots of coffee and some diet coke. This time I really do want to disappear, get thinner every day until I'm just skin and bones. Fuck everything takes so long for me, I don't have that kind of time for crying out loud.

I'm still rocking, slowly back and forth, as some kind of comfort. Be still my future, when I'm done I'll have nothing left to leave.

One day at a time

I'm just very non-creative today and all I see is darkness and the fear that lives within it. I don't know what to say, I'm tired yet sleepless and it's a never ending circle. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow but likely not.

I'll bleed, but not today

There's a certain feeling when you've been listening to the same song for half a week, day and night, wherever you go. I don't even know exactly what it is with this specific song, but the words "let me go, let me leave" that repeats after every chorus. Maybe that's what I want you to do, all of you. Just let me leave.

I broke my computer mouse and I can no longer scroll. Irritating, just doesn't quite cover it. My heart beats fast for no reason, all I had was some booze and some thoughts. I think a lot about Caspian, I fantasised about finding him for an hour. I just lied down on the sofa with cigarettes and thoughts. Works like a charm every time. The one thing I can always count on, that my thoughts will be there, ravaging my mind through and through.

Damn I feel awful. As if everything goes against me today. Or lately. I think this is just the beginning of something more awful. I'm drinking myself to some kind of oblivion on a Wednesday night, I don't actually care about if I miss school tomorrow because of it.

And all that time I could barely even stand looking at why did I pretend? Maybe because I tried to but failed. All I wanted was a safe friendship, something that would never lead anywhere but that's the thing about people, anyone, they take you places and you take them places no matter what your intentions are. What were my intentions? I only wanted someone to talk to when my friends in Uppsala abandoned me and I was all alone on an island that I hate.

But nothing ever goes my way and I despise the human race. Maybe the few people I could ever tolerate are starting to get too deeply on nerves as well. And wishing the whole planet dead is not just something I say, I really do wish it. I've lost touch, I can't stand myself anymore. As if I ever could. I can't stand the humanity in me, I just want to be a full fleshed demon again. And I just want to go home.

Maybe I'm still looking for someone to replace... what I once had but now is gone. No matter how much I refuse to admit it, I think I lost that person and I'm so lost without them. They're not dead or moved somewhere further than Uppsala, they're just not in my life anymore. We were so close, closer than I thought I could be with anyone without any romance involved. If you read this, you know who you are, but somehow I don't think you bother to read my blog anymore. I do understand, but at the same time I don't. We shared everything, at least all the way up until 9th grade, and throughout our teenage years. Soulmate sister, where have you gone?

I'll leave this Earth in less than a year, will I ever hear from you again, will you ever hear from me again? I cannot know either way. I'm drunk and can barely write, but everything I say is still true. I thought it before tonight. Maybe I'll never contact you again, just drowning in myself, or maybe I'll just randomly call you or whatever, tell you straight up that this is our chance, yours and mine and then no more.

Cause I know, you didn't abandon me more than I abandoned you. I've been so great with that lately, abandoning every single person I can. I don't know why, but being alone has been better than anyone's company, I don't know why. I do not seek to give forgiveness, if it's needed I can't give it. And I want to destroy everything, whatever's left to destroy in my life, until there's nothing left, but whatever weapon of choice I hold in my hands to end it all.

Maybe there is no right way to go about it, maybe I'm just delusional longing for what never existed but even if so, even if so: anything is better than here. Anything, fucking anything. This isn't a suicide letter, it's just me having a bad day, cause I still intend to wake up tomorrow, I always do. And I don't have any plans set. I'm just in an echoing dark chaos that never ends and it's been pulling me away lately, closer to my core.

No, don't even think it, no one can save me, not even you. I will live, until my next birthday and then I don't know when I'll do it. You know it's in April but not everyone does so I guess I'll just leave it there. It's a little more than 6 months until then, can I even hold on for that long? I might try and fail once more on the way, but that means I would fail. If you don't believe in destiny, believe when I die after I turn 27 but never before. No matter how many million times I try in how many million ways before then.

My words may fail me but I believe I got my point across, I do know that I'll be forced to live at least until next spring no matter how achingly much I'd rather just end it right now. So maybe you refuse to believe what I believe, but that's okay too, you know it is. To me, everyone has got to have their own belief, but fact remains. I'm suicidal but I'll wait for my stupid prophecy which is that I will end my own life at the age of 27.

And the only real reason I never came to Uppsala this summer was because I was a mess and I couldn't fucntion. And as the autumn moved closer I knew I wasn't getting any better. Also, I wanted to wait until the autumn when there was gonna be more parties, but then I got worse and now I can't come at all. I don't know if I'll manage to visit you again before I die. But I hope so, for one last goodbye if not else.

I've almost emptied a big bottle of Bailey's now, everything's a haze. I guess I'll go to bed early, I have nothing left to say for now.

