Wake up and endure

I think there will be a lot of coffee drinking today. I've been up for three hours but I can't wake up, can't stop yawning and can't focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. I've already had three nicotine gums and put on two patches of the strongest kind. Singing along to up beat songs and having caffeine pills with my coffee. Something just has to work.

God damn, I want to smoke! But it's not the nicotine that I'm craving. I'm over dosing on it, I can't need any more, that would be beyond crazy if I do. Trying to just hold a cigarette and pretend to smoke it (it looks really silly, I can assure you) to see it that can help even remotely. Nope, didn't work, I lit it. Second and last for today... (How the hell I'm supposed to survive this I don't know.)

My psychiatrist said yesterday that she will write in my chart that I'm officially smoke free as of now. I don't know if that should make me feel good or guilty, cause I still smoke. Very little, which I told her, but still. Had three cigarettes yesterday and there will only be two today and one tomorrow. Then I will be smoke free for real the day after tomorrow, on Friday.

Just another addiction

Had a little nap. Just fell asleep on the sofa at eight on Wednesday evening and woke up just now, four o'clock in this early Friday morning. A 32 hours nap, breaking my previous record of the longest time I've been asleep for. Of course I woke up a few times during my visit to dream-/nightmareland, but I didn't want to get up. So I just stayed there. I chose to get up at this early hour because I'm going to see my shrink at 11:00 and I want to have some time just doing nothing before getting ready for that. It's not like I need to sleep more.

So this is it then? My sleep habit summed up in a month or two: awake for 30 to 80 hours, sleep for 20 to 30 hours. Afraid of sleeping and addicted to sleep deprivation for as long as my body and mind can take it. Cause yeah, that's what happened this time. I realised that I'm not just hypnophobic, but also addicted to causing myself sleep deprivation. How I figured that one out? I had miscalculated the hours of awaken time, from what I believed was 4 days, was actually only 3 days. I was upset that I had not at all reached something close to 100 hours, but "just" around 75 hours, barely breaking my old record.

"Was I proud over my imaginary extra 24 hors making me believe I'm close to a 100 hours of sleep deprivation? Was I fucking proud?!" I wrote in my paper diary. The anxiety that realisation gave me was a bit more than I could take. So I took 2 Zyprexa, 2 caff. pills and downed them with a solution of 2 Bamyl Koffein. Hoping that all the caffeine would keep me awake while the Zyprexa usually makes me tired. Failed. So I can't even take Zyprexa for my anxiety anymore? Well that's just great.

I gave up and stopped fighting. I felt like shit after what felt like 95 hours but was only 75. I couldn't do it, keep on fighting with all those feelings of being a fucking failure. Something I shouldn't feel like a failure over. So I took my horrible feelings and lied down on the sofa. When misery wins over misery.

Labyrinth of thoughts

Inside me a whole drug store, and do I feel satisfied? No. Apparently I've made a playlist on Spotify 4 days ago, but I have no idea what band that is, or why I all of a sudden have playlist filled with their songs. Probably found them on tumblr, I'm finding all sorts of music there, what people upload and end up in my news feed. They're really good though!

My brain is doing funky things with me again. And the headless horseman in WoW is annoying the fuck out of me, running and screaming allover Dun Morogh where I try to level a gnome. I don't particularly like that race, but I just gotta have a mechanical chicken mount so. Scattered thoughts again, I take it. Where was I? I'm losing my train of thought before I get it, and it's very annoying, that too. Caffeine, sleep deprivation/hypersomnia or Schizophrenia? Cause maybe all four of them.

I once said that I sort of have both insomnia and hypersomnia: cause I can't fall asleep, but when I eventually do I'm sleeping way too much. Awake for 48 hours - asleep for 20 hours. It's insane, I'm insane. And it's not so weird I'm freaking out, but I'm not. I'm just... complaining. But do I even have the authority to complain? Because for some reason I think this is all my own damn fault.

I know, I know, mental illness is never anybody's fault, especially not the one who has it. But you know that saying "one thing led to another"? This summer... didn't I just mess things up on my own free will? Hmm, this song is good!* What I mean is that I literally allowed myself to fall in love again, I even said it out loud. Then when I wanted to stop cutting I started to self harm in other ways, like sleep deprivation.

