Come one, come all

I'm in quite a confused state right now. Don't know exactly how to describe it. I'm thinking about my love and how things are with him. I'm worried, excited and feel guilty all at once. I don't know how to play my game, so to say. Which cards to show and which to keep hiding. It might be time to make a move, though I'm very uncertain.

Also thinking about my demon form. That I miss what I looked like, that it feels like an emotional amputation of sorts. Sometimes I think maybe this life has changed me too much, that I'm not the demon I once was anymore. I hope that isn't true. Cause if it is true then I am nothing. Neither demon nor human.

And I'm thinking about Caspian, my dearest from Dala, and that it was because of him I started to get more interested in elves. Tolkien and world of warcraft elves mostly. Every time I fall in love I hope that person is him. In spirit, of course. That even if he wouldn't remember being an elven prince in a past life, I would still somehow recognise them as him. Or her, cause you never really know with reincarnations now do you? They screwed it up in my case, so why shouldn't it be possible the same thing happened to him?

I wonder who I am and where I belong in this world, if not in my love's arms, the only place I want to be, the only place where I can't be. Cause even when I doubt, I can never really stop believing and hoping. My dreams are my life. But my life... is a nightmare.

Racing heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fool for love

I'm still afraid that if I let myself feel, I will break into pieces. Still holding it back, but it's getting harder. It seeps through, like smoke through a window splice. It seeps through my medication, my will and fading strength. And I know it's poisonous. Feelings usually are, but this... I just know it's too strong. I've been down this road before, I know what will happen, just give me a little more time before it does.

Love is the worst feeling that I've ever experienced. Or unrequited love, to be more precise. When I'm in love with someone that I can't have, someone who just won't look at me that way, whatever the reason. Just thought of something though. If or when I tell him what I feel for him, how awkward won't it be when he realises that all these blog posts and all those poems were all about him?

I'm creepily obsessed, and I have been for many months now. Soon eight months. A lot has been written in that time. Not all was about him of course, but most of it mentions him in one way or another.

I still hold back writing down information about my love here. Of course I would never ever display private information, but that's not what I meant. I mean public information like that he likes Lord of the rings or what his hair looks like. Cause if I describe him too much, it would almost be like writing his name here. And I don't wanna do that, I don't want people to know.

Besides, what does it matter to you who it is? The question I get "who is it?" is to the person that asks more important than my answer. Especially since most or almost all of my friends don't even know of him. I've only told my two best friends and my mother. Okay, I really gotta tie this mess of a text up now.

Final statement
Perhaps you figured out, or maybe I've already told, that my main but not only reason to that I'm thinking of suicide again, is because of my love to him. Not because of him; he's a sweetheart, but because of my own stupid heart.

Unliveable life

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

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

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

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

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

Holidays and mental illness

I think I know now why I often (not always) get much worse over holidays, such as Midsummer and Christmas. It could be because I don't have any connection with the psychiatry at those times. They are all on vacation. And lately, I can't even rely on my medication to keep me above the surface. Something is constantly increasing, decreasing, new or old coming up and I have to change my meds again.

During this autumn and winter so far, I've had to see my psychiatrist every month (that is a lot in my life) cause there's always something new going on. Anxiety, sleeplessness and mood swings are the most recurring reasons these days.

So, my theory is that because I don't have any shrinks or doctors to go to on a regular basis around those holidays it causes emotional overload. It's sad cause it's a time you're supposed to enjoy life, but it's also proving the point that mental illness doesn't take a break just because it's a time for celebration. For long I had to convince my parents of that, that I don't get to choose when my anxiety hits the roof or when I get suicidal. That delicious food and presents don't make the voices more tolerable, or that candy and cake don't chase away my irrational fears. I wish it did though. God, I wish it did.

For so many Christmas holidays I have curled up in my room with razor blades or stuffed animals, trying to hide what horrible state I was in so that my parents wouldn't notice that their celebration didn't ease my misery. And it all just made me feel even more horrible. Ungrateful. They were doing everything they could to make it a good time for me and my sister, and there I was banging my head in the wall to make the voices stop saying mean things to me. It felt like it was my fault, that I was ungrateful and selfish. That I somehow demanded more, which of course I didn't, if not only from myself then.

No one should have to feel that way. Cause I can't be the only one who's had it like that. I seriously thought it was me doing something wrong, that I didn't appreciate the seasonal celebration enough. But that's not true, it's not your fault if you can't make yourself feel better just because you're supposed to.