Wrapped in barbwire

"I beg for mercy before the dark
holding on to my madness I can't go on
if only they could hear me bark
I wouldn't be so alone

Silence will kill my patience
over ruled by timeless shatter I can't go on
these dark thoughts upon my conscience
my broken heart slowly turned to stone

Required to live how can I
my torn up past in shards I can't go on
and why should I even try
to stay alive before the dawn

For ages I've been haunted
by these memories I can't go on
with a homesickness unwanted
I counted my reasons to stay and there was none

Carrying my frozen soul around
with this shell I hate I have to go on
my home is lost and can't be found
and everything I believed is gone"


Today is shatter, today is calm. My homesickness is increasing but yeah, I have to go on. I'm not sure why but I've always felt like I'm forced to be here. To stay when I'd rather leave. I'm semi-suicidal with a wish to just close my eyes and never wake up again, yet I'm playing around with my new foundation that just arrived with the intention of wearing it this upcoming winter. I am torn, as if I just know that if I try to end my life again it's not gonna work cause the 17th time is not the charm and I might as well have a back-up plan anyway.

Cause I wouldn't succeed, it's not my time yet. I feel it in my soul, that yearning knows it has to wait. I have to turn 27 years old, it's important for some reason. I don't know if that may be of any consolation at all but it could be. Though, at this point I'm not sure if I may or may not try before my next birthday or not. If I get desperate enough, sad enough or just can't take it anymore.

The emptiness is my only comfort yet it's tearing me apart. This lack of emotions is my protection yet it's what's keeping me from being alive. I don't want to be alive, to feel alive or to live at all. If I can't be literally dead at least being figuratively dead is a step in the right direction.

And all I ever care about is cigarettes, coffee and good music. I guess it's what keeps me standing still instead of going backwards, cause I sure as hell ain't going forward. I don't even want to, I'm fine with being in an eternal stand-still until my time is up. I don't want to explore life anymore, see people or places, I don't care about getting better cause I'm past the point of ever getting better. There is no "before" that was better that I can go back to. It's always been a mess, an infinite dark chaos. I'm made of it, always have been.

I miss Dala, I miss Kazanndra and Caspian and I miss myself. Who I used to be in their company. I'm sensing that I will soon enough start obsessing about Dala again. Perhaps attempting suicide again to return there. It's like that 50% chance of me not ending up there doesn't matter anymore, cause anything would be better than this life, or it just has to be.

Almost constantly I can feel a pulling from the other side. As if something is calling for me from over there. I think it's Caspian, or I hope it is. It could also be the devil. Who knows. If there's anything I would like to take with me when I die it would be cigarettes and the music that I love listening to. Everything else that I want is already there.

I wonder if there are more heavens than Dala. I guess there has to be, just that the thought never really occurred to me before. Cause there were no humans in Dala and even though I despise the human race they're not all that bad so that I would think they should all go to hell. And they've gotta go somewhere. I have no idea what so ever where humans go when they die. But I have a feeling that it depends, on their belief and what they deserve and so on.

There are so many different worlds and dimensions out there, and I've only been to three, as far as I can remember. And this dimension is by far the worst. I never could have imagined that Earth was such a horrible place before I came here. But then again, I did take Dala for granted and probably didn't think much about what other worlds there could be out there, except from the one I had been living in before Dala.

I remember very little from that world or dimension, I don't even know which it was and I don't have a name for it. Only darkness, a calm and soothing darkness, rain and boredom. I figure as much that it was a demon world/dimension but that's really all I know. I don't miss it as much as Dala, it's just a part of my past that I no longer have any attachment to.

I feel sorrow, too heavy and distant to explain. As if something is pushing me down and pulling me apart at the same time. So much has been lost, I can't count it all. Maybe I mourn my past, afraid that it might be long gone and I won't ever see it again. I would not want to exist any longer if it's gone forever. I'd want my soul to be permanently destroyed.

Cause it's the only thing that I exist for, the only reason I'm looking forward to death more than anything in life. But no matter how little I like something in life, I should still hold on to it cause if I die there's no going back. If I decide to die, I should be 100% sure that I know exactly what I'm doing. And I'm not. I'm not 100% sure at all. All I have now is this incredibly strong homesickness that I really can't control. It might drive me over the edge before I can ever be 100% sure, but I am trying to hold on. Just in case. If something wonderful could possibly happen in this life, something that would make me think "I'm happy that I never did kill myself" it would be worth staying.

But I'm pretty pessimistic and don't actually believe anything like that could ever happen in this hell. It's Hell, after all. But I'll try to stick around, at least until my 27th birthday, if I can. All I can do is try. I don't want the psych ward's help this time or ever again. I'd rather die than go back there. So my only option is to lie to everyone and say that I'm fine when in fact I'm not.

I could go on forever counting all of my reasons to leave Earth but I still have no reasons to stay, except waiting for miracles. I just visited Facebook, one last time. I didn't inactivate or delete my account, just shut down the tab. So you should know now, who ever reads this, that I can't be reached on Facebook anymore. Internet, people and being social only feels like a burden. I'm half social at school to keep my appearance up, to let them believe that I'm not as far gone as I actually am. Still telling myself that it's not me being forced, it's a choice I made to come back to school this term and I can always leave whenever I want to.

