The darker half

I had a meeting with that welfare officer again today, and I was pretty blunt with her. She noticed my personality change and said I was different this time. I don't know what to think of that, didn't think it was actually that noticeable.

Anyway, I finally asked her why we're having these meetings, what's her role in this whole deal. She said my doctor (who left me) wanted me to have someone to check up on me meanwhile I'm waiting for another doctor. Especially regarding self harm and suicidal thoughts. She got worried, that welfare officer, that I wasn't gonna see my shrink until August again. I told her I could just get in contact with my shrink whenever if I needed her. She still didn't want to let go of me.

Fucking cunt, I despise her. I don't need more people who think they need to look after me. My whole life is care takers and shrinks and doctors and I'm so sick of it. So sick of being treated like I'm a fragile little glass doll. I might not be able to take care of myself, but I'm very capable of making my own decisions.

I'm on a waiting list to see my new doctor, which will probably be sometime in June. I really need to see her, cause I think I need to up my Abilify, but don't know how to handle that. I need it for my psychotic tendencies, but I can't mention that. Seriously, I'm shifting personalities and seeing signs and messages everywhere. I'm on the brink again and I really don't want to fall down into that black abyss again.

So I don't know how to handle that. I finally succeeded to get antipsychotic drugs, but they're not doing shit and I can't tell doctors that I'm psychotic. Someone please kill me now... I don't know how much longer I can handle this on my own.

Shit, I'm still the dark me and I can't shift back. What if one day I get stuck like this? If I one day can never shift back? I realise that when I was reckless and didn't care about anyone, when I had thoughts of cannibalism and murder with sociopathic tendencies, when I was cold and heartless: I was the dark me. I don't want to fully become that. It scares me. Maybe I have no reason to worry, but it still scares me.

Even if I don't need to worry, I still believe there is a small chance of that to happen. I've heard about it before, in other people's cases. So I have heard about it before then? Not necessarily personality shifts as such, but of people who have been through traumas that they start to shut down eventually, gradually, until they're not themselves anymore. I'm afraid of that happening to me.

I'm just making it worse by not doing anything about it. I'm getting desperate. I'm not even sure that antipsychotic drugs can help me with that. I need to talk it out with my shrink, but first I need to survive the summer and the autumn and possibly the winter as well. Yeesh, things are going so damn slow and I'm falling so fast.

I really hoped I could meet them in Huddinge and fill out the papers for Rättsliga Rådet already this summer, but of course they're all on leave/vacation. I really hoped I could get my gender reassigned before the autumn, but no. And then things will take even longer after that. I have don't have all the time in the world, okay? Don't think they realise that, cause I won't tell them why. Just hurry the fuck up you fuckers, I don't wanna be stuck like this forever.

Interpret this

Heatstroke. I get heatstroke from the inside. Do you know what that is like? It feels like I'm on fire, but I'm not. I ate too much yesterday, so I have to go to the gym and work out a little extra with the cardio exercise. Just want to work off bad conscience and guilt. I buy fitness magazines and try to get some advice. Don't know if it's any good advice though. And I know I'm doing it wrong by starving and exercising at the same time. But I do it to lose weight fast.

They say you shouldn't starve because you'll gain the weight again when you go back to eating normally again. Bwah, they are so generalising! I won't go back to eating "normally" since I don't want to and I never have. Even if I would I wouldn't do it over night, but slowly eat more and more, careful as fuck not to gain the weight again. I will never allow myself to get that fat again. Ever.

I wonder what it's gonna look like when my nipples fall off. Whenever that will be. The part of the scar I can see around them is about the same colour my nipples were in before the surgery. They will of course become paler with time, the scars, so maybe I'll tattoo there or something. I don't know. Gonna meet my surgeon again sometime in the summer, so I'll see what's the verdict.

Ugh, I have this feeling that someone's watching me right now, since I got back home from my family's place. Not with video cameras, but sort of magically, or astral somehow. It's weird. Anna says I'm just crazy and that only schizo's believe that stuff. It's a nice interpretation coming from an imaginary person...

I've had a few rough days with mild symptoms. I've seen messages directed to me (from car registration plates, street signs and in magazines), felt watched and that people are reading my thoughts. Shadows in the corner of my eye, something strange in the air, like ghosts or something. No voices other than Anna's and no real hallucinations though. I've been balancing on the edge between sanity and insanity again.

Oh, by the way. Sex change happening in the autumn!* Then I will (hopefully) be reassigned to legally male and get my new personal identity number and all that. My dream come true. Get a new ID-card. It's about time, it's broken and all already, even though it has one more year before it expires. Last time I got a new ID-card was right after my name change. Didn't think it would take four more years until I had to get a new one again... kinda hoped it would be sooner.

