A glimpse of the process

Got right back to my sewing project again (like every day for about a week now) and started making fells on the filling fabric. So basically I'm gonna do a second coat in that fabric and sew stuck inside the actual coat. My mother gave me tips that I probably won't take into consideration. She might know a bit about sewing, but she hasn't exactly made a lot clothes from scratch. In that way I know a lot more than she does, so if any, I should be giving her tips.

I think I have an idea how to do it, but I have to fix the seams on the inside of the coat first, to make it look good when I add the filling material. And then sew precisely where the seams already are, which is gonna be tricky. I can barely make a straight seam already as it is, so that will be a challenge. It's hard to undo stitches because the fabrics are so fragile and get damaged when I try. I don't have any of those nifty little needles for the job, so I have to make do with a razor blade. Finally found a good use for those... weapons. Okay, cigarette break is over.

I've sewn it together now, the filling material pieces into one piece, and will soon sew it onto the rest of the coat. Made my first real mistake now. Good that it took so long for that to happen! I did the fell on the wrong side on one of the side pieces, forgot it's supposed to be laterally reversed, but it won't show if you don't think about it.

Having my second cigarette break now with a diet drink as breakfast. Yeah yeah, I know. But at least I get something into my stomach, okay? Some people live on that stuff, you know. Then I'm gonna bleach my hair again today as well. And try not to damage the already white hair in the process. Just the roots.

Now I'm almost finished with the filling material, just have the sleeves left to do. Just realising another awesome thing about making my own coat: I can make the sleeves long enough to fit me! I have long arms and almost all jackets and coats have too short sleeves or the whole piece of clothing is too big. Problem solved.

Started on the sleeve endings, the cuffs, and continued with them up until the point where I'm so tired I can't see clearly. All the details kinda blur. I think that's a good time to stop for today. Don't know if I'll fix my hair later, I'm kinda worn out. Maybe some cigarettes and WoW can take care of that. Though I can't wait too long, gotta sleep some time tonight as well. See, I can't have a job or go to School, I'm all too busy already! Okay, that's enough ranting for now. I just wrote a passage during my cigarette breaks through the day, beginning at around 16:00 o'clock, I think.

Safe

I didn't tell my mother that I had my first shower post op, or that I almost fainted at the look of myself as the words "what have I done?" popped up in my head. I still don't regret anything, but it was quite a powerful feeling, whatever it was that I felt. Other times I think "why do I have to do something like this to be able to not hate my body?" and that it fucking sucks being transsexual. Fucking sucks.

I don't know why, but I feel a bit weird today. Maybe it's because I couldn't keep being smoke free anymore, that I fell back. I had one cigarette yesterday and I had another one today. But is one smoke a day really that bad? I don't know, but it doesn't seem to be the real reason as to why I feel weird.

Another theory I have is that it's getting harder to focus on world of warcraft and the game world. I space out and get tired of doing what I've been doing every day for two months now. I log onto Izanamí and do a run for that belt I want to complete my Arcanist Regalia outfit, head off to my farm to plant some new vegetable, do some daily quests and then I get bored. But that's not it either.

I'm still in love, by the way. It's just that I've had other things on my mind lately, with the surgery and all. I still think of him though, but I've find some sort of... I don't know, but it's like I feel safer, more grounded in this one sided non-relationship somehow. As long as things don't change for the worse I feel it's fairly easy to focus on other things instead. Like I put my feelings for him in a special place in my heart and they can stay there without me worrying so much all the time.

Now, if I could just figure out why I feel so weird... oh, it's because I am weird, isn't it? Well, that solves the mystery.

Habits

That cigarette craving comes and goes, and today it's really strong, pestering me with its presence. Can't I just have one tiny little cigarette? Nope, I know what it's like with relapses: it gets worse afterwards. Yeah, I actually had a tiny relapse before the surgery, as I smoked one (last) cigarette on February 14th. Totally justified, I hope you can agree on, but damn it was so hard to continue being smoke free after that relapse.

So I went to the doctor/nurse for my check up today, and now I can finally take a shower! I got some instructions on how to care for my wounds and she said it looks fine and heals up nicely, which of course is very good to hear. I had like a thousand questions to ask as well, thought that it's better to be safe than sorry. And I'm free to call them if I have more questions or if there's any change for the worse about my wounds.