Maybe other people are just in the way between me and death. And I can't have them trying to force me into living when that should be a choice too. Isn't living a choice? Isn't life a gift? Not something you're forced to do as if it was your duty, like a job you can't ever leave. Cause I feel very forced. By my family, the crew, school and the psychiatry maybe most of all. They think they can own me and my right to stay or leave life. It's not illegal to commit or try to commit suicide, but they all act as if it is. I don't like how the psychiatry is willing to force me into treatment if I don't decide to go there on my own after a suicide attempt that fails.

So that's why I'm lying to them, saying that I'm fine, cause I know that they can force me into treatment if I refuse to when they think it's bad enough. It's easier to tell them that nothing has changed, that I'm still doing alright, than to embellish lies further, so that's what I'm doing, just pretending that nothing's changed. They won't hear the Swedish word for suicide cross my lips ever again. But oh, they would not be surprised if I do end up dead somewhere along the way later on. They'd know I've been lying.

Perhaps they already know, but it's not like lying is a crime either. I have my reasons. And the only reason I'm still seeing my shrink is also to keep up appearance, to pretend that there's at least the slightest spark in me that wants to get better. Pretending that I'm just not ready yet, cause the minute my heart broke for the 10th time I knew my life was over and everything past that incident hasn't really meant anything. Or, it has, but not enough for me to want to stay.

What I'm trying to say I guess, is that I don't feel like it's my choice to stay at all. If not people on Earth are forcing me to stay, the higher powers are. God, Satan, whoever put me in this place and put that curse on me. Whoever wants to make sure I've suffered enough first. I'll show them suffering. I'll fucking show them as I deprive myself of what I might need the most: social contact, love, friendships. I won't let anyone close enough for me to be able to care about them. I can't have them on my conscience.

And maybe that's what it's all about. My fucking conscience. I've become colder, meaner, better at lying and deceiving all because I can't handle having people around me. I want to keep them at a distance and if they get too close I'll hurt them. There's barbwire wrapped around my body that can cut you open. I'm not as sweet as I used to be and these past few years, I've hurt almost every single new person that came into my life. Online and in real life. I'm not even sure what I'm doing, I miss being in good company but then I get scared and when I can't find a good way to escape everything fucks up and it just turns into a mess. And yeah, I never find a good way.

And I know that sounds awful, and my almost complete lack of emotions at this point is also starting to get disturbing. I draw back from a society that I hate, from a species that I never could relate to but that I'm supposedly a part of. I'm alienated from the one thing that should matter, where does that leave me?

I don't feel the loneliness anymore, I just can't feel anything, but lately the sadness has been slowly showing through the cracks again. That hopelessness that just darkens everything and dulls it into nothing. That turns castles into sand, dreams into vapour and goals into meaninglessness. Why should I stay, if not only to please others? I'm going down a downward spiral that started sometime last week or so and I'm not even gonna try to stop it. I'll keep writing about it, keep doing what needs to be done whatever that may be. But I won't fight, I'm done fighting for the rest of my life how ever much longer that's gonna be cause that's something I just cannot know: no one can. So will I stay or will I leave? I honestly don't know.

Switching hells

Tumblr... the only reason I go back there is to intentionally pour salt into my wounds. How could I stand it there before? I'm not happy, I'm fucking far from it but at least avoiding most of internet I've been capable of avoiding most kinds of self harm. I don't drink, I don't cut, I only smoke cigarettes. In a never ending chain with the intention of dying from lung cancer. But still. My anxiety is at this point almost non-existent, but the rampaging emptiness and my extreme homesickness for Dala take up all the space instead. Not that much better. Just trading one hell for another.

I wonder when I'll stop going to school cause I just don't care anymore, or when they'll kick me out cause I'm going there with a severe lack of reasons to. I'm just taking up space and air there, but at least I'm paying for my own coffee.

And I still have coffee at 3 am the night before a school day. I still bother to put on make up flawlessly before going to school even if that means I'll be 20 minutes late. I still eat the same junk food despite hating how fat I am. I don't know exactly where I'm going with this, but I'm sure you'll figure it out.

I accidentally read something on that god forsaken website tumblr a couple of minutes ago and now I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. K... I really am completely chanceless, am I not? Whoah, I suddenly got suicidal urges that just came from nowhere. Don't know if I'll put them into practice or not. Give it a few days and some booze that I've been meaning to buy for a while now but every time I get to the store it's been too late and they're closed.

Maybe I'll take a day off tomorrow and just come with the excuse that it was special stuff during the forenoon that I couldn't handle. I wonder for how long I'll be able to come with that excuse at school as I do think I could handle it, but I just don't want to. I live with the only security that I can just quit going to school if the demands on me are getting too high. I never call in sick, I never care to, I just don't go there.