Don't know how I could have forgotten that was said during my meeting in Huddinge before. I've been thinking so much about K that I hardly think of or remember anything else. My mind is a mystery...



*I know I shouldn't use the words "sex change" because my gender has always been male, even though I was assigned female at birth, it's just that I find it simple to say.

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...

Dysphoria

I'm making tail space when I sit on chairs, I've noticed lately. You know, leaving a gap between my lower back and the back support. So I put on my fake (obviously) tail just to prove my point, and sure as hell, that's exactly what that gap was for.

Phantom limbs doesn't have to be missing human body parts, though I doubt I will walk around in public with a fake tail made from silk-like fabric and pillow filling material like some sort of prosthesis. I know some otherkin do, but I don't know... maybe it's cute on a teenage girl, but it sure would look a little funny on me. I've thought about it, but then people would stare and have opinions, so I don't think I'll actually do it. Alone at home sometimes, sure, but that's an entirely different matter.

I've been meaning to finish making my horns as well, but I'm stuck on trying to figure out how to fasten them on my head. I can't make authentic wings though, cause they would be about the size of my whole body (each wing) and that is just too much to make and to wear.

I don't mean to say that I'm not human, cause I know that I am. It's more that I so strongly identify with demons, they feel like family on a very deep level. I was one in both of my two past lives (that's as far as I can remember), it lies embedded in my soul. Imbued with it. I don't remember being anything else than a demon. I'm so used to it, and there's so much I miss about it. Maybe it's a delusion, but if it is then I am nothing. Cause I cannot exist if I am built without a foundation. Maybe that too is a delusion, that I think I don't really exist, sometimes. A delusion build on a delusion... interesting. Impossible, likely, possible, probably? How will I ever know?

However the case, I have a dysphoria. Gender and species dysphoria and both are clawing inside me today. Ripping and tearing and screaming, like a wild animal in a cage. I get no rest at all. There's something else too, but I hush it before the words reach my lips, or in this case before my fingers reach the keyboard. I'm afraid, but I can't tell you of what. That fear is both painful and exciting. I guess you might already know what it's about though.

I should go to bed, but I haven't even taken my sleeping pills yet. I slipped them when my mother called to make sure I got my whole cocktail of drugs swallowed down around ten o'clock this evening. Saved them "until later", sort of. Maybe now is later.

Faith in delusions

I haven't been practising much Satanism lately, have I? Yeah, living by it's "virtues" or what to say, but I always have, more or less. I don't even know for sure what it even means to me yet, or what I build my belief on.

There are people who talk to God and hear their lord speak back to them, but I don't know how literally they mean. But if it is literally, and other people don't consider them insane, that it's just their faith... Could that justify the fact that I hear Satan speak to me? Or am I just bonkers?

He still fulfil my wishes, even when he says it might not be possible to do so. He knows I'm so devoted and grateful that my wishes shouldn't go to waste. At least I think so. But the thing is, some times when I hear him speak to me (it sounds a bit like my own thoughts and at the same time not, cause his voice is much different from my own) I can't help but wonder if it's the real Satan. Though he always manages to convince me.

Of what I know about delusions this is a very sticky web I'm in. Cause the exact same thing, that of voices convincing you they are real, occurs. It's tricky because they actually do convince me and I believe they are real. In my heart I believe it, and in most parts of my mind. It's just that my subconscious or some other partially hidden part of my mind tends to wonder some times.

I'm a very rational person, and it does seem a little weird hearing the voice of Satan, right? Cause how can I tell how many screws I've got loose if I can't count? I still haven't told my mother about these extra voices I've been hearing since the summer. Maybe I'm a bit embarrassed, or maybe I just don't wanna hear what I think she would say about them. I wanna keep them to myself, what they say and what they promise me.

So what do I really base my satanic belief system on? Is it a delusion, a book or something so strong inside me I just can't describe it? If I would somehow get confirmation that the voice I hear is entirely a hallucination, would I then question my choice of religion? I honestly don't know. Cause what if I swore my life over to a hallucination? That... would really be quite an inconvenience... talking about letting my illness take control over my life. Whatever it is that I have.

If it's not Schizophrenia I still have hallucinations and deeply embedded delusions that I most often can't tell apart from the reality. Most of them I've had since childhood. That's why they're so deep and complicated. They've had years and years to develop and poison my mind, heart and soul.

The scary thing though, is that there might be more delusions that I live with every day just that I can't tell them apart from reality. Ever.

When I listen to Funker Vogt's song "Schizophrenia" and recognise myself so painfully much in it. Some times I can't even stand to listen to it because of that. Here's an example:

"I'm living in a real nightmare
my two worlds will collide
I don't know who I am

You will never understand
the way they think and act
a schizophrenic person
we treat without respect"



It's not so strange that I choose to flee from reality, but it's not your reality that I want to escape from.

