Hoping

I'm still bargaining. Still trying to understand why this happened. Why me? Okay that is a stupid question. But I just counted on it to go so well for some reason, cause you know I should have known better by now. Though I just somehow knew it was gonna take two operations. Maybe more now, I don't know. I don't know how this can be corrected. Maybe they can take skin from somewhere else and hope that will stick. Or I'll just have scars instead of nipples.

That chest piece tattoo I want suddenly seems more alluring to get. And maybe somehow expand it to cover the scars. I don't know. Maybe they won't turn out so bad? Yeah, keep hoping. I scar so easily and they show. Even though my skin is almost as pale as the healed scars, at least on my arms. But it's different kind of skin there. I don't know. I don't know anything as of now.

I'm trying not to think about it. Fill my head with world of warcraft and tumblr instead. But scrolling makes my head hurt more, so not so much tumblr then. Just gonna play some more and then go to bed. Wash my face, brush my hair (it's easy these days) and brush my teeth. Aiming for a shower tomorrow or the day after. Hopefully I can sleep well tonight too. Doesn't hurt to hope at least. For better days, I mean.

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.

Denial and bargaining

Started a little with my coat/robe today, but my head is killing me so I couldn't continue. Took some measurements and cut out a large piece of fabric for the back part of it. I bought 4 metres of a lovely deep purple, velvet fabric. Fake of course, but very nice still in a thick, very smooth texture. Only a tailoring nerd like myself would find something to complain about it, if you catch my drift.

I still feel weird from yesterday and hesitating to take a shower, though I probably need one. Detached words from yesterday's conversations with the doctors and with my mother echo inside my head like little stones in an empty barrel. I can't understand. I knew my body reacts weird with healing, I knew it from all the piercings I've tried to have and I yet I went for the transplanted procedure.

I should have known, shouldn't I? Yet, there wasn't that much of other options, I knew that too. But couldn't I at least have thought about it? I mean I've had that surgery on my mind since I was 19 at least. Some time during those years from then on that thought should have popped up, shouldn't it?

I'm going through the five stages of grief and I'm currently shifting between denial, isolation and bargaining. Skipped anger though, or just haven't gotten there yet. Losing my tits was just getting rid of something that wasn't supposed to be there to begin with, like a tumour or something, but losing my nipples... well, that sort of feels like actually losing something. And I can't describe it, I'm not even sure if I want to.

So I'm trying to fill my head with nonsense instead. Something, anything, to keep my thoughts off that subject. But I feel so weak, physically, like as soon as I try to do something away from the computer I get tired so quickly and my head starts hurting more than I can handle. I can't focus on movies or books or embroidering right now. Can barely focus on WoW, barely on anything at all.

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.

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.

I cannot cope at night

Is it gonna be like this every night, or what? I get more sensitive with the darkness, and somehow my loneliness becomes more potent. As of now that is a bad thing. I hate that I'm so fucking sensitive. Toughen up, already! Crying like a little girl, I should be ashamed of myself... but this anxiety is eating at my soul, this sadness is tearing me inside out.

I fear that I might start getting afraid of sleep again. Afraid of dreams and nightmares, of waking up in distress several times a night, of not waking up at all. Afraid of losing control I jump out of bed as soon as I'm awakened by the crew in the morning. Won't allow myself to sleep the day away. I fight to stay up as late as possible and I fight to get up as early as possible. It's a viscous circle.

And this fucking lovesickness. Ripping, tearing, aching, hurting, screaming inside me. I'm out out of words for it, cause I've already explained it a thousand times. A thousand tears each for my inability to cope, for the dream that can't come true, for the painful reality that he'sd taken and lives so far away and why would he even glance in my direction the way I want him to?

A thousand words to describe what I cannot put into words. I'm full of paradoxes and ambivalence, but this is so crude, so through and through. Filling up every space in my heart until no one else matters. No one else and nothing else. I neglect my friends, I neglect my family for an impossible dream, for a guy I cannot have.