All the built up anxiety from tackling too much at once led me to have worse nightmares than ever before and so I kept causing myself sleep deprivation deliberately. That was supposedly "fixed" during my stay at the psych-ward, but then I fell much harder for my crush, to whom I now refer to as my love, because "crush" is just by far not strong enough a word for what I feel for him, and have for the last 2 or 3 months now. Anyways, the lovesickness caused complete loss of appetite (it was so bad I felt disgusted by the smell of chocolate... or well, I still do) and insomnia. The insomnia led me back to my fear of dreaming at night and turned into a bad case of hypnophobia. And here we are now.

So, amidst the chaos I do see a red line here. I caused this! Talking about being a fuck up! What is it, was I bored to tears or what?! I know I shouldn't blame myself, and that I took the "choice" of falling for him just split seconds after I realised my heart alone had already made its own choice. My attempts to not fall for him were futile, and I might not be a seer, but I knew. I knew this was gonna get just as bad as it was back 2010/2011. At the exact same time of the year too, well not exact, one month shifted. But in November 2010 I was where I am now, emotionally. Different person, different kinds of feelings, but the same fucking scenario.

So what I'm trying to say is, maybe it was just a way of accepting the reality, when I bowed to myself and sincerely declared that I allow myself to fall for him. Oh, god... I can't believe I just sifted through all of everything I liked on tumblr just to see if I could find that band on my playlist. Where is my mind, really? I lost it so many years ago I don't even know where to look... somewhere in a since long demolished playground in Alunda? There's my first bet.



*The song I'm referring to:  "Big bad wolf" by Aesthetic Perfection.

Ambivalent sleep issues

I just wanna tell him that I love him, but I can't. It's eating at me, I don't like keeping secrets, they almost always come out one way or another eventually, because I can't hold it in any longer. This only goes for my own secrets, I should assure you. Other people's secret I feel absolutely no need to blab about. Because that secret has already been shared, and it's not my secret to tell.

I've been pushed sometimes, to reveal someone else's secret, but no. When I make a promise not to tell, my lips are sealed under any and every circumstances. Drunk, high, pushed, worried - doesn't matter. Maybe that's why people so easily seem to trust me? Don't think I've thought about that before.

I'm screwing up my sleep again. I had an instant choice to make, when I felt I was getting sleepy: caffeine or sleeping pills. Eeny meeny miny moe... and I picked the bad choice. Once again the anxiety won over me, and another 12 hours or so will pass by without sleep. I have this nagging feeling that I wanna "prove" that I'm still hypnophobic, which is so stupid I can't even believe I'm writing it here. The strongest reason though, is that I just can't bear another night fighting to fall asleep.

It's the opposite of what my psychologist advised me to do, but it's not like I have a "turn off-button" lying around somewhere. You can't just ignore a fear that powerful and crippling. It's like I'm standing at the edge of the roof of a very high building every night, looking down, and maybe you can understand what that's like. Even if you don't have a distinct fear of heights.

Cause sometimes the war in my head is killing me. Over and over in ways I didn't even think was possible. It always finds new ways, creeping in through cracks I didn't before know were there. Anxiety, or straight out uncontrollable fear, is sneaky that way, and I believe there is nothing in this world, in this realm of reality, that one cannot feel anxious about. Just that thought makes me anxious! But it's true.

Disconnected

I've only had three cups of coffee today and as a result I got some nasty tremors. My crazy body seems to think that I'm detoxing... wow, I must have quite an addiction, huh? How did that happen? Oh... never mind.

Am I getting dumber every day or just more and more scatter minded? I can't put my thoughts together, they're just disconnected sentences. One of the really weird ones that popped up was "Trying to save an infinite amount of people just by licking their toes." I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. I'm writing them down, all these incoherent, random thoughts that doesn't belong to any sort of context.

I'm not lazy, I'm lethargic. Don't know in which context though, just thought of it. That might be another one of those weird sentences, by the way. Though it could be some truth in it. Can't bother analysing every little thing that invades my brain. Today I can't seem to analyse anything though, it just passes by and I'm sitting here confused. Like, I don't even know what's confusing me. I'm that confused...