Oh goodie, I had some kahlua left. Mixed it with soy milk and it slips down easily. An already tried out, slight overdose on some of my medication on that. Just trying to survive, cause believe me, there are far worse things I could do right now. Some things I'm just better off not knowing. I want to scream how I hate you, hate you, hate you but I just can't cause it's not true. I love you, I always will. But maybe you too are better off not knowing certain things.

How much is it of my rights and your rights? What should I let you know before I die? What would you want to know, what kind of information would be reasonable to give in such a situation? I can't imagine how much it would hurt you if I died, but I really can't know whether it would be worse or better for you to know that I loved you so much. That I waited for you even when I should have known better and just moved on with my life. I just can't move on. Not ever.

I locked myself in time the day I found out about you being back with your partner again, said to myself that whatever happens, nothing will ever change within me. I may change my looks once every fortnight but everything else is exactly the same. I can't lose you I never had you I still lost you...

There's no answer without the question Y

Still echoing beats my heart
I never knew where to stop or start
As silence became my friend
I no longer needed to pretend

Brothers in battle I fought by your side
until it all washed away with the tide
and now my emptiness rules
cause maybe we were both fools

Only time will tell what remains
as I wrap my thoughts up in chains
Too fucked up to tell you to your face
that everything we said was left in a haze

Between the truth and the lies
no one wins and everybody dies
My burdens and mistakes
an excuse always shatters and breaks

And tear me up for what I've done
throw it at me but I'm on the run
but still echoing beats my heart
I never know where to stop or start

Moving on

How many times a day don't I find myself trying to alter things, anything, magically just to remember that I can't do that anymore? Why can't I make myself look less disgusting? Why can't I find Caspian? Why can't I go back home? Everything, literally everything seems impossible here compared to Dala. If only I could do magic, if only I could practice telepathy, if only I could change time and make things work for me instead of against me. But I can't and I'm stuck in a world that I hate, in a situation that I hate.

Maybe that's why I'm giving up on people, on being social, keeping up old friendships that seem to wither without my constant nagging and reassurance checking. I don't want to be that friend, I don't want to tell you that you all suck because obviously your stupid lives including work, school and family are a million times more important than our friendship and you can't even find one sodding week a year to really spend some time with me? Well fuck you, fuck you, fuck you then. I'll wait for you to come crawling back if you ever start missing me, but I won't cry forever if you won't. Apparently distance is literally everything and I would have to live in your brains to get treated like an actual friend. Sorry, not sorry.

Maybe I was right to leave Uppsala behind me. Maybe I really was tired of that place and nothing would ever have changed if I had stayed. I kept hoping, I kept my stupid hopes up but it must have been for nothing. A whole year I waited for you over there, but you were just never there. I don't have much of a life. I'm stuck in my own fucked up brain unable to get out and live a normal life. I don't have that choice. You all knew that, I was never gonna get more interesting, I was never gonna get a decent education, I was never gonna get a job or a family of my own.

Still, you abandoned me. Not the other way around. If you're trying to tell me otherwise you're wrong. I moved after I had waited for a year. I waited for your stupid asses to come over for a cup of coffee or tea or lemonade or whatever or anything. But nothing. You never came over. You were busy, you said. Who the hell is busy for an entire year? I got the point. It might have taken me a while but that's because I cared so much about you and our friendships. All of them, although some more than others.

I wasn't sad when I moved away. I was empty, hollow. I had no reason to stay in a shitty apartment in a shitty town where nobody cared enough to meet me in person anymore. I got it, I just don't matter anymore. I don't think I have for a long time. It's not okay, but I'm moving on.

And so, slowly I'm disconnecting from society and the human race. Cause I think somehow that's easier than a clean break. I have no idea where in life I'd be in 5 or 10 years if my prophecy isn't true. I can't imagine a future on this earth, not even a bad one, just nothing at all. It's like staring into a black abyss and you can't even hear the echo of your own voice in it. It's completely empty. It's always been like that, I've been living without a future for a long time and I do realise there might be some kind of paradox in that phrase.

I don't know what I want to do about Uppsala anymore. Well, what I do want is for everyone to read this and realise and welcome me with a big, never ending hug, but I doubt that's gonna happen. I guess I'll just wait. See what next year has to offer, if it will really be my last. If it will be and I won't see you again, then try to remember that I did care and tried to show my care as good as I could until my last breath and if you feel I am wrong in my most recent interpretation of the situation, please, I am just trying to understand. It's just my view point, what I think I see and hear and of course I could be wrong about it all. I really do hope that I am.

I don't want to end this entry like that, just throwing blame around when maybe I'm the one to blame. Maybe I'm just tired of messing up, or so used to messing up that I couldn't even see it when it was right in front of my eyes when I for once wasn't the one who messed up. Maybe it was both ways. I've really been trying but I'm not gonna anymore. I'm done. This is me giving up on you, giving up on being social like I'm supposed to be. My facebook account can lie there and collect dust, so can my tumblr account and my skype account.