I so hoped this was all just temporary, I wish that I would have died from it much sooner. Cause then I wouldn't have to suffer. Isn't that what death is, that you no longer have to suffer? Eight months in this mess, it's like a tangled cobweb I can't get out from, I just keep entangling myself deeper and deeper. And nothing makes any sense anymore.

I don't know who I am, I don't know what sort of life this is I'm trying to live. I live in his shadow. Cautiously following him around every corner, trying to hide my true feelings, always afraid of coming off as either too cold or too creepy.

Aching for his presense, his spoken words in my ear, his gentle touch that I can never have. For him to notice and find out that we have more in common than he realised. My endless thoughts are spinning aimlessly, devoured by too strong emotions, too much of everything that I cannot handle.

I just don't know what the fuck to do. I'm so lost and I feel as though I'm just getting more and more lost every day. I just have to get out of here, just have to get out of here...

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.

Survival without rules

I'm hiding my true feelings even to myself right now. Cause it's better that way. I don't want to feel them, know of them or deal with them. It's heavy enough as it is. Surviving... just focus on that. Eat, sleep, wake up, smoke, pop pills, cut, do whatever is necessary, escape escape escape. Into tv-shows, internet, writing, world of warcraft, anything.

By the way, I've decided to never answer my phone again if it's a secret number calling. Fucking Radiotjänst and telemarketers. Gave me so much anxiety last night, I didn't know what to do with myself. Really, really don't need more of that. In fact my phone rang so many times just a few hours after I had gotten back home yesterday, it threw me into a black hole of despair. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but damn I went furious, anxious, I couldn't deal with it. Starting to hyperventilate and cold sweat after a phone call? Yeah, I guess it would depend on the conversation.

So yeah, welcome home and yada yada. Eventually I fell asleep some time in the early morning, so out of it on drugs I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Falling asleep filled to the brim with anxiety is just as bad as falling asleep right after an argument. Possibly worse. I woke up at ten this morning, but I stayed in bed until three in the afternoon because I couldn't find a reason to get up. And I'm still bummed after that anxiety attack. Reasons to live, wish I had any.

How much longer

I've started to escape my reality with sleep. To the point of taking more sedatives when I wake up so that I can sleep some more. I just tipped the scale, didn't I? From extreme sleep deprivation to over sleeping. It all stems from the same problem though: don't wanna sleep, and don't wanna be awake at the same time.

Didn't go to the grocery store today, even though I'm all out of food, or almost. My anxiety or sadness is still deep and I'd rather just sit in here doing nothing, than put on a jacket and go buy some food. On one hand I think that nobody cares about my suffering, but on the other hand I think they all care too much.

This is something I can't do anything about, I only have two options. One being keep bottling it up, keep pressing all these feeling away as far as I possibly can. The other is letting them roam free and possibly destroy me in the process. I suppose I value my life more this time, and I protect it as much as I can. But my mind is sore and my heart is weak. Carrying this is tiring me and I don't know how much further I'll be able to.

Once again I'm falling apart, but this time I'm actually trying not to. Willed enough to keep on fighting, but not strong enough. And I thought self destruction was only something you do by choice.

Losing it

Saw my psychologist's today, and I told her about what has made me feel like shit these last few days. What I still won't mention in this blog, but yeah, it's about my crush as you might have figured out. I told her that I think I'm in some sort of shock, and she agreed that is likely. My heart was beating so fast when I told her, and I just couldn't stop the tears. I guess saying it out loud for the first time was a bit overwhelming. I've never cried in front of someone in her position before.

We discussed it a little, but as usual I only remember some of what was said. That she thought I should wait until I'm ready to let those feelings that I'm bottling up loose, and then allow myself to have them. I said it made me sad, and she talked about mourning. Maybe she implied that it's time to let go of my crush, but I don't wanna give up, not just yet. I'm still waiting for him.

