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.

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.

Choices and voices

Vargyl: Stop talking about yourself as if you were someone else. I know what you're thinking, that I'm just a hallucination and you should discard me as such, but I know that you don't really think that. You're analysing too much. I'm not just a voice in your head and you know it.

Yeah, still torn between accepting reality and just wallowing in my fantasy world. Though he does intimidate me, so I don't know so much about the wallowing part. I know so little about him, yet I have so much to write about him. He seems cold. Like right through cold, emotionless, frigid, and I suppose that's what intimidates me about him. He says that he loves me, but his words are empty, shallow in a way. Still I believe him. I hate it when he pops out of nowhere, says something and it makes me jump out of my chair. Could ask for a little warning before, perhaps?

Yeah I am a bit afraid of my own mind. And all these people that seem to populate it all of a sudden. I'm never alone, I'm not even alone in my own skin. Though, it's not always bad. It can be quite nice to have some company sometimes. But it's irritating when they disturb my WoW playing so that I almost end up getting killed in the middle of a raid or something. The whole group wiped in a dungeon but I can't know for sure if I have Vargyl to blame for that, though he was distracting me.

I know that this gets worse when I'm awake for too long. After 24 hours I'm having a nervous conversation with Vargyl. After 30 hours Anna is starting to lose it and I'm starting to hallucinate visually, seeing stuff. After 40 to 50 hours I need to hold on to my desk because the floor is wobbling and constantly look over my shoulder cause I think someone is watching me. After 60 to 70 hours I'm tackling three conversations with Anna, Vargyl and Satan but gotten used to the other stuff. Passed that I've never gotten. Thankfully.

But is it a choice that I make to stay up way after bedtime, or is it rather involuntary? I sure as hell wouldn't choose hallucinations and delusions going haywire and creeping the fuck out of me, but I don't choose to sleep either. Perhaps I try to not choose either of them, cause I really hate making a decision. What I would do to not have to choose at all. Anything. Just leave all the options constantly available for when the right time comes. Why does everything have to be so black and white? They say there are grey zones, but when it comes to sleep/being awake there really isn't any greys in between.

Haunted by my own ghosts

I notice that I eat more now, since I'm awake around the clock. Usually I ate brunch and dinner. Now I get two brunches and two dinners. Keeps me going, and probably part of the reason why I'm still able to keep awake for so long. I take less caffeine and eat food, use chewing gum and sing along to the music to keep myself awake instead.

Got the tip about chewing gums from the film "Insomnia" and it's actually working! Wonder what the director and film crew would think if they would find out they just handed out a trick to help a hypnophobiac to stay awake.

Still trying to figure out what to say to my shrink on Friday, during our next meeting. I don't know if I will have slept anything until then. I think I have, to some degree let go, and now just go with the flow. Cause I have less anxiety about sleeping because I tell myself fuck that shit, fuck it if I sleep or not! And I think the anxiety itself made it harder to stay awake, so I tried even harder with more caffeine and grasping at any straws I could find.

Now I sit here in my fourth night slowly sipping an energy drink and trying to figure out which film to watch next. I'm not so worked up about my sleep issues because I choose to simply ignore them. Instead of trying to keep the car on the road I just let go off the steering wheel and sit back and enjoy the show. I won't die from sleep deprivation, though there hasn't been much research in that area. Some say "of course it's bad for you, cause you feel like road kill if you don't get enough sleep". Others say that "the worst that can happen is that you get a little slow and lethargic but that's about it, the body will regain it's need for sleep sooner or later, so no need to worry".

I miss him. I miss him so much these days, and keep playing up and replaying scenarios about a perfect future together with him. They're fairly realistic, though it's hard to think of realistic conversations when I don't know him so well. I feel so terribly lonely when I think about how much I miss him though. Just wanna go back to the main country ASAP, but I'm broke and can't even afford my own food and cigarettes. He's all I can think about. Or, he's the only positive thing I can think about in excess of my mental problems. It's quite a contrast, though even in that department we have a little in common.

Did I just fall asleep for a few seconds? Is that even possible? Just like that I am a female blood elf in WoW about to talk to some NPC's in something that could have been a dream, right after I had closed my eyes and then instantly snapped back to reality, eyes wide open. It didn't even take a minute.

I can't fucking believe it, I'm actually hallucinating a song that is stuck on my mind. I heard it first in the kitchen, but the buzzing from the microwave suffocated the music, I couldn't even figure out that it was music. So I kept walking around in my apartment, listening intensively, trying to figure out where it came from. Until I got into my bedroom.