Though that binder thingy is starting to smell a bit now... and I'm supposed to wear it for two or three more weeks 24/7 so I won't be able to wash it. Why can't they have given me two so that I could wash one after the other to keep it a little cleaner? Though I suppose I could use my old binder for the same purpose for a single day while washing this one. I see no reasons why not, but I'll have to think about it.

I had absolutely no problem flashing my chest to the nurse, by the way. It just felt natural somehow, nothing embarrassing about a young man's chest. Isn't it funny how fast you can get used to something positive? And before you think it, no it's got nothing to do with the fact that it was a nurse, I'm equally embarrassed or not no matter who I'm with or in what situation. Because when it comes right down to it, we are all human beings no matter what we do for a living or how sterile the room we are in is.

It's still healing up really good. No swelling or bruising. Nothing odd at all. It does seem a bit weird to me, I mean I have the worst luck ever in so many places and ways that I just count on everything to get complicated. So when something good finally happens I think that it's because of magic or the gods doing some neat tricks to keep me alive just a little bit longer or something. However, it is very nice when things go well, I'm not complaining. Just that I have a hard time believing it.

But love isn't fair

It's only two days left now, and the anxiety is holding a firm grip around my throat, suffocating me. It's the "Love is in the air" thing in world of warcraft now, and all the pink hearts popping up everywhere make me feel sick. Was it always like this? I don't remember.

This just struck me, what am I gonna do without the cigarettes this time? How can I endure this without the sweet smoke? Blood, alcohol, anxiolytic drugs, chocolate, blankets and warm showers, movies, more video gaming and whatever I can think of. Whatever I can think of...

I just got a phone call, and the person on the other end said they were calling from "Socialstyrelsen" and my heart missed a beat or two. I snapped at them and didn't know what I was feeling. But after they had explained who they were, I was like "oh... it's you" suddenly feeling utterly embarrassed and unnecessarily evil. Or something. It's just the LSS people, no worries at all.

I'm a bit jumpy and freaked allover today. Hardly know what I'm doing and I think I forgot to eat too. My head is spinning and I'm trying to calm down, but it's not easy. A thousand things run through it and I can't keep up. Maybe I shouldn't even try.

At first I thought this might not go so bad at all, considering I seem to take it better every year, but then this about the cigarettes. I'm in abstinence and quite a mess mentally. This... hopefully I don't go and do something stupid that I will regret after. It's just a memory, why do I let it kill me?

I miss my blood elf priest. Gonna go and do some pointless quests now. I know I don't write here that often nowadays, but trust me I do write, I just don't post it. Well, until now that is. The title, I just thought "love is in the air, but love isn't fair". No other reason, or whatever.

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.

What matters most

Ever since I got the news about that the surgery finally actually will happen, I've sensed a small glimpse of hope for my future. That suddenly everything doesn't look all too dim and dark. I know it won't bring me happiness (that is a very strong word, and I don't think any human being is truly happy). But I do think it will make me more complete, that it will boost my self esteem massively, that by removing one problem is a huge step to something that could one day lead to something close to happiness.

I guess you could compare it to people becoming parents for the first time: you know it's not gonna cure you, make you instantly happy or that all your problems will go away. But you know it will bring you joy and a sense of fulfilment. Something that you truly want, a decision that will forever change your life.

That's a little how I see it right now. I don't think I've been more positive about anything before. Not like this at least. I hate rules and being told what to do, yet here I am carefully following all the requirements for the surgery. I'm in constant pain that I choose to endure without pain killers because I can't take Treo or Bamyl. I'm forcing myself to quit smoking in a week even though I really love smoking. I'm risking everything, it feels like I'm risking everything for that surgery.

Falling fast

Smoking today's first cigarette is like a kiss, gentle and deep. I will miss this so much. Will only be three today as well, so the next one won't be until 5 pm. I'm seeing my psychiatrist today, I hope she can help me somehow.

I'm so tired and nothing can make me more alert. It's hard to focus on WoW, even though I really want to play, I zone out and forget what I was doing. Killing more monsters than I need to and not realising the quest is complete, killing the wrong monsters, flying in the wrong direction and so on.

