Unwired (poem)

I sought my carelessness like a faulty machine
seeking its master while tumbling down a ravine
and all the connections I tried to build
fell apart by the joints, unfulfilled

I wired my subconscious mind around my ankles and wrists
pulled tighter, held closer to the presense of their twists
for a night time in my reluctance to guard my heart
I sought to find release from the wires holding my every part

Blood seeping through as I try to hold my mind in pieces
scattered across the sheets until the thought ceases
to ramp up in counsciousness, oh wire me tighter
before you cut me free and pull me an all-nighter

As far from love as affection goes
and as far from sanity as freedom grows
who knows
a drive that never slows

Wider and wilder, open me up
I don't know how to stop
yearning for your pleasure to be embraced by mine
and for our breaking bodies to intertwine

My sirens echoing as I straddle on closer to push you in deeper
now my own lust will become my reaper
for all my reasons will vanish into your skin
and I breathe deeply as I become what can't begin

But who defends
a drive that never ends
when all the connections I tried to build
fell apart by the joints, unfulfilled

Never give up

I felt happy for two months before I started falling apart again. Somehow I wish I had done more to prolong that happiness, but instead I kept isolating myself, starved and disappeared into my computer. But I respect that, I respect that I was afraid to go all out at the risk of losing the little happiness I had instead of gaining more. Because stress is never a good thing when it comes to my mood.

But I haven't lost all hope, I guarantee you. I still hope and dream and almost kinda expect a better future now. Just almost on that last part, but it's better than it used to be before in my life. But I'm falling again, into the old and new dark places. I know I'm not meant to be happy, but I'm trying to beat the odds. I'd rather die trying than give up, you know. But I don't know how or what to do. I need to ask my shrink that, maybe she's got some advice.

Cause just trying not to do things isn't quite working anymore. I don't know why, but I fall into temptation and it's hard when I lose control. So many things upset me, everything from my acne to my inability to be a part of the society and all else in between. And being so easily upset upsets me even more.

It's like maybe my lack of eating habits is finally taking control over me. Being constantly hungry can make anyone upset. It's not the best thing trying to lose weight when you're feeling like shit, but when else am I gonna do it? It's in my state of mind, it is my mind to feel like shit. Whenever, wherever, all the time. I know I take risks by doing so, and I also know it's not recommended to starve at all.

I'm slowly developing an eating disorder and I just sit here and do nothing about it. Cause if I get an eating disorder I will definitely lose weight. And yes, I realise just how wrong that sounds. I'm not stupid, I know I'm taking huge risks by keeping this from my doctors. I keep fooling them, telling them I eat very little and try to lose weight but I don't tell them that I'm desperate to lose weight, obsessed by it, willing to do anything for it. About my very poor body image or that I'm pro-ana.

I play a twisted game with doctors, manipulating and fooling them to believe what I want them to believe. I'm not quite in my right mind. Cause I seek doctors to help me but then I don't let them help me. I've been in this carousel for too long, too long to know how to fool them. That I know they make the priorities about what I should get help for first and I don't like that. So I only tell them about what I want to get help for and keep the rest from them. If I wanted help for my eating problems I would gladly discuss that. If I didn't have to worry about telling them about my psychotic tendencies, I would gladly tell them about that too.

But they are just as much stuck in a rut as I am. They have their guidelines and rules to follow. To them, my self harm and suicidal tendencies come first, and my basic needs like food and sleep come second. Then the psychotic stuff seemed to have come third when I was open about that several years ago. My priorities is everything else. At every damn meeting there is truth I have to withhold, and it completely drains me, trying to figure out what to say in denial. I've had some practise, but I have no idea if I'm a good liar or not. Maybe it depends on who I'm lying to.

Split in black and white

My mind is never at peace. Am I a humanised demon, or a demonised human? Does it matter? I've always felt a bit like the super heroes who have a darker identity that they sort of switch to at certain points, when something triggers them. I'm not saying I feel like a super hero, rather quite far from it. But it's like I'm two people sometimes, and even though pain and madness drives me to the darker me I like him better.

Hard to say why, cause that me isn't much stronger or wiser or anything really. Just different. Braver, perhaps. More confident, selfish and solitary. The other me is bright, more fun and easy going. Insecure, kinder and more social. Isn't that rather schizo though? I don't know, I haven't really come across this phenomena before. I will do some digging in that area, but I doubt I'll find anything useful though.

I've always been split between black and white, and now I see why. I am both, but not at the same time. It's not like I have alter egos, they're both me. Just that one side enhances the dark and the other enhances the light. But since the darker is only present when triggered, that could be a clue of something. That it is developed, not something I was born with. Doesn't make it any less real though, but I think I've just been through too much damn darkness, like what the fuck is happening to me?!

I'm split in so many ways it's getting hard to keep up with everything. First there's me and my body, an eternal war to be honest. Secondly there's me and Anna, which can also be a war sometimes but mostly we're like siblings. Siamese twins that never got our own separate bodies. I don't morph into her, I don't become her, we're like two different people entirely. And then there's this. Where I see myself as two sides of a coin, one dark and one light. Not as in negative and positive, think more like night and day.