Shortly after I got back home I kinda started to feel like I was losing it again, but didn't resort to any self harm or pill popping. Not that I thought I could do without it, I just didn't want to. So I fell asleep on the sofa instead. Thought sleeping was better than being awake. Don't know if I'll get any more sleep tonight though. I guess it depends.

Preventing my heart from breaking

Today I've mostly been chain smoking, drinking a lot of tea, consuming chocolate of various kinds. All drugged up on Zyprexa and Sobril, endorphins from numerous self inflicted wounds. Can barely walk or control my muscles and my eyes feel heavy, but sleep is impossible. I'm calmer now though. But it took half my stash of meds to get there.

I haven't felt this numb and empty for as long as I can remember. Maybe I'm in some sort of shock. I can't feel the music, only hear it. I don't get angry, or amused by anything. It's like I've shut down, or a part of me has. But better empty than full of anxiety and sadness, which is what I'm trying to hold back. Maybe holding back a bunch of feelings takes so much energy that no other feelings can emerge in their place. And it leaves me with this empty hole inside of me.

Everything is half-hearted, resistant, hesitant. Maybe I want to be miserable? Maybe I asked for this to happen? I know I thought it. Just so that I could suffer more. Cause this is the only way I know how to feel alive. This week is gonna be a hell to survive.

Hopes and hopelessness

I had a meeting with my psychiatrist today, and she said she'd call the hospital in Huddinge to try and find out what's going on over there. Cause I haven't heard as much as a whisper since I was there in August and I've been climbing on the walls for quite a while now. The worst is not the waiting, it's not knowing how long I should be waiting for. It's not certain she'll reach the right person over the phone, or if they would tell her anything, or if they even have anything to tell her. Worth a try though.

It's like I'm playing "catch me if you can" with sleep itself. Making the frightening chase into a chaotic, potentially dangerous, self destructive game. A competition of hours, another obsession, a fucking achievement.

Though, it lets me think of something else, focus my mind off my main obsession for a little while. My crush. Cause thinking of him is getting more and more painful each passing day. Knowing that he's so far away both literally and figuratively makes it harder and harder to cope, as I'm slowly realising how impossible my dreams are. I knew this would happen sooner or later, I just wished it could have been later.

This sadness is growing bigger inside me. A little more today than it was yesterday, and it was more yesterday than the day before that. It's a heavy, calm sadness like a soft dark veil swept over my face. Not the brutal, numbing sadness that brings endless amounts of tears and low self esteem. Though I do cry quite a lot, but only when provoked and often while watching a movie or reading something sad. Like twenty times a day... I also isolate more, cause I don't want to face the world outside.

I look at the world with more gloomy eyes, a bitter frown at the colours of the nature around the corner. I smile a fake smile when someone points out a cute animal before my eyes, as dark thoughts ravage my head and I couldn't care less about the creature. I have to bite my tongue to not let out all of my negative thoughts and pessimistic views on my so called future.

Cause I need for people to know that I still keep my hopes up, it's just that I can't express them any longer. For what I hope for and what I believe will happen isn't the same thing.

Moments of clarity

My heart is hurting, it feels like my heart hurts. And I don't even know why, it's just painful. Yeah, maybe I do know why, but it's easier to escape it, easier to just run away from it. But I try not to. Just stay here, indulge in the pain and let it hurt me. Let it tear me to pieces.

I don't know why I think I should stay in the emotion, but maybe a part of me wants me to suffer. Be torn to pieces over and over until there won't be any excuses left. No reasons to pretend, no lies left to cover it up. The so very real, bleeding truth revealing. Taking over everything. Making true everything that I believe in, showing the real fucked me that I've been trying to humanise. For I am not human and I will never be. My false hopes of just being totally damaged falls apart and I realise once again that this is not only what I've become, but what I've always been.

Sure I have the typical traits of a human being, but just look at me. There are too many contradictions and impossibilities to look past. Things about me that just shouldn't be possible, yet they are. I believe in what I am in my days of clarity, and I accept that I'm different beyond reason, cause I know why I am here. I have discovered the answer to one of the most mysterious questions humans have asked themselves since the dawn of time. I know why I am here, my purpose, the meaning of my life.