Impossibly possible

I love my paradoxes sometimes. How they overlap and extinct each other. Like red and green just becomes brown, but sometimes brown can become red and green separately. Figuratively. Did you know that once I was told that you can't mix colours to create a primary colour, and that I said fuck that and with purple and green I got red. Not a very clear red, but it was a shade of red. Like a matte scarlet shade. Perhaps that is a fake memory, a delusion (I was ten, how schizo could I have been?) or my magic powers (okay, maybe I was a bit schizo already then...)

Ah, I really don't understand sometimes. Or I just can't explain, those magic powers. How can they be, and how come no one believes me even when it's right in front of their eyes? My hair is supposed to be light/medium brown, unchangeable, but now it's dark brown naturally. Just look at my eyebrows, I haven't dyed them since the summer! And my eyes, they turned green over night. I created a primary colour from two secondary, which is supposed to be impossible.

Maybe that's it. It is impossible. Period. Even if it actually happens, no one will believe it. That's how you humans work, you don't believe in anything unless you are the one experiencing it, no matter what that is. I don't work the way you do, I believe there's a possibility for absolutely everything to exist. I don't need proof, I don't need first hand experiences. Maybe it's not me who is crazy, maybe it's just humans that are too dumb to stop pretending to be blind and deaf.

This is, and has been hard for me. My whole life I have never known what is real or not. What actually happened or not. I think the breaking point between my past life and this, along with bullying and abuse, made me Schizophrenic at a very young age.

I was a very private person as a child, and I hid all of my rather severe mental problems. I was already then, in my soul, old enough to understand that it was not something you talk about. I really went out of my way to hide the fact that I heard voices and practised magic in the living room at home when everyone was asleep. I didn't tell people about my odd experiences, maybe just my parents, but they don't even believe in mental illness. They just see it as we are all different.

I only see the world through my own, rather impaired eyes. What should I compare with? How can I possibly know what reality is? Is it like a boring dream with less time jumps, or more like a hollywood movie with less drama? Or am I fishing again?

I know "regular" people usually don't experience previously mentioned stuff, but what about all the rest? There are too many gaps to fill, too much chaos I cannot define. I mean I don't even know what psychotic means! I've read so much about it, but I still can't understand. I think that is because I'm already in it. A light form of a permanent psychosis. So deeply embedded delusions that more or less have come to define the person that I am today. And that's why it's so difficult, so painful, to look beyond it. Cause what is left? Is there anything left?

I think I've built everything on what actually isn't real. All of my beliefs, my hopes, dreams, goals, wishes, fate, everything. Goddamn hard it is to get off this chair and go to the store today...

I believe in ghosts

I think I'm becoming psychic again. Or more attuned perhaps. I can foretell small things, like with the Spotify queue lists, or things in WoW that are completely randomised (like a roll the dice sort of things). And I know how long time things will take, like a telephone queue that you haven't been told in which order you stand. Also I get these feelings that it's something, rather weird or seemingly pointless, that I "have to" do, and it turns out to have been a very good choice. I don't find it freaky, rather it's thrilling and nice.

One more thing that just "happened". A friend of mine texted me on Facebook and I looked at their profile picture and thought to myself that they should change their profile picture. A couple of hours later they did. Some day I might start seeing ghosts as well, but if I do it's probably time to check myself into an mental hospital. Or try to communicate with them. Lots of Schizophrenics claim to be interacting with ghosts, or spirits...

The way it is

I realise that the way I sit, considered masculine or feminine, has more to do with my state of mind at the moment than just what is most comfortable. Some days I feel more together and safe, and then I spread out in more relaxed poses. Other days I feel more broken and in distress, and then I sit more curled up. Like I have to hold myself together so that my body parts won't fall off. Another delusion, perhaps? Cause I really believe that could happen. Though I don't know whether that is a weird belief or not.

Maybe that is saying a lot about my androgyny as well, and non conformity to society. Like, the way I sit, stand, talk, act, behave or whatever says more "fuck it, I do what the fuck I want no matter what you think about it". Cause honestly, does it really have to matter that much?

But of course there is some ambivalence in that as well, as with most things about me. Cause at the same time I'm terribly nervous and worried about being read wrong. Especially if I'm not dressed up, but even then I'm uncertain. Mostly about the way I walk, and the way my ass look. By mentioning that, I might attract the attention that way, but don't matter.

One of the most best things about living here on Gotland is that no one here knows about my background. Except for my doctors and shrinks, family members, my uncle and his girlfriend who sometimes visit, that is. So I have become a lot more stealth than I appear to be here on my blog. Because it's different, you know. How open I am online and in real life outside the internet world.