I've been trying to describe this like a gazillion times before, but I think I nailed it now. I'm the dark side of me now, can you tell? Triggered by my past and my worries about K, I just sort of morphed. I don't know how that happens, suddenly I'm just there.

This isn't new, I've just not been able to describe it before. I've tried. I've tried so hard for probably about twelve years or more. How the usual me can change into something else. Most people only see that me, as to why I refer to as the "usual", and I suppose there isn't that much difference between them both.

The difference has increased though. I dress differently depending on which one I am. I wear light colours, like a white shirt and blue jeans if I'm the light me. And vice versa I wear darker colours like a blood red shirt with black pants if I'm the dark me. It affects my mood more lately. I don't think either side is more prone to psychosis, though I'm not sure yet. I'll make a thorough study on that later.

I think this is another defence mechanism. I have so many of those just to able to survive my own life. I don't think my life sucked quite that hard, I mean there are loads of people who have had a much worse life without becoming Schizophrenic or whatever the fuck I am. PTSD drew me to madness, is quite safe to say. I'm not very sane at all, though I might seem that way to other people. I can't help but thinking it's not so strange since my chaos is more or less locked inside my brain. And it just becomes worse.

Or does it? I'm seeing clearer all the time, especially since about a year ago. Damn my vision has expanded more than I could handle. Literally more than I could handle. But what does this mean? Like I suddenly understand exactly why I dyed half my hair black and bleached the other half blonde on and off for so many years before. But everyone just said that I looked like Berny Pålsson so I suppose that's why I stopped having my hair that way eventually, even though the first time I had it was before I had even heard of her. When I first saw a picture of her at 17 it was like looking into a mirror. I was both allured and creeped out.

This also explains why I want all my tattoos and piercings on one half of my body but not the other. It explains why I'm drawn to black and white patterns, why I sometimes do my make up differently on either side of my face and so on. It explains my ambivalence too. Damn, it explains a lot. I'm split in two.

The body we share

I suddenly feel a bit sorry for my body, what it has to go through. It's the price of dealing with its unkind hosts. Me and Anna, colliding and end up damaging our poor, shared body and mind.

She is a bit upset about my surgery by the way. She says I shouldn't have done it, and I know that she misses the tits. She is female after all, and through all of my transition she's become more and more detached from our shared body. It's unfamiliar to her. But my well being is more important than hers. I try to comfort her though, that she can still be a woman even though she won't look like one.

In all of our life together she's always been the cisgendered and I the transgender, but now the roles are reversed. I might be selfish, but there really is no way I could compromise with that. What I can do is to make her comfortable with the fact that I do want to and will let her express her femininity from time to time. Been thinking of buying a wig for her, something cheap, with straight, long, light/medium brown hair that I can style to fit her needs. Buy a simple brown dress for her. Maybe even a bra if I feel brave enough. It wouldn't be a problem for me, just every once in a while, to let her live a little.

But yeah, I want people to be able to get to know her, if she is in fact is the second half of me, that we two together combined would create the real me. And if that would ever happen, or if not, I still want people to meet her. Yes I'm thinking something like a body switch, and I "become" her for a little while while she's exploring the world and get to know you guys who she really is.

I can't believe I've waited so long to come to that decision! Maybe because we hadn't figured out how to "switch" until rather recently.

When she's steering the wheel, I would be the voice in her head and mostly not be able to speak up loudly, so all I can do basically, is only guiding her from inside our mind. It's kinda creepy and a bit scary to be locked inside my own mind like that. But I believe it could be worth it. After all, I am the one who's got the upper hand in our unusual situation.

Though to others I might seem just as crazy as I try to tell you that I am. (I mean I don't just throw around the word "crazy" as a fashion statement, I really am, you know). "Me" running around in a dress and a wig, constantly complaining, afraid and curious about seeing the whole world in a completely new perspective. Talking in a higher pitch that doesn't really hold, with obvious feminine manners. And then I'd change back to the real me again. I would look and seem like a total fail drag show with strong tendencies to being bat shit crazy.

Maybe I should just take her out for some shopping first. Letting her pick something she'd wanna wear. Cause I just want for people to see who's been invading my mind for the last sixteen years of my life. Wouldn't you like to meet her? I mean, like really face to face? I'm sure she'd have quite some stories to tell. What we went through through her perspective, things I might not even know about. You'd have to be careful with her though. I don't think she's ever interacted with another living person before.

Her body image is very far from my own, so the way I look now is way far from how she pictures herself looking. And well, she's not comfortable with the way I've changed with testosterone and the surgery I had done. But I'll try my best for her to look as feminine or not she wants to be.

She's my polar opposite. She hates what I love and loves what I hate. She's not very tactic, more extrovert than me, more feminine in her manners than I've ever been. She's more logical than emotional, lacks empathy and has a bit of a superior complex. She's drawn to nature and living an as healthy lifestyle she possibly can with me completely ignoring it. A little towards that new age kinda thing. She would probably be living in a forest or at a farm if we didn't share bodies. She's a bit of a hippie, vegetarian, against smoking, drinking and sex. She can be a total bitch but she's smart and curious about the world around her. I think you'd both love her and hate her.