Not here, not there

Some time in January next year I will have been in pain every day for nine years. Kinda inconceivable when I think about it. Can't help but wondering what I would have done back then, when I was 15, if I had known it was gonna last this long. Nine years is a long time, and I don't remember what it was like to be pain free. I can't even remember it.

For somehow I have gotten used to it always aching, pounding, hurting or stinging in this head of mine. Lately I've been in pain in other body parts as well, but that hasn't been consistent and is mostly just because I'm out of shape and sitting by the computer too much. And the pain I'm causing myself doesn't count.

It's been a bad day. I've been feeling strange, sort of empty, but it's not the right word. Think I might have discovered a new emotion again... hate it when I do that. Like I've just been wanting to flee all day, but at the same time absorb everything. I mentally suffocate myself for reasons that are to me unknown. Lethargic, despondent, hopeless and a little more lovesick they usually. On the verge of dissociation: halfly drifting into another state of existence, losing touch with reality for a moment before drifting back again.

I've pined, yearned for him so much today that my heart aches. Taken so much caffeine, like I'm jaded or chased by something. Like I'm trying to defend myself. I can't do anything productive, mostly I've just been staring at the screen. An empty stare, I've been looking without seeing.

Addictions

You know you have an addictive personality when you've been dependent on alcohol, cutting, caffeine, smoking, painkillers and a lot of other things that aren't even addictive. Now I “just” struggle with cutting, caffeine and cigarettes. Three “c”, what are the odds? I usually only have two or three addictions simultaneously. It's manageable, but not optimal, and as long as I stay away from drugs and alcohol I'm fairly functional. After all, both cigarettes and caffeine are socially acceptable, and cutting is rarely anyone else's business. As long as I don't start bleeding allover the place. First year of gymnasium comes to mind...

I wore short skirts combined with tights back then, and had moved on from cutting my arms to my lower legs. I had less sensation there (well, not anymore cause my arms are basically scar tissue now, and all the cutting has destroyed some nerves) so the gashes ended up deeper and thus they bled more. Often I remember bleeding through those tights, leaving little puddles of blood on the plastic floors in classrooms and corridors. I never got any comments though, I guess they all knew it was self inflicted wounds.

Now I’m back to my lower arms, cause it's easy access and well... it might sound stupid but it feels good to cut there. But it's getting hard to break through the scar tissue, so I suppose I’ll have to move on to another area again. Skin is the largest human organ, so it shouldn't be so fucking hard to find a “good” spot. First I wanted to go for my chest (since I kinda hate that part of my body) but I do realise that would not be so damn smart considering I’m gonna get operated on right there in the nearest future... think it through, think it through...

Thankfully, my episodes of alcoholism have been brief, for just a few months at a time. I really don't like being a drunk, to be honest. Sure, the rush of being tipsy 24/7 is quite nice, and it has also helps me sleeping and as a medication for my anxiety (and that's why I've been doing it). But in the long run it just harms more than it helps. It's expensive, you get dehydrated, it's complicated when traveling, it's a hell trying to hide it and on top of all you feel really pathetic.

Smoking cigarettes is by far my favourite drug. Easy access (as long as I remember to bring my ID-card, cause I still look like 17), socially acceptable to some degree and it's not as harmful as the other things I’ve listed. Sure it's dangerous, but you can't die from overdosing it. I have slowly increased the amount I consume it over time. When I was eighteen I smoked my very first cigarette and then had around five a month, then it escalated to about a pack a month, then a pack a week. When I was twenty one I learned how to take deep drags which made me physically addicted to nicotine and upped the dosage to about a pack a day. This spring I took it even further as I could finally smoke inside my apartment, and I’m now up at two to three packs a day. Mostly somewhere around 50 cigarettes, or one every fifteen minutes. Which basically means I’m holding a cigarette between my fingers sort of constantly.