That is what I go with. IRL I'm stealth, haven't told anyone on this entire island. Though I've been close a few times, but then came to my senses and reasoned: why do they have to know, are we gonna have sex? No, I don't think so.

So people can think that I'm weird and totally aloof, hard to peg or whatever. But then I firmly tell them I'm a guy, without a doubt, and that's all they have to know. The rest is just none of their business however curious or open minded they might be. I'm my own kinda guy.

Liars

How pathological liars work:
They will tell you small bits of truth embellished with tall tales. Everything is exaggerated. These types of liars do not need a reason to lie. They do not need a reward in any sense of the word. They just lie like other people breathe air.

Pathological liars do know they are lying most of the time. If you caught them in a lie they would feel no need to apologize. They might tell another lie to cover up or validate the first lie, not caring that you both don't believe it. They are not embarrassed to be caught in lies either. They have the ability to look you in the eye and begin weaving even more fantastic webs.

I found this on http://hubpages.com/hub/am-i-a-pathological-liar-take-the-quiz and it must be the most accurate thing ever. Though I'm not always aware of that I'm lying, cause I'm sometimes lying to myself as well. And I believe in those lies.

I once had a friend who I believe was a pathological liar, though I couldn't stand that person's stories and behaviour for very long so I broke off that friendship. The only friendship I've ever broken off. Though I don't know how much of a friend I was, I mostly only hung out with them out of pity. Out of pity. Because no one else could stand even being in the same room with them, I felt sorry for that person.

At first I just thought: wow, what an interesting life this person has had! but then things started to seem a bit fishy. One story didn't fit with another, some stories where just too strange to be true. When I started to get suspicious I was left with two choices: tell them the truth that I didn't believe one word that came out of their mouth and leave instantly - or become a fucking liar myself and keep staying with them, pretending to be amazed and dazzled by their incredibly embellished stories. I picked the later.

But did I become an every day liar because of that person? No... or I don't know. How can I know? One thing is for sure though: I can't tell my mother about this. I know it's just fuel for the fire keeping another secret, but if I do tell her, she'd never believe anything I say again. Though I think she knows. Cause she's been suspecting my real intentions behind my lame excuses since I became a teenager. Like every damn time I say either "I'm tired" or "I forgot" I see that highly sceptic look on her face. Cause those phrases are lies approximately 95% of the time. Lies entwined with truth.

And how would you who are reading this know what is truth or not in this text? I happen to lie quite a lot in my blog, if you didn't know. But all of it stems from truth, my truth. It's basically truth with little lies here and there, rather than the opposite. Of course it's common to do that, but all the time? I think not.

By the way, this is NOT a diagnosis of any kind. It's merely an observation, a thought or an idea. I don't go so deep into this topic (yes, this is me just scratching the surface).



Soundtrack: Emilie Autumn - Liar

Yet another theory

Coldness. It can really set loose almost any emotion known to man inside me. Fear, hopelessness, eagerness, hatred, comfort, and right now it's pissing me off. Like: get the fuck warm or I'll do something I'll regret! I realise I'm actually talking to myself sometimes, and not only to Anna. Yes, this is an actual realisation. Maybe I've done that all the time but just didn't realise it until now, but it could be baby steps in trying to think for my own a little. Whatever that could be good for.

She is my emotional support and has been for as long as I can remember, or well, before I couldn't handle my thoughts at all, so in a way it was good that she came along. I've never really doubted that it was good she showed up in the first place, I was a terrible mess by that time. But I do think it might have been good if she had left before she became the problem. My post traumatic stress disorder is only masked by her existence.

I found out, a few months ago, that there is a kind of PTSD that causes dissociation and that is one of my many theories about Anna that in some view could be possible. About an imaginary person showing up right after a trauma, as a type of defence mechanism, and it's closely related to dissociative identity disorder. I'm definitely still fucked up over what happened all those years ago, so dissociation or not, PTSD is more than likely.

But a part of me still believes this is an exceptional thing that is a bit out of the ordinary, and can't really fit into just one particular diagnose. A dissociation wouldn't be permanent, as extended, deeply embed and developed as this. While at the same time a hallucination or a delusion wouldn't be so alike my own thoughts, permanent and constant. Cause I'm absolutely certain this is permanent, we will never become one again. It's like a fictional movie thing about split personality with the vast exception that we coexist as two different people. That is where DID doesn't fit in either. This is a mystery that I just can't let go of, okay?

I think maybe listening to Emilie Autumn sparked my thoughts this time, and reading a bit about her on Wikipedia. Thinking that maybe I should buy her book, cause apparently she wrote one, and it seems it could be interesting.