The bedside lamp was still on, so I turned it off and leaned towards the wall furthest from the kitchen. I pretended that I lied on the floor, with my arms curled under my chin. The bedroom, that gives me so much anxiety, seemed to let off heavy energy of wasted sleep and unfulfilled dreams as I stood there. To actually be in there, not just go in for picking up something in the wardrobe or fixing with something, but to just be there. So much negative energy. For all those nights I achingly fell onto the mattress, wrapping my entire body tightly in the duvet, collecting my arms and legs as close to my torso as possible, just waiting for the long lost, hated sleep to devour me. And all those nights of terrifying dreams, waking up screaming, or waking up scared and not knowing where the fuck I am. Afternoons and evenings when I finally got enough willpower to drag myself up from there, put on clothes and leave the bedroom behind me again. It's haunted now, and the ghosts won't leave me be.

I had my ear against the bedroom wall and from it I could hear "Thanatophobia" by Funker Vogt. I can really hear it, like it's coming from somewhere in reality! I can't get it into my head that the sound I hear is coming from inside it. Reality is slowly turning up side down, as I count the hours to 92.

A glimpse into my altered world

16:12
This is the longest I've ever been awake for without any sleep or power napping or the like. 73 hours, or 3 days and 3 nights just passed in this, rather undead like state of being. I feel like a zombie, tired but not sleepy. Trying to occupy myself with films, embroidery, music, writing and knitting in varying order and combinations.

It's really starting to take its toll now, feels like my brain is turning into mush or something. Right now about half the world around me isn't real, I presume, cause with some things it's hard to tell. I'm having tactile, visual and auditory hallucinations almost constantly by now. They are weird, but not frightening. Every picture looks to be slowly moving, like an image cut in gif in slow motion. I'm looking at a picture of a woman with one hand on her chest and though it is a still photo, I can see her her hand softly stroking across her collar bone. Like if she touched herself or floated in water. Very graceful indeed.

23:53
It feels like I'm under water, on a sinking ship. The way my floor is unstable, and seems to rock under my feet, the way my vision is blurred and everything is having a slow dance as if I see the world through water. Distorted sounds with weird, misplaced thumping and clonking here and there. Yes, it actually feels a lot like I'm on a sinking ship. Yet I calmly sit here, not the least worried or scared. It's just strange, but still it isn't. It's just a feeling, a likeness, and I don't really believe that I'm literally drowning. It doesn't feel like drowning at all actually, it's soothing somehow.

I have gotten used to my supposedly different, or altered, world view cause I know of nothing else. Had I become psychotic over night from living a seemingly normal life until that moment I'd probably be very frightened. I don't even know if my world actually is psychotic, but I doubt that it is normal. Somewhere in between most days, and some days with a little extra spice; and others, very few days thankfully, are nightmarish.

So just how is my world view not "normal"? Because everything, people, events, things, conversations can or may not be real. Some times they are, other times they aren't. I interpret things differently. Read private messages sent specifically to me, masked to be hidden to others, in the strangest places and ways. I can hear the trees cry, the clouds are deciding my mood, water is whispering to me and I know when a certain piece of furniture has something personally against me - to mention a few things. This isn't figuratively speaking, in my world that is real and literally.

01:12
So strange... I don't feel tired or sleepy or drowsy at all. Yet I haven't had a single mg of caffeine in over three hours. It wears off fast for me. Kicks in with full power immediately and then wears off about half an hour to an hour later. I don't know if it's fun or just saddening to count the hours of being awake at this point, but I'm up at 83 hours now. I wonder if I'll reach 100, which is slightly over 4 days. A week is 168 hours. Good to know, and hope I won't go that far... would feel kind of devastated if I go to my psychologist appointment on Friday and tell her I've been awake since two o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday...

Asking for it

This is kinda weird, but I find myself forgetting where I was all of last week. Uppsala, damn it! How can I forget such a thing, like over and over again?! I only remember bits and glimpses. At night I dream that I wake up in the guest room where I slept in Uppsala, and then when I wake up for real in my own bed I wonder where the fuck I am. And where I was. Even when I'm clearly awake (or am I ever?) I start thinking about last week, and I get so confused cause I've forgotten where I was that entire week.

A part of me thinks that maybe that trip to Uppsala never actually happened, and that that is why I keep forgetting it. Another part of me tells me that I was on the verge of psychosis about half the time, and even did have a psychotic episode once, and that's why it's so hard to remember. Once again I'm having a hard time trying to differ dream from reality.

It's true that I did have some sort of psychosis while waiting for and on the bus from Arlanda to Uppsala last Thursday. The main 4 voices in my head including my own had a third world war for an hour and a half or so. Basically I tried to talk to Anna, Vargyl replied, they started fighting, I told them to shut the fuck up and unintentionally called out "Oh my god!" to which Satan replied, and then all three of them started fighting and talking to each other about me in third person. I tried to separate them, but I couldn't make out what anyone said cause they were all talking at once.

