Someone once said, that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. And that is literally my whole damn life. Most literally, I can assure you and my mother could definitely too. That's what I've been doing over and over ever since I was a toddler. Does that make me insane, or is it just an expression that I'm supposed to take with a huge grain of salt? It does give me a reassuring smirk on my lips though.
And that smirk I can't quite explain, why it's even there. Like maybe I just knew that there's more insanity in my veins than there is blood and that's what I've been running on instead of common sense? I do take pride in not being quite right in my head, and yes, it does offend me whenever someone says I'm not crazy. It's not that I want to be crazy, it's more like... how do I even phrase this... like they whoever calls me perfectly sane obviously didn't get a single word I just said.
And it feels like they're stomping on a crucial part of me somehow. A part of my identity, or something, I don't even know. It's not like I identify with my psychiatric diagnoses, it's more like they're just describing an important part of who I am. Like I wouldn't be me without them. And I do have a very strong love/hate relationship to my own brain. Half the time I would never want to exchange it if I could, the other half I don't even care about exchanging, I just want it gone. It's not like with the rest of the world, the "real" world, which I just constantly hate no matter what.
Yeah I really do, and it saddens me sometimes, that I'm just fully incapable of appreciating it, even on good days. And I know it's the veil that blackens it, it's not actually all that dark. Or, at least so I've been told. That's it's what you make of it, in a way. Or something, I can't possibly know anything about something I've never experienced differently. I've always hated the world. I don't know how to not hate it. I can't see beyond that veil, I never even once could.
So in that sense, I don't think I have that much to look forward to in life here. Didn't say I have nothing though, but still not much. I don't think I could ever like Earth, or living on it. But I think... it's a very vague possibility, that it could, just could be possible that I could like my own life. I've been managing to live on the edge of society for years now, if not all my life. With just one foot inside of it and the other somewhere deep inside my own head. I do see it as that I sort of live in two worlds, more so than most people seem to.
That the world outside of my head is for the main part just a necessary evil, I need it to simply stay alive. I need its resources, mainly. I need diagnoses for my difficulties and special service apartment, allowance money, doctors, medication, and to some degree also education. The rest though, I just stay as far away from as I possibly can. I mean, it might sound silly, but I can't even read a newspaper. Cause then I get thrown into the reality I'm trying so hard to avoid and it's just too much. I have enough trouble in my own head, alright? Don't need any more misery to worry about.
My mother helps me with most, almost all, of the practical. I literally can't even pick up a phone and call people. I definitely can't talk to authority people who's hands my life is in. I'd most likely fuck it up completely and cause myself a three days long panic attack. Then my mother would have to take care of that mess. Like, the only things I actually am capable of in that sense is going to certain meetings alone/without my mother's support. Like I see my shrink by myself, and people at school, and the crew. But even then I can't handle it all the way completely by myself. I sometimes still need my mother to be with me.
I really don't feel like I'm not an adult though, I just feel broken. Handicapped, disabled, useless. My brain feels like an overwhelming, useless, grey mass that I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with. I know it probably isn't in fact completely useless, but if this is as far as it could get me...? I can't even take care of myself, cause I'm thinking myself to pieces 24/7 and I can't shut it off even for 5 minutes. Well, that's just one of all my million problems though.
I don't even know for sure what isn't working as it should, as I've never been in any other way. People knew I had asperger from age 6, and my parents knew I wasn't like ordinary kids from about age 1-2. Just the fact that I was so scared of letting go of them when learning to walk, that I couldn't walk on my own before I was 3 years old. I guess my own body and my clumsiness scared me already then. And then I refused to eat solid food until I don't even know what age but could have been around 3 that too. I still keep the special spoon that my parents used to feed me with, during that period between breast milk and solid food.
What I'm trying to say is that I've literally never known how to just simply function. I've always been helped, guided, carried through life and now I'm here. Possibly too sick for a special service apartment, living on allowance since 7 or 8 years ago, never had a job in my entire life, with an incomplete education, living far from my friends, almost completely dependent on other people. Did I miss something? And how can anyone honestly believe it's gonna get better?
Okay I'm just pissed at what life threw at me. Shit, shit and more shit. I'm just so damn tired of it, of living this way. Would I ever give life another chance? I don't know. I don't think it's worth more chances, honestly. Haven't I tried enough? Will anything ever be enough? Or am I just supposed to keep on and on because no one wants me to die? What about what I want? I'm the one trying to stand this crappy life that I just can't live.