My caffeine addiction comes and goes like my alcoholism, and the two are strangely often combined or succeed one another. What often drives me to detox from it, is as simple as that I get tired of, or feel disgusted by coffee all of a sudden. Though, this is my extreme caffeine addiction periods. Come to think of it, I’m always addicted to it. Just that most of the time I settle for tea and or coke. In that sense I haven't been caffeine free since I was 12 or something... but the caffeine addiction I have now is quite more severe, with 10 or up to 20 cups of coffee a day.

Painkillers. That was a short period of roughly four or five months back in late 2010 (at that time I was addicted to everything: alcohol, cutting, caffeine, smoking and painkillers). I had gotten Citodon prescribed for my headache that had gotten vastly more severe than usually, which is not so strange, all things considering. It was one hell of a time in my life. That Citodon didn't help much for the headache, but it sure made the pain funnier, so to say. It was so easy to overdose it, add booze and caffeine and head off to School... I’m still baffled that no one noticed anything. Except for painkillers I did some tripping on the mood stabilising drug Lyrica, about a year later, until the rashes became unbearable. I’ve abused almost every kind of pill I’ve gotten prescribed legally by various doctors over the years. And also over the counter meds that weren't prescribed for me, but legal in its own sense.

Just the act of abusing medicines like that in general, could almost be considered an addiction in itself. I can be kinda freaky like that, overdosing and combining pills wildly without having the slightest clue of what effect that will or won't give me. Mostly I just wake up with a headache the next day though. I still do it, but not in the purpose of killing myself, just for a rush of some, or any sort. What can I say, risk taking and surprises intrigues me. Just in it for the rush!

I feel like a pitiful being, when thinking about all of my addictions and what I’ve done to myself. What extreme lengths I go and have gone to, to achieve some relief from my own mind. When my meds aren't enough, when no meds are enough, when I try to live independently, when the psychiatry leaves me high and dry, when I can't stand living with myself. Maybe my self esteem has hit rock bottom, but I feel kinda pathetic. Like boohoo, I hate myself so much I’m gonna drink myself to death. Or whatever. I just don't know how to live, how does one do? I’m in pieces and instead of patching them up I just cut them into even smaller pieces. And I will probably always be addicted on one thing or another, just have to pick the least dangerous addiction and stick with that.

Creativity rush

“My next project will be advanced and take longer time” I remember babbling about in another entry. Well, I’ve been working 3-4 hours now and I’m almost half done with this last project. Didn't really count the fact that I’m constantly high on caffeine and don't sleep. This will all the done by tomorrow, most likely. And believe me, I’m methodical, careful and precise in every cut or stitch. Working with layers of fabric, thread and steel. Twisting, wrapping, sewing. Measuring and trying to not completely entangle myself in the messy little threads the fabric lets off. The latter completely fails though, it's like fighting with cobweb, it sticks everywhere except where it's supposed to be: in the fabric.

I’m having a little smoke break now, and enjoying the rush. The positive thing about these severely increased highs and lows that shifts multiple times a day, is that when I’m on a high it feels really fantastic! A bit like being on speed, except that I’m also creative, confident, have good self esteem and a constant smile on my lips.

That is not the caffeine by the way, because I get just as severe lows on the same (well I can't know exactly) doses of it. It could of course be that the caffeine is contributing to the increased variations between these polar extremes, but it doesn't just make me manic, is my point. It just increases, well everything it seems.

Alrighty then, back to work!

Darkened thoughts

01:12

I can feel the vein in my left temple pounding when I put my finger on it. The headache is worse now, pounding on my left side. A moment ago I started screaming, hitting my forehead and threw the embroidery across the room. It isn't going so well right now, I keep messing up my calculations and I don't wanna start making stitches on a whim. It's frustrating, so I put the embroidery away for a while. The energy drink tastes strange and sticks to the gum in my mouth. There's even a fly in it. Disgusting, but what else am I gonna do?

I’m more scared of sleeping than ever now, thanks to this headache. That's just great, make me hate myself even more why won't you!? What's your next move, night terrors? I ever allow myself to sleep again. I will stay awake until Wednesday when I’m off to the meeting with my psychiatrist, that's one and a half day, or 33 hours to be more precise, from now. With a mass load of caffeine and sugar I will make that possible with no doubt. I’m also eating again, which makes it even easier. Or simpler rather, cause sleep deprivation is never easy. Chosen or not.