K, if you ever fall blindly for me, don't ever hesitate, you're the only one I'll always keep waiting for. You still have my cell phone number and I'm always just a phone call away. I, on the other hand, sadly managed to lose your number when my old cell phone died. I wish I could call you at 3 am and just talk nonsense, or deep stuff or whatever. I miss your voice, but I suppose you too are busy with your life.

Okay, I officially give up, I can't make at least a semi-happy ending to this entry. Not today.

Darker and further away

Fill me up with music for I cannot stand the thoughts in my head. Endlessly, constantly repeating and causing storms. I live for tasteless coffee and cigarettes and I still do everything I can to be as antisocial as possible. Or is it asocial? Perhaps a bit of both. 

And I guess you forgot about me somewhere along the way, or you're keeping yourself occupied in desperate attempts to forget me cause I'm an asshole and you finally figured it out.

I abandoned you and you should hate me, but somehow I don't think you do. You're too good at heart and I'm just a mess. I couldn't stand being social with anyone online and I won't come with stupid excuses, not this time. I was overwhelmed and felt like I had to be social not to hurt you, but in reality I just wanted to stop. Stop talking to you cause every time you opened up a new chat window I just sighed and wanted to escape. I don't know what's wrong with me, but there was something, or everything, that I just couldn't handle. Too much responsibilities: I couldn't come and go as I pleased, so I just went and disappeared instead.

I prefer being alone now, I feel no loneliness. It's like freedom but in the saddest kind of way, cause I don't want this kind of freedom. Perhaps that is not the best word to explain it. My words keep on failing me especially when I the most need them. I just wish you were able to move on with your life and that your life is livable at least. Cause I still care, just not enough to interact with you anymore. Yes, I abandoned you forever and I know the timing wasn't the best and that it was awful of me to just leave without a word, but there it is. Y, if you read this, please forget about me, if you can.

Everything seems so far away, like I'm dulled but not by chemistry. Maybe I'm falling again, but too tired to care. I'm tired of being tired all the time but it's just the way my life is and has been for at least 10 years now. I consider the last 10 years more my life than the previous 16 years. Cause I was alive back then and I'm not anymore. I have no goals in my life except from to die and that's hardly even related to life itself. I'm just trying to kill myself slowly as I'm too weak to do it fast and it's not time for it yet.

Still waiting for my prophecy to come true and I think maybe that's the only real thing I can be waiting for. If it is true it should be real in less than a year. I have less than one year left to live and at this point, I'm just staring blankly at the life ahead of me waiting for my time to come. Maybe I'm frozen with fear, maybe I've finally come to the realisation that there's nothing I can do about it.

If this prophecy doesn't come true... I don't know what I'll do. It would upset me more than if it does come true. But it's all so inconclusive at the same time, cause I've been trying to understand it, as most of it is up to my own interpretation. I believe too much in fate when I don't even want to believe in fate. Perhaps it's fate that believes in me. At this point I just want to return to Dala and I know that's been coming and going like the flew but I don't know. I just don't have anything to live for anymore. I'm just living while waiting to die.

My family can't know, my shrink can't know, they'd just send me back to that place again for the 8th time and I'm sick and tired of their god damned rules, the cold corridors, the disgusting food and all those people I'm expected to talk to. Normal, boring people that I wish could just disappear off the face of earth. If they ever force me in there I'll break all the rules, smoke in bed with a stolen lighter and throw away the disgusting food. I'd refuse to talk to anyone and just stay to myself in my own room. Especially if it rains. Because no one can ever force me to do anything against my will. I'm not human, and I'll show them how if it ever has to come to that.

No, I'll just stay away from that place, stay away from everything as long as I can. Today is not a good day, I can't seem to escape my true feelings. They invade and block my mind, I can't think clearly. Everything I can think of makes me dizzy, angry and feeling sick. If I could just detach my head for a little while that would be neat.

I let it consume me, sometimes I have to. While I still never have any good days, I think I stopped having them long ago, some days can still be bad in comparison to others. I'm chronically low, but still have ups and downs. Just not as far up as other people and much further down than them. Or at least, that's how I see it. That some days my world falls apart, but it's never quite rebuilt again, it just keeps falling apart. Cause what's broken can always break more. That's like the one thing I've really learned.

So, I finally ordered that foundation yesterday and hoping it's gonna be what I except it to be like. I've watched a lot of reviews of it on youtube, and most of them have been good. So there's that. Not gonna bore you with too much make-up obsession which is still on-going although I'm running out of things about it to obsess about. Cause there's only so much you can do with your face and still keep it looking natural.

I'm listening to some of the saddest songs that I know of and I can barely feel anything at all, only how good they are. Mad world, Pick up the bones, Pictures of you... I'm blinded by my own darkness. Today I just feel so damn off, and I don't know exactly what's wrong. Just... everything.