What a way to start a day. Great, now I feel miserable because of my own fucked up way to deal with anxiety. I had not cut in about two weeks now, so this was my first relapse, and perhaps for a so-so okay reason. But it still makes me feel guilty. I know my cuts take about a week to heal up completely, so if I stop before the beginning of March it should be "fine" considering the surgery.

I've gotta buy more nicotine supplements, cause this just isn't working. I'm very addicted, I realise. Very, very addicted. And wearing two or three patches of the strongest kind simultaneously barely takes the edge of it. So... need more patches and chewing gums and whatever I can possibly find at the drug store, before my meeting in Visby. I really don't know how much longer I'll be able to go through this. I mean, I'm a damn mess even with the cigarettes to rely on.

I'm starting to wake up a bit now, finally. Yes! These chewing gums combined with all those patches helps a bit. I saw an instruction advise note in the drug store, that for those smoking more than 20 cigarettes a day should de-escalate a under three months period. Well...

Close enough

I only broke my smoking schedule once yesterday, so I still smoked very little, only 12 cigarettes. Instead of 11 that was my plan. I won't blame myself for that mistake, it's actually more surprising that I made it as good as I did.

Today I'm only allowed 9 cigarettes, which will probably be 10, but that's okay. It might even not reach to more than 8. Depends how good I am at distracting myself, and how bad my anxiety becomes at night.

So far I've also figured out which ones are the most important for me. The first one in the morning and the last one right before I go to bed. I'm "lucky" to only have two important ones, but it will be extra hard to let go of them at the end of the week.

Otherwise I think this will be doable, since my motivation is almost 100%. Almost, because I'm never exactly hundred on anything at all, and I've never been. If it's something very important it can land on something so close to hundred I count it as that. Like right now it feels like something close to 9,9999999% and that my dears, is fucking close enough.

I think I figured out what I am, or what is me. My personality, parts of my emotions, my past present and future. The deepest of my feelings, those that don't go away. Not the strongest emotions, just the deepest, if you know what I mean. Like my homesickness, longing, long lost love and such. My personality is what defines me, though not all of it.

I am not my thoughts, or at least so I believe. That thoughts come after emotions, that some thoughts aren't even mine, that they come from somewhere else. That might be schizo talk, thinking my thoughts are someone else's. But I believe that however.

Okay, that cigarette ended way too fast. Now I have at least five more minutes until that hour long car trip to Visby. I'm gonna see my speech therapist for the second time, yeah it's new one. Focused just on how I perceive my voice and what I can do to become more comfortable with it, and not so much on the trans aspect.

Trying not to drown

I'd rather be alone, than with anyone else than him. God, I'm so pathetic... how did I get this way? I promised not to fall in love, but I did it anyway. I tried for a while, I really did, but it was harder to not love him than it is to love him.

It's been getting worse lately. The feelings are more often overwhelming, and it's hard focusing on anything else. I do try though... sometimes. Other times it's just easier to wallow in the emotions, for some reason.

I'm drifting in and out of various states of apathy, longing, hopelessness, wanting, lack of appetite, some appetite, sleeplessness, sorrow, greed, wishing and hoping. I want those feelings to go away but I don't know what I want to feel instead. Some things I just can't get. His love in return, feeling complete, loved, appreciated, beautiful and content with myself and the life I live. That's never gonna happen, so I suppose I'm trying to make the best of what I do have in a bizarre, potentially fatal way.

Giving in... that has never been a good thing to do when it comes to my decisions in life. That's what has lead me to addictions, self destruction and suicide attempts in the past. When I just let go and let my mind and heart tear me to pieces. Or maybe I'm just mixing up "giving in" with "giving up" cause they tend to look a bit like twins from where I stand.

I can't help but wonder how much longer this can go on. Weeks, months, years? I can't be in love with him for years, right? That sounds so damn... painful. It's been two months already and I can barely endure it as of now. It's growing stronger, and every day it becomes a little more painful, a little more fatal. And by fatal I do mean suicide.

I'm gonna try to avoid that though, but lovesickness isn't something shrinks understand, it's not in their hands. But suicide is, and whatever the reason. It's just that if they have no idea how to handle a patient with severe lovesickness, then how would they be able to help me if it was to come to that?