It's in my blood

I dreamt that I had bleached my whole hair, but I didn't understand why, but then I realised that I wanted to become blonde. I was on a trip with my two friends and one one them got furious over me accidentally breaking something of his, and then we had somewhat of a war where he destroyed my things, one at a time, saying that he was only getting even with me.

I don't know if this is a delusion, but I think that when I'm letting myself bleed, I let out more than just my blood. This anxiety, this illness or condition or whatever it is. I think that it's in my blood. Like a hereditary/congenital disease or a virus. And by letting some of it out, I also temporarily free myself from what runs in it. When I feel faint right afterwards, I know that I've succeeded to let out some of it. Again, this could be interpreted as a figure of speech, but I do mean literally. That tapping it out is almost kinda like some sort of cleansing. Perhaps this isn't so weird at all, this idea. But it sounds like something in the lines of psychotic thinking. It's hard to tell from where I stand.

But a belief must be like any other belief, right? I mean, say if I believe in ghosts, then I can categorize that belief as something occult, right? So why shouldn't I be able to know if my beliefs like this one with my blood is psychotic? Theoretically, that should be possible to distinguish. But it's hard. It's hard as hell. Cause no matter how self aware I am, trying to figure out which of my beliefs are normal, unusual or psychotic can be damn frigging hard at times.

Wake up, your world is just an illusion

What started me off with these thoughts on Schizophrenia, was of course Anna. She was the problem, my enemy, my nightmare. I so desperately wanted to find an answer, so that maybe I could get rid of her, before I ended up killing myself in an attempt to kill her, or to "simply" separate us. But I don't have that reason any more. Sure I wanna know who the fuck she is and all that, but it's not because I wanna get rid of her in some way. She has been a nightmare for a lot of the time since we were... I don't know, eleven years old? Something like that. But after every nightmare we have always found a way back to each other, a way to tolerate our situation and even be friends.

Much more lately, as she's been taking my part in this roller coaster this spring, summer and autumn. She's definitely a cold hearted bitch; but she's also right, wonderfully sarcastic and truly supportive. Perhaps she's finally realised that I'm the only one she's got, and "gotten over" her own depression. Now she fights beside me, and my battle has become ours, and we fight on the same side. Perhaps the sad part about it, is that what brought us to this point was when Vargyl showed up. And more precisely, when he started to turn against me.

But it wasn't until that bus-trip from Arlanda that I really understood her true agenda. When she had with both Vargyl and Satan been arguing and commenting and mentally torturing me for about two hours, suddenly helped me "snap out of it" with kindness. True, selfless, caring kindness. Now that doesn't come easily from her!

And to be honest I'm not sure if she even would fit in as a valid symptom of Schizophrenia. I'm starting to realise you have to be quite conversant in that and various other disorders to be able to even have a slightest clue of what a Schizophrenic hallucination is compared to a dissociation, a delusion, a depersonalization or whatever other kinds of defence mechanisms that I haven't yet dwelt into.

So what I'm trying to say is that I don't primarily base this Schizophrenia thing on Anna, but because of everything else. So if I should count her out, how far back in time can I go to find a point where I can say "that is when I lost my mind"? To be honest, I've never had such a good grip on reality to begin with. So the only answers I can provide is either very early onset Schizophrenia (hello, nine?!), or various mental illnesses leading up to Schizophrenia. Such as Asperger, PTSD, OCD, dissociation, transsexualism (it itself has nothing to to with this, but it can put some restrain on you, especially if you weren't right in your mind to begin with) and depression.

And since everything started so early, it's not completely out of the question to think that I have learned to live with it, and there for function considerably well. For I have never known anything else, and it didn't hit me all at once.

The thing is, I realise, I can't cut Anna out. Just imagining, or rather trying to imagine my whole life without her in my past just isn't possible. Everywhere I've been, she's been. Every thought I've thought, she's answered.

Another meaningless post that led me nowhere. It feels like I'm so clouded by all these mental problems blending in together in an indistinguishable fucking mess, and where the hell did I fit into it? I've never been human simply because I've never been sane. I was born into a mental disorder. What was just normal kids' behaviour like imaginary friends, a fantasy land, shyness, clumsiness. Weighted by a bullying too rough for anyone to endure, I never "out grew" my childhood beliefs. Still have the same imaginary friends, still believe in my fantasy land.

So my only question is this really: when does childhood fantasies become a mental disorder? That would be when I got sick.

I never really lived in the real world. I've always clung to the beautiful memories of a past life, talked to people in my head and tried to convince people that I actually can perform real magic. Though I'm not completely gone in my madness, I still have one foot in this reality, or so it appears, how the hell should I know? I mean I do have friends, somewhere there across the ocean, and when I do (or did) see them I am/was still able to have fun, talk about ordinary stuff and dance to a beautiful song by The Cure at a night club. So I'm not completely lost, I know that, but I'm not really there either, am I?