It's hard for me sometimes when I try to understand that she is a part of me, that all of her was once just a part of my personality. She's the light, believing in being healthy and stay true to the nature, she's logical more than emotional, though a bit narcissistic and self absorbed. I one the other hand am dark, into self destruction and indulgent. I'm creative and rely more on my emotions than logical thinking. We're a bit like yin and yang.

Would you want to meet her when I come to Uppsala and Stockholm? I could totally arrange that. If I could only get her out of her shyness for a little while. No parties though, she hates that kind of stuff. Tea in a café or just talking in a park or wherever would be better. Close to nature, but it's not mandatory. I have full understanding for it if you don't want to be seen around people with the crazy person in drag with a split personality.

But yeah, I've been wanting to let her lose a bit more lately. Let her see the world too. Though it would probably feel like walking a dog the first few times. And this is what I love thinking about what shrinks would say about if they were told about this condition, this way of living.

1998

I just realised that I don't remember anything from year 1997. Maybe because everything happened during the year after. When everything changed, forever. Did you know I was raped twice? Though it's hardly a record and nor should it be. It just popped up in my head right now, as I was thinking about the number 97 which is one of my favourite numbers.

Rape, sexual assault. It changes you. And I was so young in 1998. Just nine years old. Did I ever have a childhood? I ask myself. I's almost like I was born unhappy and then people went and made my life even crappier. It's not so strange I hated elementary school. But my hatred towards it wasn't actually directed to schools as such, cause I really liked going to other schools later on. I guess I just hated my class and school mates back then. They weren't so friendly.

They did that to me. Children, younger than I was. Though I can't even remember all of it. Don't remember how the rest of that day went by, how I felt directly after. I don't remember the rest of the day my second rape happened either. I wonder why. My mother remembered it though. Apparently I was kinda upset.

I guess I just like ranting about the horrible things I went through. Maybe it's a way of facing it, of dealing with it. Maybe I am just crazy and find pleasure in reliving the truly unpleasant. I fantasise about it, how it could have gone differently. For the worse and for the better. Trying to get some perspective. Trying to understand what actually happened, why it happened. How they must have thought and felt. What went through my rapists' minds when the did what they did? Did they think they didn't harm me, or were they cruelly aware of it?

Wonder why I didn't defend myself the second time, in 2007. I knew karate for fucks sake. And I just lied there and took it. I don't understand why. Maybe my fear just paralysed me. So much for learning self defence.

And it just brings me down. How fragile I am, so easily broken. And I wonder if it could happen again, cause I have a feeling that it will happen again someday. I don't know why, but it's like I think the world isn't done fucking me around. At least it gave me Anna as a sad act of forgiveness or something. Cause I still think this is why she came to me. PTSD with dissociation, or DID. My best bet so far as to why I have a split personality. The whole of me split into two people. And most of you only know half of me.

Don't be your own therapist, you just end up getting more entangled in the memories of your traumas. But they're just memories now and they can't hurt me. My scars that will never fully heal. I don't think I've ever heard of another rape victim who's moved on completely from their experience/-s. Cause maybe it just isn't possible.

Just a name

I still can't say my old name (the one I was given at birth) in my head. Can't even think of it. And still, if I meet someone with that name I react to it. Like ice through my back. I'm not comfortable telling it to anyone who didn't know me already from before I picked the name I have now. I did once and I regret it, but it just slipped out cause I was pushed to tell.

Friendly, jokingly, but still pushed. If any of you think that it's okay to do that, it's not. It's not okay to force a transperson to tell the name they were given at birth if they're not comfortable with that. No matter how damn curious you are. It can cause tremendous anxiety and it can be very triggering. I don't want to be associated with that name. It's like a curse or something.

Like what's the big deal, it's just a name, right? I honestly don't know, to tell you the truth. It is just a name, but there's something more to it, something I can't really put my finger on. To me, it's a bit like I think if someone knows that name they would think of me as a girl. That they would think that's who I really am. But I'm not that person.

I hated that name always. I hated my parents for giving me it. I was uncomfortable with it throughout my childhood and teens. Wanted to change it, so eventually I came up with another female name: Kazanndra. That was the girl I tried to be. The girl in drag that was supposed to be me. I could be Kazanndra for a while, but the name I was given at birth, I never was that person. Ever.

So maybe it sits a bit deeper for me, that I can't even breathe my old name in syllables on a piece of glass without getting anxiety. Cause I hated it all along and it wasn't just because I'm trans. My parents told me that I was that name, no they implied it, but also literally.

It was a bland and boring name without any sort of feeling to it. It was like air, any girl or woman in the entire world could have it. Everyone but me and I was the one who was it. I did not want to be my name, so one of the reasons why I picked my name was that it was an act of rebellion that I took a name that is also a bland name that any guy could have - because it is just a name.

