Why I don't care anymore

Love isn't supposed to come easy, especially not when you fall in love with a broken person. You've gotta be careful not to hurt them, to not cause them more pain and confusion cause you're a clumsy idiot who doesn't know at all how to handle other people and delicate situations.

Ugh, love makes me feel sick. But I don't wish I didn't love him, he needs that love, and I need it just to have a reason to stay alive. But it's killing me. It's been slowly killing me for 18 months even though I have gotten used to it by now. I can't even imagine not being in love with him.

It's become such a huge part of who I am now. I have become external reasons. Love, mental instability and headaches. That's what I am, that's what's left of me. No actual personality, just those three components in various doses throughout the day. I wouldn't exist without those three, I would be an empty shell.

I don't know who I am anymore, cause there's nothing left of me to be. I've been consumed, erased, replaced. Now tumblr posts, cigarettes and self destruction shape me throughout the day. I don't know any other way to live. Now I just exist and breathe automatically.

Am I sad? I don't know the answer to that question, but I know that I'm not happy. And I know that I never will be. And for the moment, I'm fine with that. I don't care. I don't think life was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be a lesson. Something you learn and grow from. And now I know that I can probably survive just about anything.

Is that dangerous? I don't think I'm invincible, hardly, I really don't think I am that anymore. But I know that I can endure a lot. Probably most people can, they just don't think that they can, cause they've never been so close to the edge as I have. And for so many times.

I've learned a lot during 2013 and 2014, that I'm much stronger than I ever thought before. But I don't smile about that, cause I know what that means. It means that more shit will come and keep coming and I will learn new tactics in basic survival that will sooner or later ironically be the ones to kill me before the shit does. Cause my survival tactics are far more dangerous than what I feel threatened by.

I'm not even sure what it is that I feel threatened by. Vague and mysterious feelings and thoughts, mostly. It's all inside my head. Although there have been a few, easily counted, external things that have threatened me in my life up until today, most of it has been and is internal.

There's been some bullying, eviction, sexual assault, money problems. A few things like that but most of it, probably above 99% of everything, can probably be lumped up into the single, vary vague and complicated word: anxiety.

Everything causes anxiety but I don't even know what that word means. I don't even know if it's the right word for it. It's anxiety that is my biggest enemy and I fight it with every weapon that I have, ultimately leading me to nothing but self destruction. I'm destroying myself and my own life, so no matter how or when I die, I believe it will be my my fault either way. Cause I took myself there.

There is no end to self destruction. Maybe the cycle technically can be broken, but I don't believe in the possibility. I don't think I'll ever be ready to even give it a try. I've given up on ever living a decent life. Not because I want to die, but because recovering is too damn hard, requires too much work and I don't care anymore.

I've never known any other way of life. I only still go to see my shrink and other doctors for emotional support, pills to keep me above the surface, someone's figurative hand to hold while I walk through the fire that is my life while I continue to deteriorate.

I don't wish to find other tactics than self destruction, I don't wish to find any better methods, and I certainly don't want to learn how to deal with anxiety without fighting it. I know that now but somehow I've always known it. I wouldn't know who I am without the anxiety, it's such a big part of me. I'm like 90% anxiety and I would even go as far as to say that it scares me to know what I would be without it.

Cause maybe I would be terribly bored and boring? A simple human being without character? I'd rather be a mess than that. Sometimes I even think that I want to be a mess, that I like who I am with the mess included. Of course though, it frustrates me a lot from time to time how incredibly disabled I am thanks to it. There's so much that I can never do. I can't travel how I please, I can't afford anything worthwhile, I'm technically trapped in this apartment with very limited moving abilities.

It's like I'm in an invisible, mental wheelchair. I can walk, take the bus or even jump on a plane if I want to. But it takes a lot of planning, money I personally don't have, and a lot of effort. I don't function very well in any social settings, and you could almost say that my disability is anxiety. It's simple, cause it explains everything and not a daft at the same time. Disabled by anxiety? Yes... it can have quite some crippling effects on you in the long run.