I suppose I will have to help myself as usual... and that's gone well in the past... not. Sometimes I wonder that if I had ever gotten any useful help from the psychiatry I wouldn't be so fucked up as I am today. I've been thinking on and off that I should just cut off all contact with the psychiatry, they're just making everything worse. And I ask myself why I'm even going there.

So... (yes, this entry will go on forever) I really don't have a solution to what I should do if this gets any worse. I can take medication and seek comfort in others, but that's about it. And sad to say, but that has never been enough. I don't know what would be enough, I just know what isn't working. I'm tired of constantly trying to find new methods in how to survive, and repeating the old ones that didn't work. But what else can I do? Maybe this is what living is?

Try, fail and repeat. Over and over and over until there won't be any more repeat. I don't know how to sleep or eat, I don't know how to feel and think, I don't know how to be social or keep friends, I don't know how to heal or function, I don't know how to love and sometimes I forget to breathe. I don't know how to live, or even if I want to live. I'm mentally disabled and it's screwing with my soul.

I'm chain smoking again. That was a while ago. Well, not that long, come to think of it. Literally chain smoking, lighting a new cigarette right after putting the one before out. Today started out alright, but then I fell again. I should eat, take some pills, cut myself, whatever will help. I'm way past distractions now, but still far from an anxiety attack. I hope...

Everything isn't hopeless. Why do I keep forgetting that?! I'm eating, at least once a day. Though all I eat is pancakes and frozen microwave meals, but still. It could be classified as food. I have a circadian rhythm, though it's very hard for me to fall asleep and I don't get enough sleep, but still. I'm on hormones legally and supervised, and I will go in for surgery in the somewhat near future. Everything points to that at least, though it's been awfully quiet from the hospital. The point is: everything really isn't hopeless. It really isn't. It isn't hopeless. It isn't hopeless. Mantras, I've been doing that a lot lately. Doubt they help, but you never know.

Wanna see how much I can write at once without taking a break or deleting anything? Of course you do. Pausing for lighting a cigarette doesn't count.

I realise I really can go on forever with this. Weighting the pros and cons of being in love, of being alive. It's sad to say that no matter how I count, the negative always weighs more. But what am I gonna do about it? I have to own the whole world and be loved by everyone for the scale to tip the other way. But I don't want that, sounds strenuous... My dreams are too big and my hopes are too small. No, my hopes are also sky high.

My mind takes me to strange places when I think about meeting him in person. I just can't keep it on a realistic level. Just can't stop hoping, for what will never happen unless I'm EXTREMELY lucky, and I'm never extremely lucky. Not even close. Basically everything that I have to be thankful for in my life came to me because I put in a lot of effort, took a lot of risks and was very patient. So why am I hoping for a miracle, it will only hurt more than it already does because I know that won't happen. Not in this reality.

Perhaps it's because this is the last hope I can have in regards to this lovesickness: how he would react if or when I tell him. Cause after that there is no more. Then I can go back to hating everyone and blocking my own Facebook account again. Realising that being around people just makes everything worse, and that I'm better off far away from people.

Cause that's what the end of lovesickness reaches to. I break into even smaller and sharper pieces and shun the world and all that resembles it. At least I know what to expect this time. I just want it to be over, just want it to be over... and maybe that's the real reason why I wanna tell him, cause it might be the first step to some sort of recovery. But in that case it is selfish, and why place such a burden on him, the person I love so damn much I just wanna rip my heart out?

I don't understand myself, or the thoughts that I'm thinking. Nothing makes any sense! Believe me, I just want to do what is right, but I don't know what right is. I keep confusing right with wrong and all the shades in between. Is telling him wrong, is it right or just somewhere in between? If it's selfish, then it is wrong. But if not telling him is breaking me apart, isn't that also wrong? Is letting him know righteous, would he even want to know?

I'm completely analysing this into mashed potato. One moment, one feeling, one meeting that hasn't even taken place yet, analysed into a 1297 words long blog entry. Wow.

Distractions

Tonight I'm gonna see if it's possible to get up on the roof top of my house. No, I'm not gonna jump. Just wanna sit somewhere up high, challenge my fear of heights and enjoy the view.