Before I break apart

"My futile tries to change the world
are far between and never heard
I relentlessly build a wall
so that I can't hear their call

Far away and far between
are the things I've kept unseen
nothing gives and nothing takes
away the wounds that living makes

Be still until my heart stops beating
I'll ally with the monsters I've been defeating
and set me free before I break apart
cause I've been dying with my broken heart

Come find me as I try to leave
from all that matters I can't conceive
what darkness awaits beyond
I've been trying to break that bond

Now hush the ghosts that haunt me
I'll join them when I can see
that nothing was ever here to stay
and that my soul is already slipping away"

Damage control

I wake up on my couch half delirious, missing my family's cats and feeling lost, thinking if only Tidde was here and wondering if he even is there, I grab my plushie tiger and hug him tightly. Close enough. I usually only rely on him at night or whenever I sleep in my bed but sometimes I need him in my waking hours as well. It's a child's comfort but I got him as an adult and his now greyish yellow body that once was pure white shows that he is very loved despite being owned by an adult who should have grown out of that sort of stuff long ago.

He's been in my possession now for about 6 or so years, I think I got him the last or next last summer that I still lived in the house where I grew up, which must have been 2009 or 2008. He now probably reeks of cigarette smoke and unclean sheets as he's never been washed and I don't intend to put him through that. Not even sure if he could handle that. It is indeed a stuffed animal that I'm talking about, by why not giving it a gender and a name? I call him Whisper cause always when I talk to him I whisper, as if I'm ashamed if anyone would hear me even though we're all alone when we're together more than 99% of the time.

There's something about adulthood that I've never been able to handle. Maybe it's the mentally ill part of me, the forever damaged parts that can never heal. Maybe it's true that if a child is damaged a certain part of that person will always remains a child? I feel lost like the child I was but never wholly could ever be, if that makes any sense. Cause once I was damaged, it's like I stopped being a child, yet I will always be that child. That child that holds on to plushies all through the lonely nights, the child that masturbates in secrecy and hates himself for it, the child that is somehow lost between the childhood and the adult world.

Did I reveal too much? Who ever reads this crap anyways? I would tell people if they asked, it's not exactly a secret, it's just something that people definitely never ask about. And it's not exactly something you just go around and tell people either. Maybe I only want for them to know so that they'll never doubt how much it damaged me. It's something, some kind of proof, that I always carry with me. It's been horrible, a way to punish myself, it's been an addiction. The most pleasurable thing most idiots can think of, but we who aren't quite that simple minded know better, right? I hope you do, that it's not just something that totally makes me the asexual that I became.

And I can't help but wonder, who would I have been if none of all those awful things happened, what started during my early school years almost two decades ago? Would I have been less insecure, perhaps, or more sexual or at least just more comfortable with my sexuality and dating people? Just less fucked up in general, I mean. My blood is stained, I can't wash it out. My soul is wounded and it can't ever heal. I sometimes wander back to those darkest corners of my mind, with memories, thoughts and feelings that I can't inspect up close without getting dizzy. It's not just the dizziness that keeps me away from them, but it's the best way I can describe it.

It feels like I just skipped my teenage entirely. I acted a bit like a teen early on, before anyone else of the same age, and then it just kinda wore off when I was supposed to be like that. In one way I grew up faster, became more mature than my classmates. In another way I stayed as that child, the quiet and lonely child that hated the world he was thrown into. Who blamed everything and everyone on ever being here although he still somehow knew that there was no one to blame. The child who held on to fairy tales, worlds of magic and who longed for death as the only release from it all.

Well, maybe I never really was a child because I never once allowed myself to be one. Not after nor before what happened. I only wanted to escape and I only saw that there were two ways: 1) die and be reborn where I was supposed to be, back in Dala, or 2) grow up fast so that I could get on my own two feet and live a decent life here on my own terms. The second option was not really going to take me back home, but I knew it was still a release of some sort.

So, what I mean by skipping my teenage is that it feels like I was a child that grew out of my skin by age 9 and then turned into a broken adult. Inside, I've never been independent like real adults supposedly are, but I was grown up in a way that my classmates weren't. I didn't want to be a child, and from about age 12-13 I had already grown up. I dreamed of moving out from my parents' place, I dreamed of getting a partner and moving in with them, anything to get out and finally be able to start my life. My teenage years was just waiting for something better than the house I could never leave and the school that was my prison. The person who had outgrown their child body had no place to go.

So inevitably I stayed where I was until the time was right. I've always been impatiently patient, one of my neat paradoxes that can't really be explained. But life as an actual adult has never been like the dream I had as a child. I know that many children today and before sometimes wish they were older, but most of them seem to actually like being children, as I never did. I hated it. I didn't hate every second of it, but close to. I fantasised about having my own house, my own family that would be me and a partner and cats, my dream job which was either artist or writer, but most of all I just wanted to be free of all the rules that I as a child had to follow while I was a property of my parents.