While you probably do get told that you can't reason with psychological problems like anxiety, it should be more informative of the fact that it can be extra horrible during holidays. But it never says anything about that anywhere, as far as I know. So I'm saying it right now. Because you have more demands on yourself, and feeling the pressure from family and friends that you should be happy. I wish I would have known that in my teens and late childhood.

Although, that is what you get told as a child, isn't it? That if you suffer and complain with no visible reason for it, you're obviously ungrateful and whiny. Though I had no word for anxiety when I was ten, and Anna was very keen about me not uttering a single word about her constant nagging voice in my head. So even when I eventually did complain I didn't really say anything about what was actually going on with me.

My mental problems have never given a damn about the circumstances around me. It can be winter, summer, autumn or spring - rainy, snowy, sunny or cloudy - Christmas Eve or just a normal Thursday - when my emotional chaos starts storming again. It isn't dependent on the weather or the season at all. I call it "chaos" for a very good reason: it is undefinable, unpredictable and seemingly uncontrollable.

Right now I settle for just calling it "chaos" rather than trying to shove it into a specific diagnosis. As I use to say (not that often I think though) is that I believe I will some day have a mental disorder named after me. But... if I'm the only one with that new disorder, maybe it won't be named at all? I've gotta find myself some followers!

Cause seriously, I could be considered "completely healthy" by psychological standards: not fit into any diagnosis at all. But having at least one, or several, horrible traits of almost every disorder known to man is making me mentally disabled ...and undiagnosed. I have considered that option before, it's just that it would be so painful. Cause that would doom me. Doom, damn and condemn me for the rest of my days. There's a reason why they shuffle me between different departments all of the time. I'm allover the place, my problems are allover the place, and I don't fit in anywhere. It's confusing, but apparently I'm worse off without that circus, I notice during those times of celebration.

Conclusion: Maybe this is the reason, maybe it is not. Maybe I just still, since childhood, have those demands on me that I'm not allowed to be an emotional chaos just because we're opening presents and eat special food.

*

Okay, this turned out a whole lot longer than I intended it to. It's these words, they never end. I could go on and on on the same issue for hours and even days, and still be able to go back to it later and continue ravaging it. I'll try to cut it a little. There. Much shorter.

Stand up for yourself, damn it

My mood swings are back, and rather severely. Fuck. Today I've been shifting between being furious, sad and hysterically laughing at everything. And then back and forth between those faster than I can comprehend. Why do I have to be such an emotional chaos, even when drugged up on mood stabilisers?! Yeah, sleep deprivation isn't dangerous at all... it just makes me a super borderline-depressive-schizophrenic-fucked-up mess. And intensifies it. Loads.

If I didn't hate my brain before, I sure as hell do now. Excuse my while I go off and OD on my meds... nah, just kidding, but the urge is there.

Tried to speak my opinion about feminism in a debate/conversation with an acquaintance on Facebook. My god, I've been awake for 52 hours and I'm lethargic and wired at the same time. I rarely, no I think I've never expressed my true opinion about feminism before. Afraid to mess things up considering almost all of my friends have so solid opinions about the issue and I don't agree with them. Me? Afraid to speak my mind? Apparently, but I don't want to do that anymore. Even though it's hard being tackled down by my friends, I shouldn't be afraid to open up to them.

I think that the concept of feminism is faulty and I dislike that people follow it so blindly. I think that I only have one friend who realises that the concept is faulty and luckily that is my crush. "Luckily" because his opinion is the most important to me since I fell for him. Though I don't know fully what he thinks about the issue at large, I might be wrong about him agreeing with me, cause I really don't know to be honest. (The person I mainly had this debate with is by the way a mutual friend to my crush, which means he can read the dispute and my opinions if he wants to). 

I only know that his opinion isn't a blind slavery to a political issue that everyone seem to be expected to follow blindly without questioning it. What the fuck is wrong with people? Politics are meant to be opinionated and questioned. That is how we evolve and change this fucked up society!

Shaping up

I finally had a talk with my mother. I had an anxiety outbreak and taking my pills for that made the whole experience even worse. So instead of spiraling completely out of control I called my mother yesterday. I ended up confessing about one thing and the other, and then I also explained that about her not believing me. Also Schizophrenia came up, but to my utmost surprise it wasn't I who mentioned it! How interesting that she also had been thinking of that possibility. We cleared up our misconceptions and I got a few answers to my queries. I didn't tell her about my Satanism, but I did tell her about my previous alcoholism, hypnophobia and cutting. So I got a little off my chest.