I bought minty cigarettes cause I just got the idea in my head, and it was a while ago since I tasted such. They contain less nicotine, so it's also good if I can lessen my nicotine consumption that way. I got an appointment with a therapist (?) of some sort in early November, to help me quit smoking, but I figure if I can do some on my own it's good. Will keep smoking regular cigarettes as well though, but it's still one step on the way.

I suddenly got the feeling that I on some level actually do want to quit smoking, because it will so totally be worth it, if it really means getting my surgery as soon as possible. Looking forward to it so much! Everyday when I get my mail delivered I eagerly rip the envelopes apart hoping for it being from Karolinska. No news so far though.

I've gotta open a window before it becomes a suicide by cigarette smoke, sort of thing.

I'm embroidering a bit again, or well, it kinda comes and goes. I'm working on another piece on the side of the big one. This other pattern or what to call it is a bit simpler and more "free style". I don't follow an exact pattern, more like a general idea that I also keep adding stuff to. It's silly really, an eye with a dilated pupil, and there's a broken heart in it. It's crying blood and I think I will add some runny make up as well. It could be cool in an emo-ish way, sort of heartache/lovesickness inspired.

I'm totally happy about going to Uppsala this week, by the way! I've even started packing already. Been so damn long, can't even remember when I was to dMz last time. Must have been either fall 2011 or winter/spring 2012. Over a year ago in other words, maybe even two years. I'm gonna see as many of my friends as possible (or until I pass out from stress overload), buy a lot of shit I can't find in Visby and then go back home broke and worn out.

It's drowning me

I’m filling up my seventh cup of coffee for today now. A mixed feeling of bitterness and sadness is slowly drowning me, and for the first time in weeks I have to resist the urge to pour myself a drink. Can't remember if I've eaten anything today, that probably means that I haven't. Something shatters inside me when I have to cut more than once a day. Isn't that enough? Why can't that be enough?!

Obviously something is extra tough today. My mood still swings, but to the darker side more. I have no creative energy, just don't wanna do anything at all really. I'm jaded by the thought of sleep constantly on my mind, and how I try so hard to escape it with caffeine, cutting, cigarettes and music. I’m popping the last Lyrica I have with a Sobril. How the hell am I gonna manage this? Soon I’ll be a benzo addict as well, just because my fear of sleep is ripping my insides apart. It's horrible being afraid of something you have to endure every day. You seriously can't imagine it if you haven't experienced it yourself. It ruins everything.

It's worse now, cause now I’m actually trying to sleep at night. I succeeded this night, but it wasn't easy, not easy at all... I took my Mitrazapin and Lergigan at 22:00 as I was supposed to, but resisted the effect without caffeine. Held the jar with caff pills, just wanted them, craved them, but forced myself not to. Around 01:30 I freaked out, cut and swallowed two Sobril and one Imovane, got in the shower and stayed there until I couldn't stand up any longer when the effect had kicked in. I went to bed and lied there for at least an hour, scared as hell. Shifted between trying to close my eyes and go to sleep – and staring at my phone, right into his eyes on the picture on my cell phone screen, with jaded heartbeats, trying to force myself to stay awake. Around 03:30 or so I finally fell asleep, and got up at 09:50 when the crew woke me up.

So now I’m even more scared and stressed out, cause it's nine o'clock and the night is coming slowly closer. I’m fighting with all my strength, but it just doesn't seem to be enough. Will I stay up tonight or will I repeat the last? Don't wanna think about it, but it hurts less than seeing a picture of my love with his girlfriend. Thinking of how far far away he is, imagining him holding me, comforting me without words, just being here. My fantasies are so pointless, I wish I could just fall out of love. I hate my fucking heart! Why do I always have to repeat the same mistake of falling for unobtainable people over and over again? What's the damn fucking point in that?!

I just don't know what to do. What could possibly make me heal and move on when I just keep moving backwards all the time? I’m right where I was three years ago again, right in the same fucking mess. The only difference is that I live hundred miles away from my friends and the person I’m in love with now, and I don't go to school. I wear the same clothes, listen to the same music, wear the same feelings, going through the same addictions. Still can't fucking sleep or eat, I'm still filled to the brim with anxiety and struggling with the psychiatry that doesn't have a shit to give me. So what's the point of it all, what's the god damned point?