This madness will eat me alive

The song "This maniac's in love with you" by Alice Cooper just popped up on the playlist, and wow that song speaks to me now! "My heart has been strapped in a straight jacket love..." I suppose it needs no explanation. Sometimes those songs I've been listening to for years suddenly get a new meaning to them.

Gosh, I can't even focus on writing a few sentences. What's up with me today? These days I mean, or these weeks, no these months... alright, I get it. I've slowly been losing my mind for months. Been getting worse than before lately. "It takes all I got to survive, this madness will eat me alive." Maybe I should let Alice Cooper speak for me instead?

Yeah, so things have been getting worse. First off, increased mood swings. Then self harm/destruction got out of control. Alcoholism, starvation, sleep deprivation and what not. Then more psychotic stuff emerged, experienced a few delusions, started hearing more voices than just Anna's and had what I believe was a full blown psychosis. Then followed lovesickness and hypnophobia. I started to sum these things up with my past and made the self diagnosis Schizophrenia which I think is the most accurate self diagnosis I've made.

And now I'm just living all the symptoms of it, in various degrees. Like incoherent thoughts, weird delusions and not knowing if things are real or not. Oh, and telling all the voices to shut the fuck up. Still telling myself it might be something else than Schizophrenia, but I suppose it's just or mostly because I don't want that.

I'd rather have something else that is actually fixable. Something that isn't quite that horrible and condemning and will last for the rest of my life. And the only treatment is medication that makes me a zombie. Hoping that I can come up with a more pleasant self diagnosis, but I doubt that I will.

I'm having tactile hallucinations lately, and they're very annoying. Yesterday I felt the floor was shaking, like someone stomped around in my apartment, but when I looked around obviously no one was there. I'm losing sensation in various body parts as well, which is kinda creepy. Though only for a while and then it comes back. There's this spot on my back, one on my right thigh and one on my left arm. It doesn't tingle or anything, just completely numb, as if it was frozen but it's warm. Very strange.

I just hate it how Schizophrenia fits so perfectly. Cause if Borderline really was the right diagnosis then I wouldn't have gotten worse from the treatment for it, for symptoms that I don't have.

Incoherent thoughts

How can I finish anything I ever start? Every little or big project I start goes very fast in the beginning and I just love doing it ...until I lose all inspiration and creativity, just like that. I can't concentrate, I can't even concentrate on this passage of text I'm writing right now. It feels like I have a lot on my mind but yet no clear thoughts come to me. I'm sifting through my love's every picture on Dayviews, but I don't know what I'm looking for. My comments perhaps, or I just wanna see how he's changed over the years.

What else is on my mind? Caffeine and sleep, I think. As I said, I can't snap up any clear thoughts, it's all just a vague murmur. It reminds me, in the shower before going to bed yesterday, I said out loud "You know you're schizophrenic when even your voices have disorganised speech". It holds some significance, but I'm not trying to talk myself into believe I'm schizophrenic, and I'm not intentionally parading it either, it was just something that came to mind when I realised that I and Anna often start conversations like in the middle of a sentence and then I ask her (or the other way around for that matter) what hell she's talking about.

That happens quite a lot, several times a day, multiple times a day, maybe 20 or something. I don't know. So yeah, I have very disorganised, incoherent thoughts that just seem to pop up from nowhere. I think they are someone else's thoughts that I snap up from the air or something. Like radio waves.

I'm not saying that I can read other people's minds, cause I can't. It's just that maybe some of our thoughts can be transported, detach and end up in someone else's head. Like radio waves. No, I'm not gonna wear a helmet of tin foil to protect myself from these thoughts, simply because it's nothing I need to protect myself from. But now I suddenly understand why some schizophrenics do that, put tin foil on their heads. It makes perfect sense! How delusional am I now again? I mean one must be a little bonkers to suddenly think that severely mentally ill people actually are having great ideas in dealing with mystical forces that I also believe in. Like some sort of shared delusion or something.

They're just random, jumbled up words and sentences with no reason or rhyme. Like: "I should get promoted because of how my kitchen looks. Maybe there could be a way to change that." to which Anna replies "What the fuck are you talking about?" and I just say "I have no idea".

I've lost my train of thought again. Well then, that'll have to be all for now.

Messages

I’m a bit slow sometimes, but I just figured out why I don't like watching tv. It's because it gives me messages, especially if I watch the news. You know, messages directed to me alone. I feel like the news reporter is talking to me, about me. As an example: if he or she says “The war in Afghanistan will continue ” I know that what they really mean is that "The war in your head will continue". It's stressful, and I’d rather avoid all that stuff. Perhaps it's crazy talk, but I just know it's real. That they have somehow been told to give me these messages, but they have to make it subtle so that others who watch those news won't suspect anything. In my world that is logical, but there is a part me seeing the absurdity behind it. Which ever way, I don't like watching tv.