Had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, and told her about my messy addiction journey I had going on this summer, my sleeping problems and what more. Got a different type of as needed meds for my anxiety and she sent a referral to someone who can help me quit smoking, on my request of course. I also whined about the psychiatry not doing a shit to help me heal my mental wounds. Not much she could do about that though, but I’m off to Vuxenhabiliteringen on Friday so I can keep on whining there instead.

The solution we agreed on, about my sleeping problem, is as follows. Stop consuming caffeine after 5 o'clock in the evening, start taking my sedatives/sleeping pills again, get a circadian rhythm again with help from the crew. I asked them if they can wake me up a bit more brutally in the morning, and they said they can absolutely do that. They're handy like that. I also got a higher dosage on my mood stabilisers, to get my extra extreme mood swings under control again. My motivator for getting in better shape is to be fit for surgery, and so we all (me, my mother and the psychiatrist) agreed that is a good motivator. So it's high time for me to pull myself together a bit again.

Pushing it

Sometimes I forget to breathe when I’m around my love on the internet. I get reminded by Anna yelling at me to breathe for fucks sake and I have no idea what she's on about all of a sudden. It's a positive oxygen deprivation though. Well, that came out wrong... what I mean is the reason why I suddenly just stop breathing without me noticing it, is due to positive things. Sometimes I’m afraid that “this time he really read between the lines, realised I’m having intentions and I’ve scared him off” and other times I catch myself almost thinking maybe he has intentions too which makes me a little bubbly inside.

I’m playing a dangerous but very fun game (one could almost call it flirting): sending him very vague signals hidden in normal, friendly conversations. Like writing in a heart in a sentence referring to something we both like, but in my mind and in the way the sentence is structured, the heart could be meant directly to him, but only if you really read a lot into it. Or if you read my blog and every post I’ve answered on Facebook you might be able to figure it out as well. I don't really know how good I am at mind games...

Now I don't do that all the time of course, only if I an do it neatly and if I’m 110% sure it doesn't look suspicious. On a subconscious level of some kind I want him to notice, but most of my common sense and self-preservation does not want him to notice, since that could be quite devastating. So why do I do it then? I’ll get back to you when I figure out an answer...

Down there again

I miss him so much it bleeds inside. As if I had dragged that razorblade across the surface of my heart instead of my arm. I don't know why I feel this way right now. I swallow caffeine pills with room temperature energy drinks, and I’m up at five now. A little overdose can't harm me, right? I mean I’m already consuming extra caffeine on the side, so what's the harm? I will notice if I get too much, it feels like a horrible anxiety attack with extra everything, sort of. And so far I’m nowhere near that. I’m an addict gotten used to high doses, I will always be an addict one way or another, but for now I’m only doing it to stay awake. Even if I consume over 1000 mg caffeine a day, the lethal dose is at least ten times that. That would be close to 35 jars of caffeine pills in an instant. I’m safe.

Well, as safe as safe can be in this misery. This comes and goes, which makes it so much harder because how the hell would I know what I actually feel? Which are my true emotions, how does this hypnophobia affect me, what do I feel about it? How can I possibly know? I’m racing between polar extremes in the whole emotional spectrum every day. Nothing feels real anymore, I’m a caricature of myself.

I’m so lost right now. Left between different certainties and localisation of thoughts. Now I’m not certain of anything and I can't even localise my own brain. Not even sure what the hell it is I’m feeling. Sad, helpless, empty. Perhaps. Nothing means anything, it all seems so pointless. And before you think it, yes even suicide seems pointless. What would that lead to? More loss, heartbreak and emptiness. Cause how can I feel anything if my heart stops beating and my brain dies? I want to feel, but I just don't know what. I turn every possible emotion into something negative by thinking it will never last, and as soon as it has passed I will forget what it once felt like. And the stronger the positive emotion, the higher the fall. Cause I always fall, gravitation works both ways: physically and metaphysically.

Torn apart inside, I’m lying scattered on the surface. Like some bad poem I’ve written a million times in different words. How many hundreds of poems can I write about the same thing anyway? I’m cold and I can't find any rest. How does one rest without sleep anyway? I should eat but the thought of food disgusts me and I’m too tired to get up anyway. I should restart my computer. I should shower, I should... Fuck that. I’ve lost interest for everything in this moment. Right now, nothing is worth doing, nothing gives me any sense of meaning.

Highs and lows

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

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

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

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

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

Middle landing on apathy...