Weird thing though, while I was scared, restless and riddled with anxiety in the midst of all that, it was Anna who calmed me down. She said "You don't need to be afraid, we want you no harm". All the while, I couldn't help thinking what the other passengers on the bus must have thought of me. Constantly talking "to myself" and telling imaginary people to shut up, shaking and twitching and frenetically scribbling in my diary while desperately trying to hide myself under my hair. Well, that was one hell of a trip!

So... if I've counted correctly I have had 4 psychotic outbreaks in 4 months. That is just... I don't know. Not good. I really am getting worse, but at the same time I feel stronger, more grounded and hopeful than before. I'm actually looking forward to things in the future, want to work towards some goals in my life and change. So if I really have Schizophrenia it is actually way better than Borderline/Aspie stuck in a limbo that almost killed me. If you look at it that way...

Well, technically I'm still stuck in a limbo of sorts, but as long as I can endure my hallucinations and weird delusions going a little haywire every once in a while, I can manage. I have to, it's that simple. If life wanna fuck me over it's gotta have to do it properly this time if I'm supposed to go all suicidal again. NOT asking for hell to break loose, just saying that I won't go down easy. I may not have been down in this particular road in hell before, but I've seen many of the dark ones, survived them and come out stronger, so how hard can it be?

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?”

How to have fun in misery

I'm not sure whether the pictures I take of myself actually have become better lately, or if it just feels that way. Does the pictures look better cause I think that I'm actually looking better or is it the other way around?

Things are starting to look strange again... I’m torn between the fear of sleeping and the fear of hallucinating. I can't escape both, and I don't think that I can choose. What an obvious choice, perhaps, but it's never quite that simple when it comes to me. My fear of sleep is equally strong as my fear of hallucinating, thus making the decision impossible for me to make. I just wish I didn't have to make such a choice. But stupid as I am, I can feel it in my gut that I will choose to rather fight off imaginary insects to going to bed tonight. That's how far off the edge I am right now.

At least I got an appointment to see my therapist on Wednesday, so maybe I can get a tip or something on how to straighten myself out a little. If I will have to be admitted it will have to be a short visit cause I’m heading off to Uppsala the week after that! I really think I need that “perk me up” and it's better than any medicine or hospital bed. I even feel as if I have a slight case of energy going on these last few days. I’ve been taking a walk once, sometimes twice a day and my walk is light, steady and even faster than usually.

I’m making some stuff, sort of a Halloween outfit, but it's not a full costume. It will just be few items, quite outstanding ones, but still. Things I could, if I wanted to, find in one of those crappy stores selling cheap costumes, but I just want it to look right. And a little eye-catching perhaps. I know it's silly, but this will be my first Halloween as a Satanist and according to their bible it's the one holiday to be celebrated. I've always loved this holiday and so I thought, why not actually go out as something a little less boring than a vampire or zombie?

I’ve been planning on making something for Halloween all summer, even if it meant I was just gonna stalk the streets in Hemse wearing it. If I could just get it right... need to buy some light steel wires/net or something for my next part of the project. And lots of more fabric. It would have been neat with thin, smooth leather, but I haven't found any such. All they have on this island is rough sheep skins the farmers themselves fixed up, and that won't do. So I’ll just go for fabric that might resemble it a little. Maybe I’ll even mix up different materials... ah, the ideas are many! It's amazing what you can make out of simple pieces of cloth you have lying around in the house, if you just put your mind to it. Though I’m running out of such items, and I can't trash any more clothes for that purpose either.

I’m high on caffeine. Gulped down three large cans of energy drinks since midnight. If it wasn't for them I would not be awake by now. Sometimes when I’ve forgot to drink for a little while the tiredness comes right back at me, and I desperately drink half a can to “shape up” again. Oh, this week... it's been a whole week now, can you imagine? I don't know if it's worth any sort of comfort or anything, but just so you know, it's not a game or a world record competition for me to stay awake. Seriously don't know where that idea came from. It's an endless chase from an irrational fear that is somehow connected to my sleep. That's as much as I know at the moment.

(This is why self psycho-analysis is so addictive: it gives results.)

I keep mistaking objects in my apartment for cats. I wanna paint my nails, but I wanna finish my crafting first. Can't do that with newly painted nails. Oh well, I suppose I’ve got all night for that... but now the anxiety is starting to catch up with me again, at every time a day I went up last time. Now it was almost two nights ago I got up from bed, and the anxiety hits me again, counting the days and hours of awaken time passed. Cause I know that the longer I stay awake, the harder it will be to not fall asleep. I’ve been having such awful anxiety around midnight almost every night this week, cause that is when it hits me. When I have been awake for 18-23 or 42-47 hours and the tiredness hits me in the face and I feel like I can't stay up any longer. The feeling is so powerful, it's like it eats me alive. And I don't even know what it is I fear so badly I’ve been popping Zyprexa like a maniac just to stop hyperventilating and the feeling of being close to fainting. Feelings like that shouldn't come unnoticed.