But of course that wouldn't suffice for a full answer. I've got my headaches too, I've got a whole range of mental problems that I don't care to list right now. And I believe that is why I've given up on trying to get better, because all it does is getting worse and more complicated. In new ways that I didn't expect before. And I've become quite laid back about it now. I won't say this out too loud, in case it comes up and bites me in the ass, but I don't think that anything can surprise me anymore.

When there's no escape

Let's talk about pain. It does things to you. It makes you do things you didn't think you'd ever do. As a kid I never wanted to drink or do drugs, I swore I'd never do that. I never got desperate enough to take a whole bottle of pills or get so drunk I couldn't stand on my own feet cause I couldn't deal with my headache. Because I wanted to escape.

I remember the first few months after it got chronic. I was sixteen and just wanted to lead a normal life, go to school and meet new friends. Become something, have a job that I didn't hate. Of course I still wanted to be different, that's not what I mean. It was so hard to come to terms with it and accept it. It took almost a year before I gave up on trying to understand and cure it.

Now when I take something, recommended dosage of painkillers or something more of a dangerous amount, I just try to get rid of the worst of it. It never works anymore. Not even morphine and I think it's because it isn't physical anymore. There's this thing with our brains, it remembers pain and can make you experience it even if you aren't actually in pain anymore. It's hard to explain, cause I don't fully understand it.

There is no cure, there is nothing I can do. Most days I accept it, try to work around it somehow, anyhow. Find my limits, when to stop or slow down. I can't even go to School anymore. It is that disabling, cause after one or two School days in a row it becomes so strong I have to go home and rest for a week. Aside from the other mental problems that hits the roof at about that time or even sooner. With slight social anxiety, dysphoria, psychotic symptoms and a splitting headache you just don't work in society.

It makes me nuts sometimes, all of that, but I can handle most of it, with rest and time, but not the headache. Psychotic episodes eventually fade, dysphoria goes down when I'm back at home again, social anxiety goes away when I'm away from social situations. But the headache never goes away. Ever. It doesn't matter how much I rest or whatever I do or don't do.

I wish there was something that could be done about it. My ideas have been everything from crazy to stupid. Like when I want to literally be beheaded or when I cut myself only to ease the headache. Sometimes it works a bit, the latter that is, which is kinda sad.

Right now I'm worried I'd get a fever. Cause if I do it's likely an infection and I have to go to the emergency ward. Don't want to spend my Easter that way.

Anna says: Don't be afraid of your own body.
I respond: There's nothing I am more afraid of.

What's in my power

I think maybe it's a bit warmer today, cause I went outside wearing my leather coat with only a fish net shirt underneath on my upper body and it wasn't that cold at all. Well, it wasn't that warm and cosy either, but still. Just did it to take some photos. Needed some nice ones with my new haircut. Now everything smells like hairspray though... and I need to get some nice wax for my hair.

Think I'm gonna take the bandage off my horizontal scars soon, cause the wounds have closed up by now. So no need, I mean. I feel so damn restless today. like I wanna run around and exercise and stuff. It's like I actually want to go to the gym, not just thinking I need to. Spring, it does things to you.

Need to heal up for at least another month, possibly even two. I know of other transguys who started working out just a few weeks after their top surgery, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. The nice weather isn't helping.

My hands are shaking for no reason. It's annoying, almost dropping my cigarette in my lap. That's frigging dangerous. And I like my new pants. They're a little too short, but I've completely moved in to them. Black, tight, comfortable, and I look good in them. Well, as good as I can, that is. My major dysphoria is my ass and thighs now. My weight is still a problem, but I'd rather gain muscles now. Priorities. And I'm not fat, not even close, no matter how fat I think I am.