And I can't stand it either. I'm just suffering through it, that's the best way I think I can describe it. Just suffering through it. No, today isn't even a bad day or anything. It's more of a reflective kind of day. It's neither good nor bad, something in between. Cause if you think this is bad, then you should see what I really define as a bad day... but then, if you're reading this I'm pretty sure you've already seen a lot of my bad days.
Last gasps now before bed. And I'm too tired to think anymore. I'm getting bored again, but that's mainly cause I'm avoiding most of my thoughts. Not really escaping them, just not looking in their direction for now. There will come a better time for their existence and I know they won't go away. Not that kind of thoughts. They don't go away until you deal with them. And that I will, eventually. Maybe already tomorrow, but preferably not tonight. Tonight I want to sleep cause I most likely have school tomorrow unless it's something special that I've missed. And also depends on how I'm feeling and all that.
I still can't stop thinking about food. The thought is like a disease in my head, spoiling everything else. I just want to cook some pasta, chicken and sauce and stuff my damn face with it like there's no tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow, most likely at least, and I need to wake up a bit thinner/lighter than I did this morning. Sometimes I wonder how I can care so much about losing weight when I don't even care about living. Like, where's the sense in that?
Maybe I just need a distraction, and also my eating disorder is a slow suicide attempt, but there's two sides to it, isn't it? I can't quite wrap my head around it. But I guess there's a deeper meaning to everything, or almost everything, even that. Oh damn, I'm so cold... can't wait to crawl into my bed and heat it up. Only two places where I'm ever warm: in bed and in the shower. Everywhere else I'm everything between slightly too cold and absolutely freezing.
And it's so exhausting being constantly cold, but I just don't have any choice when it comes to that. It's winter, I'm a cold sort of person and my starvation isn't exactly helping either. Though I think, with all the soda I've been drinking lately, my dehydration isn't as critical anymore, if it ever was I don't know. And after about a month of almost eating normal amounts of food, it feels like my body can cope with more of my shit again. Meaning fasting, drinking and what not. All that fun stuff.
I can't really cope with myself. These days, these last few months, everything has just been a mess. It feels like I'm standing on unstable ground that's threatening to crumble constantly but it never does, and yeah, it does make me wonder if it ever will. It makes me feel as though I can continue like this forever and as long as I want death, I won't get it. So I almost kinda lightly continue destroying myself, just knowing it won't work in the end anyway. It gives me a certain kind of freedom that I never once asked for. Never once wanted.
Yet, here it is and I do feel free to ruin my life and my body without much restrictions at all. Just try to be at least somewhat functional at school. Don't care about being functional at home alone, where no one can see me collapse. My only real fear-ish? is that if it gets bad, like worse than it already is, is that people would force me to seek help. I'd reject that help of course, but I don't know if they could still force me? It's more of something just gnawing at my conscience than an actual fear, mostly cause I feel I would hurt my loved ones by refusing their help.
Cause yeah, I can preach, about how it's my own god damned life that I'm ruining and it's literally no one's business, but if shit goes from bad to worse, I know a lot of people who would not be entirely okay with seeing me get even worse. And I'd have to just let them watch, you know. That's the hardest part of it all. Knowing that I'd somehow indirectly hurt them.
Somehow my breathing feels shallow, or kind of hollow. I don't even care why. It sometimes makes it easier to sleep though, it doesn't feel so forceful then. And I do hope that it's actual shallow breathing and it could kill me in my sleep. But I know that's not very likely at all. It's probably just all in my head. As with much else.
Switching music to Enya, maybe that can help me get some slight illusion of peace of mind. I don't damn illusions just because they are not real. A lot of things in my world aren't, they can still be useful in some way or another. It just depends on how you look at them, and if you accept them or not. And in my world, illusion can be almost as much of a comfort as the real deal. It really depends on what it is, and my state of mind at the moment.
I guess it depends on more than that, but I'm tired and just want to finish writing sometime before my meds kick in. Always gotta add some more. And I've been writing a lot today, almost non-stop but somehow it doesn't feel like it's been overwhelming. Maybe cause I actually managed to avoid most of the mess. Told those thoughts that later, I'll deal with you later. Just needed to really rest for today, and getting through my fast.
It's been around 26 hours since I last ate something now but I won't allow myself food again before tomorrow morning at earliest. My "one day" -fasts usually add up to around 36 hours, more often than just 24, for that reason. One day surrounded by two nights. It kinda hurts everywhere right now and I don't think I like fasting that much anymore, but it gets the job done. It's become another one of those necessary evils. I have so many of those now, no wonder I can't cope.
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