Open

I'm bored and can't think of anything to do or write about. Should look into my autobiography again. Been starting to write about last year. Since a lot of shit happened then I put it in a chapter for it alone. Dreading when I'll have to read it all (all of it) through and edit things, put the chapters in a decent order and see if I've missed something important or of there's something I want to delete. Probably gonna take me days. But I will finish it someday, I promise!

I don't intend to shock people with my story, but it might appear that way cause it's gonna be pretty graphic. I just want to get my story out. Though I'm not including absolutely everything, just as much as I'm comfortable with, and that is a lot.

Some people might not realise that, that I'm comfortable with sharing even my darker thoughts and things that I'm apparently supposed to be embarrassed over. I've always been like that, even when I was bullied I wasn't afraid of making a fool of myself. There are very few things that are too personal for me to discuss openly, or at all, and I can easily count them on one hand.

Some things that I've done, thought or felt. Things no one would even want to know about, or even if they would want to know they would most definitely not like it. Most of what I carry around is darkness with a few exceptions, but those things that I hide... they're pitch black.

Maybe that's just the way it is. That if I was more inhibited or cautious about how open I am, I would have less to hide, and the other way around. That maybe because I'm so comfortable being open about my trans identity, the rape I went through, self harm, mental illness, the bullying, suicide attempts and so on; I have to hide even darker things. Like no matter how open you are about your bad sides, you still have something that is even worse inside you that you don't want anyone else to know about.

No one is completely open because of this. We all have our levels of tolerance, like how much of our insides we can tolerate for the world to see. I happen to have very high tolerance, but I think that is only because I know I can draw the line further to easier hide what is really worth hiding. I'm not just talking law breaking, I'm talking really awful things.

Yeah, there is something that is nagging at me there, wanting to tell but it's like I just can't. Want to push that tolerance even further, be open about exactly everything. And then that crap just showed up from deep in my memories last summer, and I suddenly understood why I've always been a bit uncomfortable around cops. I've been good these last few years at least, so I don't have anything to hide from then on... So yeah, that recent. 2011 I think. My god, what the fuck was up with that year!?

Some years of my life, just saying. Those are: 1998, 2002, 2005, 2007, 2009, 2011 and 2013. I'm starting to see a pattern... so what atrocities are gonna happen to me next year then? There's always something new that sort of strikes me like a lighting from a clear sky, so with a little anticipation I'll look forward to 2015 to see what more crap I'll be getting. Yes, I said anticipation. I'm ambivalent about my future.

But as I said, I'm open about almost everything. I'm comfortable talking about things people don't want to hear. I discuss deeply personal stuff at the dinner table. I'm the one who opens up at a party even before I get my first drink. The only reason I've been holding back IRL lately is because I know people become uncomfortable with me sharing absolutely everything like it's perfectly normal. I'm trying to add in some decency in my life, though I'm not a very decent person and I don't live a very decent life.

Wow, this became a very long entry about openness. The bottom line is that I don't know where to draw the line. Of what is okay or not okay to share about my life. I never tell other people's secrets or even things that I don't know if they are secret or not. You just have my trust completely even if we're just acquaintances. I will take your secrets with me to the grave.

It's when it comes to myself that I just can't keep my mouth shut. It shouldn't be a problem - cause how the hell can being so very open about oneself be a problem? - but it is. Not necessarily a problem I'll take into consideration, but still. People can be embarrassed because of me or even ask me to shut up. Sorry guys, but it's my fucking life and if you don't want to hear it, just shut your fucking ears.

Bargain

A part of me now believes that I sold my soul to the devil for a nice body and luck in love. The down side would be that I will only live for a few more years, and then I will inevitably kill myself. I accepted that (though it took some time), but it wasn't until recently that I added one plus one, so to say.

Things have gone remarkably well lately, and always when I pray to Satan he fulfils my wishes. But to what price? That's why I didn't understand it before. When I signed that contract in my own blood, things started to change.

Have I not watched Ghost Rider?! Yes, I have and a gazillion other movies that depicts just how much of a bad idea it is to sign contracts with your own blood. Stupid fuck!

I don't know what will happen after I die because of this, but I think I only sold a part of my soul, not the entire kit. I don't even carry around all of my soul. Some of it is somewhere else, and incommunicado, you know.

I couldn't just let myself get ravaged by misery until I break and kill myself because my whole life just became a horrible mistake. I'd rather be satisfied for just two years and then kill myself because I know that my time is up. Leave this world feeling that at least I had something in the end. It's worth it, damn it's worth it.

I realise that for the bargain to work I still have to pray and work my ass off to achieve what I want for the rest of my life. Then what's the point? You might ask. The point is that I will be able to reach my goals without failing. It won't be and it isn't a fairytale magic thing. Satan can't make my scars after the surgery to heal miraculously over night, for example, but what he can do is to make sure that it heals well and without complications. (If that doesn't happen we're gonna have a little chat)

The bargain is about changing two major parts of my life for the better. The trans related stuff, and mostly my dysphoria. My body, in simplicity. Then it's also about my love, K, and my feelings for him. And that's why I still get depressions, nightmares, phobias, sleep- and eating problems and such. Cause that isn't a part of the bargain.