Though I know that I pass very well now, especially with the short hair and all, but I'm always a bit afraid that people would question my gender if they paid too much attention to my body. And I really want to work that ass off, kinda literally. Though I suppose I could do that, carefully, as long as I don't restrain my upper body too much in the process.

But the yeah, bulking up my upper body would be a compensation of sorts. Been on testosterone long enough for it to be fairly easy for me to gain muscles now, so that will hopefully not be a problem, as long as I'm patient enough.

Patience. Now that has started to become a problem as of lately. It's like I've been waiting and waiting and given things so much time it feels like I'm gonna grow grey hair at an early age. It's like all I have is time and I have nothing else to give and I'm getting tired of that. I wish I had some effort to give, or some sort of inner power. Cause I can't help but feeling powerless.

I'm betting with Anna now, which is perhaps kinda weird. About me getting a low level character in WoW to level 10 before I get tired of him. She's betting that I won't, and if she's right I'm gonna go and eat breakfast. If I'm right, I can starve a little longer. Cause we can't really bet on money or anything substantial like that. Took some time to figure something out that can actually be paid in reality. I bet you're all on her side on this, am I right?

Where it hurts

Went a day without painkillers. Shouldn't have done that. Yesterday, right before bed it hurt so much I could just barely fall asleep (pain makes me tired so eventually I did fall asleep). And as I woke up this morning, around 9:30, I had trouble just getting dressed and move my ass to my computer. May I say instant gratification as soon as that OxyNorm I took kicked in?

It helps reducing my headache as well, at least the part of it that is not imaginary. However much of it that is "real" I do not know though. Psychosomatic stuff is always kinda complicated. But damn sweet it is when the pain in my chest slowly fades and I can breathe without it hurting. Cause I use my chest muscles more than my stomach muscles when I breathe, so yeah, it literally hurts to breathe nowadays after the surgery.

Pain. It has become a huge part of my life and the only way I know how to deal with it is to inflict more pain. That, or stuffing myself full of strong opiates that still just make me more high than pain free. I cannot cure my headache, and after ten years of carrying it with me every day, I've come to accept that I just have to find ways to live with it.

I've kept my circadian rhythm since I got back from the hospital by the way, except for one or two days when I slept until afternoon. The time before noon is always the hardest. I like playing WoW when there aren't that many players online, and I like the soft sunlight making my apartment brighter without strong beams of light shining through the window blinding me.

But I hate that I get so nauseous, and sometimes I like or dislike that I feel so empty. Before existing becomes hard with all the thoughts and feelings invading my mind and body as the day progresses. I like forenoons, but they are the worst part of the day.

Wake up, society!

I started writing about something else when I came up with this text, so if the beginning here looks a little weird, that is probably why. I'm not even trying to make this text simple and easy to read, you just have to try to tag along with my fairly complicated and just a tad bit too long sentences. You should appreciate it that I for once write from my heart.

I can recite my whole life from my first memory when I was two years old the very first summer I had when me and my parents moved to Alunda in 1991, up until this day. Cause I did, you know, in my autobiography, and it's all there. Or almost all of it, it's not quite finished yet.

The one book I will leave behind me the day I die. Yes, that is my plan. To write it, polish it and finish it, print it out, but leave it here on my desk safe and sound, until that day comes. Cause I will reveal way too much that I don't want anyone to know until I'm not around here anymore. It will also be my final say, my suicide note.

Not to be like that, but that book would most likely make me kinda famous, if I'd be alive to see it or if it get published after my death, or published at all that is. It will be one of a kind, I can assure you. The life of a young man who lived for a whole lifetime and experienced so much, but still somehow managed it. It's tragic, cause I really wanted that book to inspire people who also have a shitty life, a message to them that you can get through life even though you are miserable and have all the reasons to "justify" a suicide. It's tragic, because at the end of the book, I will actually have died from suicide.