03:19

I think I’m getting suicidal again... well, not so much literally, or how to say it, I really don't know. I have no plans, not even actual thoughts about it. Just this vague feeling that is sort of lingering. A feeling of how sweet death could be, to finally just end it all. All this suffering and despair. But when I think about the only method that I know will work: jumping, my heart starts racing and I get chills or something, that icy feeling in my gut. I look upon that feeling and feel disdain towards it. How horrible it would be to jump from that high. I don't even know where I could find such a place to throw myself from. My house is way to low, and I don't know any other building that could qualify a certain death. I suppose a suicide like that doesn't need much planning but to find a spot, but I don't want to do it, I’m not ready. Not yet.

It's just that I have this other prophecy thing, that I won't ever be lucky in love. I’m not lucky in anything, but I need this. Who doesn't need love? But to get a message like that, a fucking prophecy, saying you will never experience that is a little over the top. It darkens my thoughts, my smiles and every single feeling. That I’m destined to become lovesick every time I fall in love with someone, and in every relationship I won't be in love with my partner. That hurts, and I wish with all of my broken heart that isn't true, because if it is... I don't wanna think about that. But I do, and that's what leads me to these gnawing feelings that it might be better if I just died. But I don't want to give up, I want to prove that prophecy wrong, and as they say in the Angel series, prophecies aren't always true.

Highs and lows

I've been smiling continuously for like five minutes now. It's strange and it hurts my cheeks, but in a good way. I even took a picture just to see what my genuine smile looks like. Not quite like the fake, glued on smiles one usually makes for the camera. I like the way my teeth look! Except they're a little yellow now from all the smoking. I don't really like “perfect” teeth and I’m glad the braces I wore for two years didn't give me a Pepsodent tooth paste commercial smile. Where's the charm in that?

What do I have to grin about by the way? It's starting to really hurt my face now, and I’ve passed on to giggling as well. What's in that energy drink?! Did someone drop dope in it or what? Is it about something positive or is it sarcastic? A wide snarl to tell myself I can face my inner darkness and chaotic lifestyle and punch it to the ground, perhaps.

And so suddenly the amusement was replaced by sadness. For no apparent reason. What's up with me today? I probably should eat something, but I’d rather have another cigarette. I really hoped I would finish my little crafting project today, but the sewing machine needle broke so now I can't finish it. I just won't do it by hand, it's so tedious and I always end up stabbing myself in my fingers all the time. Sure it's annoying the first five times... though I’ve learned to ignore such pain and just keep on. I feel handicapped with a patch or thimble, so it's easier to just lick up the blood ignore the pounding pain. Distraction.

Now I'm smiling again. What the fuck?! I'll tell you, it's gotta be this sleep deprivation leaving strange marks in my mind. Like little unexplainable dots of confusion. Fucking up my emotions by poking the wrong neurons or something. Ugh, what do I know about neurology anyway? Less than I would want to know. I wanna know a lot about psychology and human behaviour, and even neurology cause it's so closely related to them. It fascinates me, cause there is so much to learn about it, so much which haven't even been discovered yet. An issue that will never ever bore me. There are so few of those things in this world to me. I don't know if this interest of mine has got to do with my interest for human beings or just my undying interest for understanding my own fucking brain.

Nonetheless, I believe it could be a healthy obsession, if I one day will be able to complete my gymnasium grades and get accepted to a really cool university program involving behavioural science, neurology or psychology, or possibly all three! 

Middle landing on apathy...

How to have fun in misery

I'm not sure whether the pictures I take of myself actually have become better lately, or if it just feels that way. Does the pictures look better cause I think that I'm actually looking better or is it the other way around?

Things are starting to look strange again... I’m torn between the fear of sleeping and the fear of hallucinating. I can't escape both, and I don't think that I can choose. What an obvious choice, perhaps, but it's never quite that simple when it comes to me. My fear of sleep is equally strong as my fear of hallucinating, thus making the decision impossible for me to make. I just wish I didn't have to make such a choice. But stupid as I am, I can feel it in my gut that I will choose to rather fight off imaginary insects to going to bed tonight. That's how far off the edge I am right now.