I just feel so weird today as I clutch to Whisper and try to find the reason behind my sudden insecurity. It's an insecurity of the soul, something that always lingers within me and sometimes consumes me. Lost, lost, lost in a strange world far from home. I can sense it calling for me from so very far away. When I go to bed almost every night now I pray that I'll dream about flying, thinking that if I focus on it enough the thought will get stuck and it might actually happen, but it never works.

It's the most amazing thing I can do, like the only real comfort I can find these days. The only activity that isn't empty or meaningless. Flying, just floating through the air as if it was water but without the breathing difficulties. If only it was real, if only I could do it for real and really control it. I wouldn't tell anyone, I'd keep it a secret if I had to. Anything to feel that release. I feel so stuck and so lost all the other times, it's only when I'm flying that I feel free, emotionally released and... completely carefree.

Random stuff

I eventually managed to get some sleep, but not much as I kept waking up and it was just harder and harder to fall back to sleep again. So I eventually gave up and crawled out from my cosy bed at 6:20, an hour before I had to get up. It feels like Monday but somehow it's Thursday. Probably that's because I've been at home for two consecutive days in the middle of the week.

I'm gonna just sit on my ass by my computer for a while now before I get started with my face wash routine and make-up. I have some really nasty, deep set acne that really needs some covering today and hopefully I can make my skin look fairly nice. I dyed most of my hair black again yesterday and put in medium long black dreads as well, so now I'm thinking of dyeing my eyebrows and facial hair black too, but I want to wait with the latter until it's grown out more. I'll just stick to mascara until then, haha.

Now I'm trying to prepare for my classmates' and teachers' reactions to my dreads and the fact that I dyed my hair again even though I said that I wouldn't. They're interfering and think they can decide what I should do with my hair. I really don't like that and I'll make sure that they know where that line is drawn. On what is okay or not regarding my hair and my appearance in general. I might hate their stupid opinions (I mean what do they know about goth culture anyways? Yeah, that's right, nada) but I know they have the right to express them. What they don't have the right to, is interfering with what I do with my looks. They should know that, they really should.

If it's about that the teachers want me to look more presentable then they can go and shove something up their arses, cause that is not of my concern at all. I might soon be 27 years old and going to a public school, but I compared to them know my rights. And those are that as long as I'm not hurting someone else or breaking any laws I'm allowed to look however I want at school and in my own free time. This is not a conservative boarding school, far from it.

Ugh, all that stuff just gives me a sodding headache. I dreamed about three of my classmates up until the moment I woke up this morning and it was really weird and a tad embarrassing. One of them had a very accurate likeness to the real life version, another was excellent in climbing trees and the third one was not at all like the original. The first and the third I've had as classmates since January and the second only for the last few weeks. Some make impressions very quickly while others take their time.

That doesn't mean that they're less interesting or anything, just that they take longer to set a deeper impression in me, they still matter just as much or differently depending on very different aspects. Some, usually those with interesting personalities but boring looks, take more time to give that deeper impression, like with those two in my dream.

Others, like the third one in my dream, have both interesting personalities and looks which not so surprisingly sparks my interest sooner. I can't tell you much about who is who even if I cared too because of the rules at school. I can say stuff like so far, one person is a bit like that and another like this, but I don't think I can say names and more detailed information. I don't know, it's not like I actually read the contract or anything.

My mother noticed that I used up more money this month. Oops. I'm still gonna buy that foundation and possibly a brush as well if I can find a cheap enough one. Just a simple kaboku brush, or however they're spelled. They're usually big, fluffy and flat and great for buffing in foundation, or blending in cream contouring stuff, concealer and such. I might go for that cream contouring stuff next month or so, so that my mother doesn't complain too much about how I'm spending the money.

On Friday, which is tomorrow, I'm finally gonna buy that foundation that I've been aching for so long now. It feels like forever. I'll still go for MAC studio sculpt and hoping the shade NC15 is gonna be right for me. I think so but how can I know for sure? It's not like the tiny beauty shop here in Hemse sells MAC products. There it's just L'oreal and Isadora and their foundations are cheap crap with way too dark shades for me. Like seriously, such foundations are usually 3 or up to 4 shades too dark at lightest. It's insane how pale I am sometimes.

Finding a foundation for my fair skin tone that suits my skin type is just hell. I need something medium to full coverage (buildable is a plus) that works good on normal skin that leans towards being dry. Well, the foundation that I'm going after seems like a perfect match for me, if only the shade is right, that is. Right, this will have to do for now.

Certain uncertainty

I still remember how I wanted to hold on to that cat in that dream, as if I was afraid to let go like I just knew it wouldn't last. Even in my dreams I'm a fool who knows I'm about to wake up. My past haunts me, the very good and the very bad. I seldom re-view what was half good-half bad. Maybe no one does. But my life has been so full of extremes, severe high and lows and it's shaken me up pretty badly. Everything was always either amazing or horrible or a weird mix of both at the same time.