I don't want to be famous, you know, at least not for all those stupid reasons today's youth seek fame. But if I would want to to become famous, it would be for that I inspire people to cherish life, seek wisdom and don't give a damn fuck what other people think you should do with your life. To inspire people to not give up on their seemingly impossible dreams even when your loved ones tell you to get real and grow up cause you're supposed to be a "valuable member of society".

Well, let me tell you this: you don't own society anything! You didn't ask to be born, you're not a slave to man made rules, you haven't signed any contract with your own blood. You were born to be you, to make your life valuable to you and no one else, and to survive at the best of your ability.

Now I doubt these words will at all help, and I know there are a lot of people out there who don't agree with me about said words and all of what I will be writing from here on in this entry. It's all about "get an education, grown up, get a job, fold your laundry, grow up, move out and did I mention grow up?!" nowadays. It's sad, it truly is.

I think about slavery. Harsch, perhaps, but that is the way society is going, in case you haven't noticed. Today's youth come off as lazy, despondent and that their lives are practically meaningless unless they take up that mop and clean the damn floors already or they won't get food on their tables. See what I mean?

I realise, cause I'm not that daft, that society is ruled by money and independence above all else. Being dependent is being a burden, living on social welfare is basically stealing other people's tax money, and crashing on your parents sofa until you're 35 isn't very productive - but just hear me out, okay? Complaining about having to abide to society's structured "rules" isn't about being lazy.

I'm walking on that thin line between being mentally disabled and just a lazy brat, but I'm not blind or stupid enough to not realise that I am privileged cause I don't need a job or pay for my own flat. What I want is for everyone, not just young people, to stop shoving it into your own and other peoples faces that you are useless in society. You don't have to be a good citizen for your life to matter.

I'm quite a heavy burden for this society. I live on your tax money, so indirectly it's YOU who pay for my rent, my clothes, food and cigarettes. I can't really afford much else cause the payment I get is minimum wage. I take a lot of prescription drugs, and the state pays for most of it (cause högkostnadsskydd, you know) and the same with almost all of my psychiatric hospital visits. If that wasn't enough I live under LSS as you all know, which means that I have people who have it as their job to do my dishes and help me clean up my mess. Literally.

But do I feel guilty? Hardly. Do you know why? Because it is my right as a member of society to get the help that I need in order to survive. The privilege, is that I'm sick enough to get that help, but others who also suffer might not be, and they die because society won't help them.

People who have had the guts to confront me about my way of living (most just give a friendly pat on my shoulder and tell me not to worry, it's gonna work out in the end for me as well, but I appreciate it when people are honest with me, so don't take this wrong) have asked me what I really want to do with my life. I don't quite understand that question, to be perfectly honest. I'm not halfway anywhere, I'm doing all that I can and sometimes more when I have the strength to. I've survived numerous of suicide attempts, mental torment and a disabling headache for a decade, I can just barely stay above the surface most days, but I still try my best to pursue my long term goals and dreams.

People seem to just assume that I want a job like I'm supposed to. Make my own money the way I'm supposed to. And what if I don't want that? It doesn't matter how damn drunk you are if you ask a person that sort of question, you should fucking respect an honest answer: no I don't, and you can't argue with that. I don't want to work for money, because doing some shit job where someone tells me what to do, just to get a pay check at the end of the month, just isn't my cup of tea.

If I would ever have a job, it would be something that I enjoy. I don't mean a paid full-time vacation, I mean an actual profession that doesn't make you long for Fridays and hate Mondays. Now, I don't technically need a job of any kind, but that's beside the point. It truly is, because the message I want to get out is this: if you can avoid the responsibilities society has handed out for you, fucking do it.

Maybe you don't want to be role model of the year, famous or even the slightest bit of a rebel, but not wanting to be a part of this slavery doesn't make you lazy. That, is what truly makes you an individual. To be able to step aside and take another road to the same goal we are all aiming for: to be happy.

I wish someone could actually listen to me, when I say you don't have to flip burgers in order to survive, there are other options. There truly are. Just open your eyes and see that there is a whole world in front of you.