At least I got an appointment to see my therapist on Wednesday, so maybe I can get a tip or something on how to straighten myself out a little. If I will have to be admitted it will have to be a short visit cause I’m heading off to Uppsala the week after that! I really think I need that “perk me up” and it's better than any medicine or hospital bed. I even feel as if I have a slight case of energy going on these last few days. I’ve been taking a walk once, sometimes twice a day and my walk is light, steady and even faster than usually.

I’m making some stuff, sort of a Halloween outfit, but it's not a full costume. It will just be few items, quite outstanding ones, but still. Things I could, if I wanted to, find in one of those crappy stores selling cheap costumes, but I just want it to look right. And a little eye-catching perhaps. I know it's silly, but this will be my first Halloween as a Satanist and according to their bible it's the one holiday to be celebrated. I've always loved this holiday and so I thought, why not actually go out as something a little less boring than a vampire or zombie?

I’ve been planning on making something for Halloween all summer, even if it meant I was just gonna stalk the streets in Hemse wearing it. If I could just get it right... need to buy some light steel wires/net or something for my next part of the project. And lots of more fabric. It would have been neat with thin, smooth leather, but I haven't found any such. All they have on this island is rough sheep skins the farmers themselves fixed up, and that won't do. So I’ll just go for fabric that might resemble it a little. Maybe I’ll even mix up different materials... ah, the ideas are many! It's amazing what you can make out of simple pieces of cloth you have lying around in the house, if you just put your mind to it. Though I’m running out of such items, and I can't trash any more clothes for that purpose either.

I’m high on caffeine. Gulped down three large cans of energy drinks since midnight. If it wasn't for them I would not be awake by now. Sometimes when I’ve forgot to drink for a little while the tiredness comes right back at me, and I desperately drink half a can to “shape up” again. Oh, this week... it's been a whole week now, can you imagine? I don't know if it's worth any sort of comfort or anything, but just so you know, it's not a game or a world record competition for me to stay awake. Seriously don't know where that idea came from. It's an endless chase from an irrational fear that is somehow connected to my sleep. That's as much as I know at the moment.

(This is why self psycho-analysis is so addictive: it gives results.)

I keep mistaking objects in my apartment for cats. I wanna paint my nails, but I wanna finish my crafting first. Can't do that with newly painted nails. Oh well, I suppose I’ve got all night for that... but now the anxiety is starting to catch up with me again, at every time a day I went up last time. Now it was almost two nights ago I got up from bed, and the anxiety hits me again, counting the days and hours of awaken time passed. Cause I know that the longer I stay awake, the harder it will be to not fall asleep. I’ve been having such awful anxiety around midnight almost every night this week, cause that is when it hits me. When I have been awake for 18-23 or 42-47 hours and the tiredness hits me in the face and I feel like I can't stay up any longer. The feeling is so powerful, it's like it eats me alive. And I don't even know what it is I fear so badly I’ve been popping Zyprexa like a maniac just to stop hyperventilating and the feeling of being close to fainting. Feelings like that shouldn't come unnoticed.

At least now I know what I’m dealing with, approximately what it is I fear. But how the hell can one be afraid of sleeping?! Isn't that against human nature or something? Well, all of me is apparently in some way or another against human nature... though at least I’m not the only one with this particular problem. Just hoping my doctors will take me seriously this time. Not just the obvious sleep deprivation issue, but the fear that lies behind it. Cause it doesn't matter what pills they give me for my sleep when I won't even take them.

I feel like a train of misery, passing or picking up every nasty experience I come by.

In my perception

Just drank a cup of extra strong coffee (seriously super strong) and my heart is beating its way out of my chest, I’m sweating, dizzy and my stomach hurts. Great job, excellent idea! What the hell was I thinking?! I’m lost inside my thoughts and scared of falling asleep. Just wanted to stay awake. I can't go to sleep unfinished, but I never get finished nowadays. My insides are eating me from within. I don't know what this is. I'm lovesick, so I stopped eating and sleeping. Which caused me to hallucinate, get scared of sleeping and completely lose my appetite. The forced upon me insomnia became a chase controlled by caffeine. My imploding mind scared me and now I can't stop thinking about the things I’ve seen that wasn't real. One thing always leads to another, but I won't know where it leads me until I’m there. It scares me and thrills me.