But it brings me no comfort, no happiness or joy. I believe that I hold all the answers to all the questions I carry, but answers alone has never brought me anything. A great discovery is only great in the moment you discover it. Then you sit there and ask yourself "And? So what, what does it even matter? How does this change anything?"

For the path you are meant to follow is the path you are already walking.

The question about the meaning of life is thrilling, mysterious and alluring. But the answer is simple, stupid and disappointing. It's like the question of what makes the world so beautiful and harmonic? And the answer is just a bunch of numbers. Or how do you learn to live with anxiety, depression, phobias, sleep disorders and the like? Simply let go. The answer is expected to be astonishing, thought provoking and marvellous. And all there is, is something you shrug at. A disappointment.

I ask myself "was it even worth it?" all those years of searching for my purpose. No... or maybe it was, I don't know. But it certainly was a disappointment. Much like most people I expected something amazing, something that would change my life or at least my view on life. But if I know so much, what really is my purpose? To know more. What kind of idea of a joke is that!? The message is simply that I can never get enough knowledge and understanding, and I'm here to fill in the gaps. I hate and can't stand humans, yet I'm here to understand them. To live among them and learn as much as I can about them.

Cause what if you don't like what the great beyond has set out for you? What if you don't want to walk that path, and there's no way to escape it? It's the fucking meaning of your life, it is why you are here. Would you really want to know? Would you...?

Cause I hate my fucking purpose.

Ambivalent sleep issues

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

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

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

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

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

Sleepless tonight

I think maybe my arm warmers will grow stuck my arms in due time. I didn't even notice I have them on today, until now. And being without them, even for just a minute feels weird and sort of naked. Dreading the day I will have to wash them. Three whole hours that I won't be able to wear them! Catastrophe!

I've started another embroidery piece, as I got the tip on making band patches. Found that FGFC820 has a pretty simple logo, so I start off with that one. Besides, they have become one of my favourite bands now. Though I listen to so many different band's music nowadays, it's hard to figure out which ones to make patches of. Maybe it will just come to me.

It's five o'clock again and I'm still awake. Just waiting for the Imovane to kick in, and listening to Sigur Rós that has a calming effect on me. Sad songs, but calming in a way. I just had a re-run on "Vanilla Sky", one of my favourite films all time. I recognise myself so much in the main character, except for him being rich and pretty, and I'm not. So many good quotes in it that sticks to my mind. Like when Julie asks David "What is happiness to you?" and I sometimes try to answer that question myself, but I still can't find an answer.

I'm one of those hopelessly tragic people who could wait a whole lifetime for that one true love, to have a perfect body, to live a happy life. Those are nice dreams for sure, but they're unrealistic. To make this one special person fall in love with me, to change body into looking a lot more masculine, to live on a constant hight rush of creative energy and inspiration.

It's seven o'clock and I'm still awake. Think I broke my record of too much cutting in only one day, today. It's like I can't stop once I've started, and I never really know what gets me started either. But just checking the healing process of my earlier made wounds can be a trigger, I guess. That, and this horrible night time anxiety which is related to my hypnophobia. It's still there, and still making my life shit.

Impressions

I have on and off thought about going incommunicado sometime. Just for a few days or so. I have no idea when, where or how though. Just that it would be so sweet being alone without any contact with other people, for a little while. Instead of going nuts and lashing out on everyone who don't wanna leave me alone, because they "care" or whatever.

Steal my mother's car and head off to... well, nowhere. Cause sometimes I just get so damn tired of people. They talk, they judge and they have opinions. Besides, there's only one person that I want to be with, and care to listen to, but he's not exactly around here.

I think I've come down with a slight case of a rhino virus, and if it wasn't for my smoking it would have been over in a day or two. But oh well, a little coughing, the occasional throat pain and extra snivelling doesn't bother me much.