It is much, since my life literally depends on those two things. I can get by with bad habits (especially since I'm not gonna live so much longer) and most of my problems can be helped or fixed with medication and psychotherapy. But my dysphoria, and my fucked up heart... that I really needed some help with.

But of course this could all also be a delusion. It's not normal to believe that you sold your soul to the devil...

Just venting

I've been repeating the phrase "oh my god" in my head for almost three hours now. I'm trying to decide if I should take up on that offer about surgery the 4th of February. It's merely a week. It's a surgeon who's name I didn't recognise and I can't remember it so I can't look it up. Do I want it? Hell yeah! But isn't a bit too soon? I mean, they could have told me a bit earlier.

Is there a chance I could talk to that surgeon before? I don't just wanna jump into it, cause what if something went wrong, what if he's not good at that sort of surgery? I don't just wanna "get rid of" my parts, I wanna look good as well.

I think my head is gonna explode. The woman who called me said she wanted me to call back already today, but come on, shouldn't I at least get one day to think about it? It's a huge thing, for god's sake! Of course I wanna have that surgery, of course I wanna have the result, but there are other things to take into consideration here.

It's not like I'm gonna have my tonsils removed, this is plastic surgery. Why do they call it that, by the way? I'm not gonna have any plastic put inside me. Anyway, this is very important to me, I mean very important. And it's just as important that it comes out with a good result. I'm not expecting miracles, but I don't wanna look like shit either. I don't want that surgeon to fuck it up.

That's the only reason why I hesitate, don't get me wrong. I also haven't stopped smoking like a chimney, which could be a small problem, but hardly that important. I really didn't count on it coming up in such short notice. Though they are very busy over there in that department, so it's probably because someone cancelled their appointment and I got it instead.

Oh my god, what am I supposed to do? Call my mother. Okay, she just said I had to think about it. Yeah, my head will definitely explode... More tea and cigarettes to calm me down. Writing lists on pros and cons. So far more cons, but the pros are stronger. God damn hard this is.

Yeah, I'm still repeating that "oh my god" while Anna tells me to stop cursing already. "It's not very productive and you don't even believe in God". Yeah yeah yeah, but I believe I just shun him and what does it matter anyway I need to vent god damn it.

Reasons to live and die

I think I see it now, why my desperate heart just keeps on falling in love and then breaking and falling again before it even had a chance to heal. I live and die for love. As insipid or silly as it might seem, love has always been my reason to stay alive in hard times. But it has also always been my reason to die when I've felt I can't go on any longer. It's like the core of my whole being is centred around that profoundly stupid heart of mine.

My greatest strength is my greatest weakness. And there we have it. Love. As simple yet as overwhelmingly complicated as that. Would I even want it for something else instead? I mean, would I choose to not have this chaotic heart if I could? I don't know. But it's wearing me out, and I think it will be the real reason for my death, eventually.

That of course, isn't just negative in my eyes. I'm ambivalent to death the same way as I'm ambivalent to love. They both have these two in common: loss and home. It's either or, and you can never choose which one it will be.

When love gives me loss I find home in death, and when death means loss to me it's usually when love means home. Of course they can both mean loss, but can they both mean home?

Racing heart

My paranoia is getting annoying. I just heard something and thought it was mail being dropped into my mailbox, but it wasn't. My heart started racing like hell. The fuck? I can't even open windows cause I'm afraid someone or something will get in, even when I'm sitting here with my eyes and ears open.

I'm trying to keep my nerves together... I can't understand where that sound came from or what it was. It's worrying me. Think of something else. Calm down my jaded heart. Play some more WoW.

I seriously don't know what's up with me today. I have this bitter joy crawling inside me, poisonous and tender. So ambivalent words just can't describe it. Sadness and joy, or guilt and hopefulness, it's both sweet and sour. Better than just sour, but it's one hell of a confusion. I'm wrecking my brain with this unsolvable puzzle...

Cause I'm trying to understand, trying to gather myself, find a proper reaction. Not proper to others, but for myself alone. Cause I honestly don't know if I should laugh or cry. Yet again my heart won't calm down. But yeah, I do feel joy. Like something is coming my way.

At least I hope so, yet it's way too early to tell. But I feel guilty too. I will keep this to myself, and I rightfully should, but I can't help but sharing my emotions concerning it. It's taking up all the space in my mind and heart.

"I look into my eyes
from another place
a scarlet breaking point
out of this maze

Withering in a fading glow
but still they burn
caught up in tragedy
they have so much to learn

A story without an ending
I still believe in this fairytale
what is broken can be mended
it doesn't have to fail

Should have known by now
what cannot work within reason
but I don't regret anything
cause there's always a new season

Ambivalence in this moment
cause it came true my hope
at the expense of
someone else's way to cope"

Live or die

I've been in distress the whole day, and fighting to not lose it when I had to be social. My mother and sister came by, and it was clear to me that I needed their support and guiding for my shopping of various necessities. I faded out in the car when they were talking about something they thought was funny. I couldn't hear it, nor did I care. My mother asked me if there's anybody there (in me, as in was I present), and I just couldn't take my eyes of the air in front of me, but managed to say "no". That must be the closest thing to truth I've ever spoken these last few weeks.