This is exactly the kind of moments I should start gnawing on those Zyprexa pills. Need to tell my mother to bring me more of those, they will be much needed and appreciated. What would I do without tiny little pills with unpronounceable ingredients, to make my inner monsters go away? I’d be dead by now, but I wonder since how long? Not that long, I think, a couple of years or so. I still sometimes think that I actually am dead. Just haven't realised it yet. That I’m a ghost, still hanging around in the world of the living without realising I’m not alive anymore. That thought scares me, that I could be stuck in some sort of limbo. Limbos always scare me, I’ve been in a few. You feel so lost, hopeless and helpless then. Like there's literally nothing you can do, someone else is holding your life in their hands, you're left with two options which each will shatter your world and there is no third option. Of course matters can be resolved, cause they did for me, but I that moment you're so very vulnerable. And I think I am in one right now.

I believe in too much, I believe in everything. Well, not blindly, but yeah, I do think there's a possibility for absolutely everything to be real. Dragons, God, conspiracy theories, other dimensions, time travel, aliens, heaven and hell, reincarnation, demons and angels, luck, curses, magic, spirits or ghosts, telepathy, and oh damn this is my illness talking... I just watched an episode of the fairly new tv-show “Perception” about a Schizophrenic neurologist who sometimes works for the FBI. If anyone remember or have seen the show “Will & Grace” - it is he in the lead role. Anyways, in this episode that I just watched he had found some clinic to help a girl get rid of her OCD, a cure (which was obviously fake by the way, that's the annoying thing about this show. If you have any clue about mental illness and treatments for them, you'll notice there's a lot of shit the creators have made up. Also there was an episode based on a known case of teenage girls getting tics after having some sort of surgery, but in this episode it was about a murder. That annoyed me cause they changed a real story to something incredibly stupid...) Where was I? Yes, he said at the end of the episode that “if there's a cure for one mental illness, there will be cures for others in the future”.

I was close to tears when I thought of that. That a cure would be nice. For whatever it is that I have. Asperger is the only diagnose I know is real. Or no, sometimes I doubt that too. Cause it just doesn't fit with all the other shit. And the likeness between Asperger Syndrome and Schizophrenia is striking. I could have the other and neither Asperger or Borderline. I could have only Asperger and something else altogether that's causing my hallucinations and all the other signs of Schizophrenia... No, who am I kidding, it's spot on. I wish it wasn't, but I can't deny the hell I’m living or my obsessive compulsive psycho-analysis on myself. But I’ve reached the end now, haven't I? This is it, I won't come any closer to the truth. Unless... I should buy some books about it! I might not be able to get in to a psychology class, but I could at least do some research on my own.

Oh my god, pills now! There, taken. I took them last night too, two pills that dissolves in my mouth. They're pretty effective, which is amazing, since hardly anything works on my anxiety. Except for strong benzo and no sane doctor will give me that. Pricks! Well, okay I’d probably OD on them if I had some, but still! Zyprexa is actually an antipsychotic, which I think is very good since I’m closer to paranoia and hallucinations triggering each other, rather than an actual anxiety attack.

Okay, that's enough for now. I’ll give you an update or something when the pills have kicked in. Meanwhile I’m listening to “Schizophrenia” by Funker Vogt on repeat. Just freaking love that song! Too bad I can't hear what is sung in it, and lyrics are nowhere to be found...

I'm praying to the Devil again... feels like I’ve done that a lot lately. Some things he can help me with, others he can't. I just don't really know which, so I’m praying either way. If I was a Christian and prayed to their god, everyone would be all cheerful and say “oh my god, that's so good!” or something. Well, my god isn't so bad either! He's just been judged and hated for going his own way and saying “fuck that shit” when others try to strap him down. It's not so strange why I’m drawn to him.