I'm back home after my trip to the main country, and it was really nice. Way over my expectations! Yeah, I had some, pretty vague expectations. Two awesome party nights after each other, lots of booze, caffeine, nicotine and socialising. Though many nights were riddled with anxiety basically no matter what I did. There's only so much you can do with Mirtazapine, Lergigan, Imovane, Zyprexa, cutting and listening to calming music. It took about 3-5 hours to fall asleep most nights. Then I slept until late afternoon. So that was the negative part, but my sleep was bad already before my trip.

I'm so tired from the flight and such now, still I can't sleep. Maybe too much impressions to process or whatever. I may have physically left Uppsala and Stockholm behind me, but mentally it feels like I'm still there. It's hard to explain, but I think you can understand the thing about wherever you go, you leave something behind. Cause it feels like I left a part of me there, a feeling, energies or an impression of sorts.

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.

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.

Escaping

I'm scrolling down through several hundred tumblr posts to find his posts that doesn't appear on his page for some reason. Wow, I must be really obsessed... but if I got an answer post, shouldn't it show up in my inbox? I don't know, better safe than sorry I guess.

I managed to get rid of most of my headache, thanks to some Aspirin. Feels like I’m just waiting for the morning to come, so I won't be stuck bored with nothing to do, just wanting to keep crafting or even just redo a waistcoat to a three piece suit I found second hand. Or to just take walk, have a reason to shower, wear make up and dressing up nice. I’m trying to get used to wearing make up again.

I’m listening to songs about suicide, feeling lonely and broken. Maybe it would be nice to just jump and fall free? It's the closest I'd ever get to flying. I’m trying not to think that way, and maybe this is just a fantasy, a mind game to see if I could really do it someday. Testing myself. I’m doing that from time to time. Isn't it sad that I find “suicide” to be one of the most beautiful English words? The most beautiful word being “sovereign” which is almost its opposite, meaning “confident” or “governor”.

Alright, time has passed to forenoon and I’m off for some shopping. I must have miscalculated when I wrote that it was 33 hours to the appointment with my psychiatrist on Wednesday. It was actually 57 hours, with 48 hours remaining. That might be harder than I expected to stay up for, but it feels like I really don't have much other choice than to do so. Good thing I’ve written a list of everything I intend to say at the meeting, so I don't really need to be sharp as a knife, so to speak.

Found this amazing, beautiful song by Radiohead called “How to disappear completely” and I dream away to someplace else while listening to it. I see endless fields of red sand and dead plants, sand swirling in the wind, a few naked trees in the distance, a clear blue sky. No living creature anywhere to be seen. I want to be there, just sitting on a rock warm in the sun, feeling the wind on my face. So far from civilisation, my own miserable life, everything. I really like that I’m so good at visualisation, even imagining what warm winds and sand in my face could feel like, what it would smell like, even though I’ve never been to such a place. Not in the real world at least, just in my dreams and imagination. Maybe that is why I’m good at drawing and writing? Cause I can see and sense things so clearly in my head, I mean.

I collect “happy places”, imaginary places where I go to relax or escape from something in the real world. Whether it be an anxiety attack, a quarrel, on the verge on dissociation or just stressed out. My favourite is a meadow, a green field with white, blue, pink and purple flowers; a surrounding forest on both sides, a clear blue sky with little white clouds and a calming breeze. Sometimes I just stand there on the field, other times I lie down or run around.

Sometimes I run to the end of the field, a few hundred metres or so the meadow ends and there's a cliff. Not a steep one, but gently leaning towards a small beach. It's a little tricky climbing down the boulders and rocks to the light yellow sand leading to a calm ocean. I have only once or twice bathed in that imaginary ocean, I only ever go that far when I’m in a very difficult situation and very much need to calm down and relax, or literally need to escape but can't. I think I created this place two or three years ago, so I know it quite well.

I feel strange, like distant. Maybe I'm still in that desert.