I think I need to tell my mother about that part of me being suicidal and all, but I just don't want her to worry. I've started thinking that if I die everyone would be better off without me. I'm such a mess, causing everyone to worry. I can tell you have all given up on me. That I will never be happy, never have a career, never learn to drive, never start living. I can't even imagine how hard it must be to have a friend, a brother or a son who has repeatedly tried to commit suicide for a decade. All I am is failure, my life was a mistake. I'm not saying you don't care, cause I know that you do, and that is why you worry, cause if you didn't care you wouldn't be worried.

No, I'm not yet planning anything. My thoughts of suicide are tangled in webs of incoherent words and brutal pictures in my head. I visualise how it could be like to jump, or rather just fall. Or would I faint? My fear of heights is extreme, you see. I imagine I would feel so dizzy and nauseous and that my heart would beat so fast. I can't imagine anything more scary, so why would I want to end my life that way?

These thoughts give me a headache. Beyond the fact that I already hurt inside cause I think my heart has tied a knot around itself. I don't want to die, I don't want to leave everything to never be able to go back. The problem is that I don't want to live either. I really, really don't want to live like this. What was it I said? That I have nothing to lose by staying alive because sooner or later we all die.
What kind of crap is that? As long as I'm alive I will always have something to lose. But the most ironic of it all, is that most of all, right now, I fear for my future. I fear that I will kill myself. That must be the definition of ambivalence. That I want to kill myself at the same time as I'm scared as hell that I'll actually do it. What a paradox I've gotten myself into.

I'm torn apart between them. Of not wanting to either live or die, being just as scared of living as I am of dying. But this little voice inside my head (not Anna) says: make up your mind, live or die. And a part of me so silently whispers that I can just barely hear it: I choose to die.

Unliveable life

I don't know what to say. I feel cold inside. Empty. Apathy has come to stay. I don't know if this a form of depression, but I have a sensation that it could be. My inability to get out of bed. The way everything is hollow, tasteless, dull, empty, colourless, meaningless. I'm still creative though. Still able to draw, write poems, and enjoy playing WoW. But everything is half hearted. It's like I just "have to" do it to get it off me.

Like playing WoW is just a way of making time pass, time that I don't want. All I ever have is time and all I want is for it to go away. Another emotional suicide, killing everything I have inside me, killing all the time I can instead of making it stop permanently. I'm suicidal, but choose to keep on living at the same time as I'm in a way killing my life. Do you understand? I'm killing myself indirectly.

It's killing me. There's so much that is killing me inside. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to endure. I'm filled to the brim with medications, yet I'm just a heartbeat away from being full blown suicidal again. This mess is eating me alive, I become thinner every day, until soon I'm just an empty shell. I'm filling that void with smoke, cause at least there'll be something in there.

It's weird that the more I feel, the emptier I feel. It's like all these emotions extinguish each other. They vaporise before I can catch them and analyse them. But I can tell this pressure from within can't hold much longer. What I want in life I cannot have, and what I have I do not want.

I want to be someone else, a totally different person. Make me his girlfriend, or make me a healthy young adult with his whole life ahead of him, make me loveable and make my life liveable.

What I can't control

I've recently figured out that I'm a bit of a control freak. But at the same time I have no control to begin with. I think they are related though, rather than opposing. That because I feel I have no control over anything, I have this insane need to find that control. Cause it scares me, just how out of control my whole life is. That I can't even control what to eat, when to sleep, my self harm addictions, my (in)ability to function in society. I'm trying to reverse it, to gain the control I've never had.

*

I just asked myself: what do I most fear? and the answer I came up with was: being this miserable for the rest of my days. But in that case I don't have anything to fear, right? Fearing something that already is to continue, isn't that rather about enduring and not being willing to accept things as they are? I really have nothing to lose in that sense, cause I don't fear losing something. I fear not gaining something.

*

When I woke up this morning it was from a dream. In the dream my teeth were falling out one at a time because I had not taken care of them for a long time. It was so realistic. Abruptly I awakened and instantly yelled out: "That's it, I'm gonna start brushing my teeth more often!" My dreams are like that now. Super intense and so realistic that they wake me up instantly and as a result I'm either horrified, inspired, disgusted, heavily confused, angry or sad to tears. Usually I'm additionally yelling something out, anything from a simple shriek to a whole conversation with myself. It's a bit disturbing to say the least.

The bridge between my dreams and the awaken world is shattering, blurred. Somehow I'm worried that one day I won't be able to wake up from those nightmares, that they will continue after I wake up, forever. I don't even know if that's possible, but in my world, absolutely anything is possible. I believe in everything, you know? Including literally getting stuck in an eternal nightmare.