Believe

I realise I don't really quite tell people up front about how I consider myself a Satanist or the real reason behind it. Especially not curious strangers, but I suppose my faith is a bit, erhm... unconventional even among friends, and I’d definitely not be honest about it to my family. I only told them the basic guidelines of LaVeyan Satanism, which isn't even the kind I’m following. I suppose I didn't even wanna tell them to begin with, it just slipped out of me and I had to think fast. But even now I don't want to tell them the truth.

I’m not ashamed or anything, it's just that I feel uncomfortable explaining and defending myself for something that is to me highly personal. This is exactly the reason people frown upon modern, newly converted Satanists. Especially the ones who wears black and listens to non-stereotypical music. Because it's something people just can't understand, so what's the point in trying to explain?

If my family knew it would only further increase their idea of me being a complete looney. Sooner or later I probably will drop the “S-word” (schizophrenia), as an indicator that I know I’m not completely sane but also that I don't always know what is real or imaginary in the world as I perceive it. That I have doubts about things they assure me are real, and strongly believe in things they assure me are figments of my imagination. What this could have to do with my faith I don't know. Perhaps that I on some level might think that my perception of Satan might be false due to hallucinations or even a delusion. That I’m aware of the fact that everything I say or do could be my messed up brain making up stories, but it isn't my intention cause to me it is as real as the grass is green in the summer.

Though I’m sure my family knows that already, but do they know that I know that? Would I invalidate not only myself but my true beliefs, by mentioning that I think I have Schizophrenia with a reasonable cause, while at the same time expressing my extreme devil worship? Would I create a link between the two by doing so, or does it even matter what I tell them? I’ve lost all my hopes or thoughts that I could look my mother in her eyes and tell her my truth and know that she would believe me. It's not that I don't trust her, cause I do, it's just that I’ve stopped believing in her. Because it feels like she stopped believing in me.

So what is the point of ever telling her anything that is important to me? Cause nothing I say seems to be important to her. All she says nowadays is “sure, sure, if you believe that...” and when we discuss things, or rather argue, all she does is trying to prove me wrong. I’ve become distant to her lately, and it almost kinda feels like I’ve lost a friend. Now she's just a mother to me, and I know it might sound horrible, but that is not enough. I have no one else on this island, and she's always been more than just a mother to me.

I will talk to her about this, as soon as I find the words, cause I need for her to listen to me. Not just hear my words, but listening and focusing. We know each other so well, so what is this sudden gap between us? Sometimes I’ve thought of just saying: “You think that I’m crazy. That every single thing I believe in is a figment of my imagination. You've given up on me, that I’d ever become anything or succeed in life. You don't appreciate my creativity: the only thing that keeps me alive. It feels like everything I say just goes right through you and you don't even listen to me anymore. I still trust you and I know you want me no harm either, but when did you stop believing in me?”

Afraid to sleep

I'm starting to wonder if I might have developed some sort of hypnophobia, or somniphobia. It's not that I can't fall asleep, it's something else... I deliberately keep myself awake, though I don't really want to, I drink insane amounts of caffeine, and I slip my sleeping meds. I'm afraid of sleeping, and of falling asleep. It's hard to say why, but mostly I think it's because of the loss of control cause I can't control how long I’m gonna be asleep for. I don't just hate it when I sleep for 24 hours straight, it feels I’m being trapped. That I can't get up no matter what I do. Also nightmares and night terrors aren't so cozy looking forward to... Yeah, I just keep finding new depths of everything. I had this back in June as well, but it got sorted out at the psych-ward when they pumped me full of sleeping meds. Apparently the problem wasn't completely solved. But did my lovesickness trigger this hypnophobia or are they entirely unrelated?

How will I get a better sleeping pattern if I won't even take my sedatives? I'm frigging sitting here with a horrible stomachache, slight nausea, headache and I’m so fucking exhausted but keep gulping energy drinks and watching horror movies to keep myself awake. For some reason this has taken the upper hand now, and it's causing a distress I haven't been able to put my finger on until now. It's got it's own little file in my mind somehow. Jeez... I don't know what to do with this! If I get admitted again the same thing will happen again: they'll stuff me full with pills and force me to bed at night for a week or so, and they I’ll get back to this. Cause they can't medicate my fear away. Wonder if Adelina is still there, by the way?