And I remember it all with the same bitter sweet feeling, a tearing in my gut, half disbelief yet knowing it's the only thing I've ever believed in. But not even my belief is set in stone. I still question everything, even myself and everything I stand for, which makes me wonder if I stand for anything at all. I don't. Not truly or deeply, at least. Cause if you dig deep enough there is always some grain of doubt. I doubt my religion, I doubt my dreams and goals, I doubt my memories and I even doubt Dala.

Uncertainty, is the only thing that is certain. Cause everything that I am cracks and peels, splits at the seams if you look close enough. Maybe that's why I change my mind so often, as I try to find the real truth, the only truth, but it's been wrong every single time. Or not wrong, just never right enough. Never 100%. And I do believe that is one of the reasons I feel so lost within myself and in this world. Why I can't get the feeling of belonging anywhere at all.

There's always something chafing uncomfortably, against my mind, soul or body. Something is always nagging at me with the feeling that "this is wrong and I need to stop". And all that I perceive as my mistakes keep following me and I wonder where has my head been at all this time? But I never come to my senses, cause I've never had my senses to begin with. I just don't know what it's even like to be at one's senses. And that also kinda explains why or how I find that I'm in a way mentally ill. An illness, or oddity, an adversity that never ever goes away.

Is it a wasted life? Or just a life that is harder to live? How should I know, I have nothing to compare it to. Sometimes I wish that I could, I think it would be easier to understand it then. Not that I care much if others understand me or not, but I want to understand. God, there's so much I still do want to understand, but my energy is running on minus again and I just don't care anymore.

It's easier to not care, and I know I wouldn't believe that before I felt it myself. I put the little energy I have on the simplest of things. School, make-up, passing, my hair, world of warcraft, drawing and similar rather shallow things. I still hope for the end of the world, but don't put much thought process into that. My life doesn't much resemble a nightmare at the moment, it's merely grey and dull, boring and simple. I still keep my social connections at a minimum and keep up a wall between myself and everyone I meet. I shut myself out, no longer interested in human life. Or the lives of other animals or plants for that matter. Life itself doesn't interest me.

I'm just trying to get by, the only way I know. I don't care about getting better as I have absolutely nothing to look forward to. What other people desire from their lives is nothing that I want. Or rather, I may want it on some level, but it's hardly enough of a reason to live. Not even close. Not even remotely. Maybe I'm just living cause I'm scared of dying? The thought has crossed my mind. Or I'm just too shut off to take that step.

What I believe is that this is something more complicated than depression, or perhaps something much simpler. I've given up, but I still participate in life. Somewhat. Nothing drives me to it, but nothing drives me from it. It's like you just continue walking even when you have no sense of direction or goal as to where you're walking to. You can't go back and you don't know how to stop walking. So you just walk and walk and walk... that's how I would describe my life right now. It's an endless, pointless walk that holds no meaning anymore. Yet I continue.

Complete lock-down

I'm not writing much lately, just playing WoW and watching youtube videos, almost simultaneously, but not really. I realised I hadn't done laundry for a month before today and my kitchen is growing into a jungle. I lose my will to keep it nice in my home, cause why even bother when it's all getting dirty soon again? The crew is on me, the leader of the crew is on me about it. I just don't care. Don't want to talk about school but it's started again as of Monday this week.

I'm still upset, you know. Still not moving on cause I refuse to. Still don't know how to cope. It's not the loneliness, I find peace when I'm alone, but it's what's tearing inside me at all times no matter what I do. I fill the emptiness with WoW, cigarette smoke, the same kind of food every single day as some kind of simple comfort, but I'm tired. I'm tired in my soul. A kind of tiredness that caffeine apparently cannot cure or even mask.

I dream of the weirdest things. Just fantasising about atom bombs, the whole world blowing into pieces and what a relief that would be. Or for someone to kill me in as many different creative ways as I can think of. Some of them even involves torture. Cause I just can't see how it would even be remotely effective on me. Wounds heal and those that don't, don't matter in the long run. Death would be a sweet relief and I just can't let that thought go.

I believe, in a way, that I'm too broken to do anything about my death wishes. I just dream and hope that my life here won't be that much longer. Cause there's nothing in life that I want except from that the rest of it will be as bearable as possible. I'm trying my best to avoid more tragedy. Stay to myself, avoid getting too close to anyone. Just stay lonely and miserable cause it really is easier that way. No responsibilities, no expectations, no hurt.

It comes a lot more than it goes again, although not as intensively as before. I don't cry, I don't scream. In fact, I don't react much at all to anything these days. Just stone cold. I might smile or laugh, but it feels false and it cracks and peels. I scream when I get angry, but it only lasts a few minutes and it's always only regarding my computer. Nothing to do with my heart. I don't think it's healing, it's just locked. Complete lock-down and the walls are protecting it.

I'm not living my life, I'm just barely enduring it until I will no longer have to. Just going through my endless obsessions that lead to absolutely nothing and there's that. I live a half miserable life constantly trying to decide between if I should go to bed and just fuck it all or just have another cup of coffee. There's no in between.