Dark thoughts

Watching Criminal Minds still fucks me up. It awakens dark thoughts and feelings inside me that I don't even want to acknowledge. This episode I just recently watched, it's in the second season, was about a kid with murder fantasies, and he said: "in order to save others from dying I have to kill myself" and it just struck something inside me. That a part of me thought I was just like him, a bomb waiting to explode, until one day those fantasies would become real. Though there is this other part of me saying that as long as I hang on to the feeling of not really wanting to commit those crimes, I can keep it in check.

I've had those dark thoughts and fantasies since I was about twelve, but it has been escalating. Increased. Turned to actual plans. Plans I've been perfecting for years. And maybe there is some solace in that I've been at it, just planning and fantasising without doing anything, for years. I'm still smart enough to not wanna risk my whole life for making a fantasy become real. Besides, reality rarely lives up to an ideal, right?

But there is this uncertainty that keeps gnawing inside me, that maybe one day... And also if I keep losing my mind the way I've been doing these last seven months or so, I can never know for sure what that could lead me to in the future. Cause there actually is a psychotic killer inside of me, wanting to live out its fantasies.

The thing is, I really don't know which side of the law I stand on, when it really comes down to it. I admire murderers at the same time as I think the death penalty is a good thing. Perhaps that would be an "easy escape" if I'd one day end up in that situation. The thought "what the fuck is wrong with me?" pops up in my head. Well, what is right?

Paradox of pain

This headache is starting to get to me. It was bad an hour ago, so I took a Treo. Now it's worse. So much for that... I found a new way to self harm again, which is to sit in uncomfortable positions so to the point that I can just barely walk, right after getting up. I'm fine after a few minutes though. But the thing is, it's more complicated than that. Not just about inflicting pain.

I feel weird watching through all the "Criminal Minds" episodes and feel that I have to curl up in my arm chair. To protect or comfort myself, or something like that. It's a paradox, because the most uncomfortable positions are also the only comfortable ones. Mind over matter: what is comfort for the mind is pain to the body, and what is comfort for the body, is pain to the mind. And my mind always has the last say.

It strikes me that maybe that is what the concept of self harm is all about. The paradox about comfort and pain, that they can be the same. To me it is that way, though I can only speak for myself. And I think that is also why my mind is able to play tricks on me, making me self harm without me noticing it, because I recognise it as comfort. Something good as opposed to bad. I can only see one side of the coin.

Everything is paradoxes and ambivalence in my world, the world as I know it, and it does confuse me sometimes. Because I can only explain a paradox with another. It has come to my knowledge that it's possible it's just my way of looking at things. My perception, and not the truth. I'm dulled by my own mind, as usual.

How much longer

I've started to escape my reality with sleep. To the point of taking more sedatives when I wake up so that I can sleep some more. I just tipped the scale, didn't I? From extreme sleep deprivation to over sleeping. It all stems from the same problem though: don't wanna sleep, and don't wanna be awake at the same time.

Didn't go to the grocery store today, even though I'm all out of food, or almost. My anxiety or sadness is still deep and I'd rather just sit in here doing nothing, than put on a jacket and go buy some food. On one hand I think that nobody cares about my suffering, but on the other hand I think they all care too much.

This is something I can't do anything about, I only have two options. One being keep bottling it up, keep pressing all these feeling away as far as I possibly can. The other is letting them roam free and possibly destroy me in the process. I suppose I value my life more this time, and I protect it as much as I can. But my mind is sore and my heart is weak. Carrying this is tiring me and I don't know how much further I'll be able to.

Once again I'm falling apart, but this time I'm actually trying not to. Willed enough to keep on fighting, but not strong enough. And I thought self destruction was only something you do by choice.

Hate and acceptance

I realise that I hate more people than I thought. People that have in one way or another wronged me. Some of which I still consider friends. Can one hate a friend? Well, I can hate a person but still like some of their qualities. Enough to keep a distance and always keep my guard up, but still being able to laugh at their jokes and agree with them with some of their opinions. Some of them I just pretend to friends with though. Have them added on Facebook so that I can keep up with what's going on in their lives, and take joy out of their misery. All the while being nice and friendly to them, pretending that I care and like when things go well for them. At the same time as I in my mind hope they fuck up or get hurt by someone else.

I don't really know why I keep in touch with these people, maybe I just am that piteous. Most of the time I don't realise just what happened until some time after. Or well, generally quite long time afterwards, to be honest. When that question someone pushed me with to do something I rather didn't do, repeatedly - and repeatedly I caved in - was more of a demand when I come to think of it. Or when a person showed affection and shunned me for years knowing I was interested, that person was more specifically using me when I come to think of it.

I'm listening to Aesthetic Perfection's song "Schadenfreude", which means gloat in German, but apparently it's an English word as well (obviously a loanword). The chorus is just the best:  

Don't need to be the one who does it you 
Don't need to twist the knife or push it through
Just want to see that you're in misery too
Just like me inside

I can be a bit stupid when it comes to meeting people that will later hurt me in some way or another. I have always had this attitude that I think I'm whining over trivialities in situations I really should have just ran for my life. It's hard to identify a problem like that, and knowing whether or not it was just a mishap I should get over or something worse, and knowing if it really hurt me. That's the thing about being a wreck already to begin with: sometimes I don't even notice when someone has caused me to feel even worse.