No, not the time to think about girls. Or any other wonderful people I’m a nobody to. Or anyone else for that matter. Fuck, I’m over her anyway, barely even knew her. I’ve only got eyes for one person and he's not here. And maybe I should just get admitted again? I’m not suicidal but I think I could qualify for a few days rest there or something. It's not like they even provide suicide watch there. Stupid morons. Wonder how many completed suicides happened there! It was like they took for granted you would surrender yourself blindly to their care by coming there as suicidal. Hello? Did anyone there have a medical education?! Suicidal people can't think straight, they're blinding themselves with massive feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness and all the other lessnesses! That's why you go there, cause you need someone else to save you from yourself!

Okay, enough about that. I’m not suicidal, I just forgot how to survive. They say the summer is over now, but mine isn't. If I keep saying this is an awful summer, can't the autumn just wait until I get a little better? So that I won't have to say it's been awful summer and autumn? Cause that is too long, two seasons awfulness is just too damn much.

Hallucinations getting worse

I've passed 40 hours now and it feels like something's crawling inside me. I should be prepared for more hallucinations the longer I'm awake, but it's just that I never know what to expect. I’m extra sensitive and the world seems so fragile. The seams between this world and the others are coming apart, like a rift between dimensions. It reminds me of the welsh/british tv-show “Torchwood” when they discovered time rifts, like wounds in this reality opening doors to the past and the future, letting people from the medieval into our present time and people living in present time being sucked into the past or the future.

Such is my reality, but not related to time, just different places, or rather different versions of the same places. If I sit in my apartment and the reality as I know it comes apart, I don't go to another world, I go to a twisted and distorted version of my own apartment. Walls changing colour, bugs which shouldn't be there suddenly appearing from nowhere, pictures distorting and their faces change into other people, dead, decaying or even moving. Hollow eyes, screaming teeth less mouths, grey peeling skin. Lights flickering, shadows flapping. Or everything just becomes fake, like a theater scenery, a stage play. Like it was made for someone else and I ended up in the wrong universe.

My delusions and hallucinations aren't that harmless and cute anymore. There are no horses dancing in my tea, sparkling flowers or caramel tasting cigarettes. Now there are insects, shadows and distorted faces; decay, mold and everything I fear. The darkness within me that I fear colours my unreality, for I didn't fear it before, didn't even know about it. It changes my dreams into nightmares, my vague memories into traumas, my weirdness into insanity. My nightmares are coming true. I may not believe in what I see, but it doesn't change the fact that it scares the hell out of me.

I’m scared that if I look into the mirror I will see a decaying monster in my reflection, that the pictures of my love will distort and show me an entirely different person, that the crawling feeling in my body will show itself as bugs crawling out of my skin, that the next time I feel worms in my eye I will try to dig them out and end up blinding myself, that I will cut myself and see that I have no blood in my body and keep cutting until I bleed again. These aren't irrational fears, I have experienced all of this but in a smaller scale that I’ve been able to handle. Perhaps I will keep being able to handle it, but what if I don't?

Most of all I’m not scared of this, but the consequences if it would lead me to a full blown psychosis and everyone at the psychiatric department would have know about it. But for how long will I be able to keep it a secret? For how long if I'm already getting scared of my hallucinations, instead of just fascinated or annoyed by them?

I’m not just seeing shadows in the corner of my eye, there are real, vivid vision hallucinations. I don't just telepathise with Anna, I talk out loud to various voices in public and I don't even know how many there are of them. At least six of them altogether, but there could be more. How can I tell for sure it isn't real? It feels so very real.

At least I feel safe around Anna, but the other voices can be a little tricky at times. I’ve been threatened, told that I’m gonna die and felt haunted. I never thought me and Anna would become best friends again, but I’m clinging to her, seeking her comfort and sometimes I even think she is the only one I’ve really got. It's not true of course, but in the middle of the night, scared of my fucked up mind's twisted games, she really is the only one I have. And she's not real either. But I’ve known her since childhood, we've been through everything together, I know her and I know when I can trust her and not. And she's always by my side, for better or worse.

Everything is so screwed up and intense I don't know up from down. If this gets any worse I’ll just have to suck it up and start confessing. If I’m not alive for my sex change then how the hell would it be worth it?

I’m still fooling myself that I’m “fine”. I’m not bloody fine! I drink 2 liters of coffee a day, smoke 3 packs of cigarettes and cut my arms as deep as I dare fifteen times a day, I can't sleep and I can't eat. Is that my definition of fine!? Yeah, I’m the picture of health. I won't ever be fit enough for that surgery unless I do something about this first.

They were right all along to rule out psychosis before getting me treatment for my transsexualism. I just had different priorities. I still do, but this is getting out of my hands. I’ll give it a week or two, and then we'll see if I end up in all of three psychiatric departments in Visby: neuro psychiatric, personality disorders and psychosis. Fuck it, fuck my fucking life.