I've lived this far, I know I can survive it, but that's not the question. This has got nothing to do with suicide. All I want is to figure out a way to endure it without resorting to another failed suicide attempt. Cause that is also kinda pointless. All a failed suicide attempt brings me is shame, distress, feeling like a failure, apathy and complete, utter hopelessness. It's like even my heathen god laughs at me for being so pathetic. I just don't wanna feel this way, and I wish there was a cure for lovesickness. Cause it's drowning me.

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.

I'll smoke you like a cigarette

I’m less drowsy now, that took a while to wake up from... For some reason I am more, or most often

tired at night instead of day nowadays. That's odd. I don't remember it being like that since my childhood. Am I losing my nocturnalness? Hope not, that would make me sad. I adore the night, the darkness, the calm, the stars and the silence. And I keep inventing words... well, at least they're understandable...

I’m burning my favourite incense called “Dragon's blood” but I’m not sure what it smells like. A little woody maybe. It has a thick, sweet, metallic, kinda heavy smell. Almost a bit like blood. Smoked, spiced and burned blood. No, I don't know, and it doesn't say on the box.

I’ve noticed that while sleeping I always have to lie on my side, cause it feels like I’m lying uncomfortably on my wings and tail when I’m on my back, and like I’m pulling my neck out of joint when I’m on my stomach. That's one of the reasons I hate sharing bed with someone if it's a small bed and I can't room if I lie on my side. I basically can't sleep at all if I'm forced to lie in any other position. Then it's more comfortable on a pile of clothes on the floor. I'm fat enough to make that fairly comfortable...

I’m feeling a bit disorganised today, forgetting things and it's hard to concentrate on anything, even the fun and or interesting things. I even forget my cigarette, that I’m holding one and when I wanna take another drag it has gone out. So then I light a new one and the same thing happens. Goddamn waste of good smokes! But I hate relighting them after they've been put out. I’m still highly sensitive to smells (I can sense the difference between the smell of the smoke and the one from the cigarette itself from several decimetres away) and the sour bitterness disgusts me. And just that the taste/smell difference between brands is so immense I can't stand most of them. Only the best for me! And that is obviously Lucky Strike. I’m picky that way.

People seem to often be fascinated by my choice of cigarette brand, some even asking where I buy them. Well, almost every tobacco store and some convenient stores sells them... I don't even know why I like them so much, just that I started smoking them because Berny Pålsson wrote about them in her first autobiography. Also the way I smoke seem to surprise people, because I hold the smoke in for between 3 and 15 seconds normally. Breath control. I think the smoke stings too much in my mouth when I don't do that. I really don't do anything normally, do I?

Another pointless entry I realise, but I can't be interesting every minute of the day. Just wanna vary the pointless scrolling with some pointless writing, and what better way to do that than to ramble on my blog? Don't wanna fill out my paper diary with nonsense, after all those are quite expensive. They have to have blank pages in A5 size and not be too thin so that they can last a little while. They usually cost between 70 and 150 kronor, and some of them are filled to the brim with words within a week. Though that rarely happens, only if I’m left without access to a computer in a longer period of time. I do a lot of that, just writing down thoughts and feelings for no purpose or real meaning behind it. Some of it I post here, but most of it I just store on the computer. I’ve written somewhere around 30.000 words within this week alone.  

I’m addicted to writing. That sounds a bit absurd, I know, but it's also somewhat true. You can basically become addicted to everything and if you write thousands of words a day, I'd say you're pretty darn addicted!

I'm talking more to Vargyl nowadays (why does an American/Australian guy have Swedish name, by the way? Or is it pronounced “war-guile”? Really should just ask him, if I get around to that... is it silly that I feel embarrassed asking him that? I mean, since he's a figment of my imagination and all.) I'm still a bit scared of him sometimes, he's quite tricky, and I always have a sensation that he's up to something. But he's sweet and kind, though he doesn't talk much and always with short sentences. Our conversations often die out after a few exchanges of words, or how to say it.

Me: You're so sweet.

Vargyl: Thank you.

Me: I love you.

Vargyl: No you don't.

Me: I'm sorry...

Vargyl: It's okay, you don't need to.