I do know that I'm very careless when it comes to relationships, whether friends or lovers. Give my heart to some asshole who hurts me and then I do it allover again with someone else. Maybe I just can't tell the difference between good and bad people, just because I don't believe there are people of either kind. That if a kind and caring person does something questionable I just think it's human to do so and simply accept it. But I know that I accept too much, and can only hope that some day maybe I will learn when something is not acceptable before I let them break me.

Living with it

Everything is so frustrating in my life now. Like everything is just a game and nothing ever goes my way. I stop for a second and ask myself: is it even worth fighting for? It feels like I know everything will keep on falling apart and that will lead me to my final suicide attempt. But right now, as far as I know, I hope that will happen as far away in the future as possible.

If I can learn to enjoy, truly enjoy suffering and misery, maybe I actually can enjoy this life. My dark, twisted fairytale. My dystopian paradise. Don't just learn how to survive in constant pain, don't just learn how to live with it and deal with it, learn how to like it. To smile when my head hurts so much I can't even get out of bed, giggle when society takes away my rights as the human being I try to be, laugh when my heart breaks into pieces. Embrace the darkness.

I guess I'm just having one of those days, huh? Is it worth fighting for? I don't know, I don't care, I'll be here until the end whether I fight or not, won't I? That long last end that will be the light at the end of the tunnel. At least I have something to look forward to. And I have been looking forward to it since I was six years old, when I still pinched myself in the arm to try to wake up from this nightmare. But I know now that even nightmares can be real.

Really, what's up with me today!? Seem to be a little out of shape, mentally. Oh, by the way, I've made a decision regarding my sleep-shit: this time I will reach one hundred hours of total sleep deprivation and no more or less. After that there will be no more of this. I've already passed fifty hours, less than half left!

Fuck this insane game, fuck self harm and fuck hypnophobia. I need a vacation from this chaos. I am in control of my life and particularly my body. I'm breaking the habit, or at least I'm gonna try. Maybe the imbeciles at the psych-ward can help me if all else fails. I'm just so tired of this, wanting nothing but least of all this.

And that sums up everything, doesn't it? I want nothing, but least of all I want what is tearing me apart at the moment. Existing is making me cranky today. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday and food sickens me. Maybe I'll go buy some more nutrition shakes, at least that's something.

The difference between us

Me and my realisations. Doesn't seem to be an end to them, does it? However, one of the most recent ones I had is about Anna. She can't feel or in any way experience love at all. She's never been in love with anyone that I have or haven't, she doesn't love any of my family members or friends, and obviously she doesn't have any of her own. The only other people besides me she could possibly befriend would be Vargyl or Satan, and she totally loathes both of them.

I can't even say that she loves me. It is more of a duty to her, I'm her duty. She came to me as my guardian angel and swore to protect me and that's why she exists in the first place, but it was never out of love. She's still like a guardian, except perhaps the "angel" part. Not really a saint, so to say, and she doesn't always stick to that oath nowadays. Well, we're not kids any more.

It came to my understanding that we are total opposites on that matter, like night and day. That she's completely incapable of feeling love and I'm almost constantly more or less in love with someone (cause honestly, have I ever been out of love since fifth grade?)

I've always been hoping for her to like the same person as I do, that that would somehow make me feel more whole. We are bits and pieces of each other, if not entirely the same person cut in half. So if that's the case, I can't help but wonder how deeply I've ever been in love, how terribly lovesick I've ever been: was/is there a part of me not capable of feeling anything for anyone? And that "part of me" being Anna, I mean.

It's hard for me to think of us as the same person, but in a way I believe that it could most likely be so. It's not exactly common for a person to get a "walk in" spirit or something just moving in to your brain all of a sudden right after a terrible childhood trauma. It just doesn't quite resonate as something like that in our case. It's text book mental disorder.

I know it's a contradiction, but I also truly believe that she is indeed a person of her own, another life form of sorts. I can't explain it, as I've mentioned a gazillion times before. But it has to do with the fact that even if we once were the same person before we split, we definitely aren't any more. We've grown apart, developed different personalities and she has every quality any other real person would have - except for a body of her own. A life of her own, cause she is literally living my life.

So what I'm saying is that I shouldn't invalidate her feelings (or lack there of) just because they aren't equal to mine, and state that it doesn't make me feel "whole" when it just further proves that we aren't the same. In my world it is perfectly possible to not be able to feel love at all; in the same way it's obviously possible for me to feel love so insanely strong and much and out of control it has led me to obsessions, stalker-ish behaviour, heartbreak after heartbreak and at least five suicide attempts just because I got more than I could handle. (Love is supposed to be a positive feeling, right? But too much of anything will break you, or even kill you.)

Perhaps I just want to finally share those feelings with her, want her to know what it's like and be in it together. Cause it pisses me off that she's constantly criticising what she can't understand.