At least now I know what I’m dealing with, approximately what it is I fear. But how the hell can one be afraid of sleeping?! Isn't that against human nature or something? Well, all of me is apparently in some way or another against human nature... though at least I’m not the only one with this particular problem. Just hoping my doctors will take me seriously this time. Not just the obvious sleep deprivation issue, but the fear that lies behind it. Cause it doesn't matter what pills they give me for my sleep when I won't even take them.

I feel like a train of misery, passing or picking up every nasty experience I come by.

I live just a website away

Okay... so I had 8 followers on tumblr just yesterday, now they are 28... and a picture I posted of myself has gotten 55 notes! Not sure how that happened, but you should have seen my face when I noticed! Like woah! I don't even post that much stuff myself, but mostly just reblog what the ones I follow upload. Did I mention that I love that website? Kinda need to say it again! My sister has a blog there somewhere, or at least I think she said that a while ago, and I’ve been meaning to ask her if I could follow her there. But I never see her nowadays and I don't even know if I would want to have any contact with her online.

I live on the internet! At least that's what it feels like. I'm not addicted to it, I moved into it. Facebook is my kitchen, tumblr is my living room, Dayviews is my bathroom and the rest are my bedroom which I don't visit that often. I sit by my computer with Firefox constantly on display every waken hour. Well, I do embroider or draw a little now and then, but take breaks for smoking and then I’m back by the screen. Oh, what a life... but considering how single tracked or dull it might seem, I’m never bored. Never, ever bored. My secret? I'm insane! Okay, not exactly a secret, but that's what's keeping me busy. All the million thoughts, undefinable emotions, hallucinations, delusions, psycho-analysing, anxiety and self harm.

Satan really does answer to my every prayer! I appreciate it very much, but it is a little creepy. Well, we all know about the first one when he saved my life in late June, and the second time I asked him for how long I'm going to live and I got the answer “for three or four years from now”. Now that one I can't know if it's real or not though, not yet anyway. But then again a few days ago I asked him if he could perhaps give my crush a little nudge in my direction but I didn't receive an answer, until later. He told me that I can nudge my crush myself, I don't need divine powers for that! As for the next one, I prayed yesterday and asked him to help me get through this tough period I’m having right now. Today I feel a lot better. Like I can eat and sleep again and don't have so much dark thoughts. I just know he's got something to do with that too!

So this is how I will know if a prayer is worth saying or not: if it's something I can do for myself, he won't bother doing it for me, no matter how much I’d rather he did. If it's a question, I can get a straight answer right away (though that is the part where I might be hallucinating). This is so fascinating! I really picked the right religion, I know it, and I’m gonna keep babbling about it, so get used to it.

Between living and dying

I'm not technically suicidal, but I don't know really what I am. Is my life worth living? No, but I just don't care about that. Live or die, who gives a fuck? If it was a term for it, maybe I’m passive-apathetically suicidal. That I wouldn't be upset but rather welcome it if I would die today, but I won't and that's fine with me. I don't try suicide, I just don't try living. I'm somewhere between living and dying. Let's keep it that way. It's better than actually being suicidal.

I’m starting to get a little better, I think. Was only up for 20 something hours until last night, fell asleep and slept heavily for 24 hours. Got seven missed calls from the crew this morning when they tried to reach me, and I just slept it through. And I’m eating again, or well at least one normal meal a day. Still gulping coffee like an obsessed and cutting just as much. Not so much hallucinations lately, just vague things flickering in the corner of my eye, and my vision is acting weird in another way. I lose focus completely sometimes, everything gets blurry and my eyes move like some sort of awake REM-thing going on, but just for a few seconds.

So I’m obviously not fine by far, just a little less of a mess. When did this start? I can't remember the date. A day or two after I fixed my hair, was that Thursday? Well, it didn't “just start” but I think it was after that I was awake for 40 hours or whatever how long it was. It seems I have some sort of two days limit when it comes to how long I can stay awake for. After that I have to push it, and don't ask me why I’d wanna do that. I just get weird ideas every now and then for no reason. Sometimes it really is that simple: There is no reason behind it. I'm like: “I have an awesome idea!” and then Anna says with a sigh: “Why would you wanna do that for?” and I'm like: “I have no idea!”

It's the same with my cutting. People often ask me what triggers me or why I do it. Not altogether, but why this laceration, why this moment? I don't usually know what that supposed trigger is. For some reason I just get the idea into my head and then I do it. It's a little like when you want to have candy. You don't really need a trigger or a specific reason to have a sudden craving for candy, it just comes to you.

Wake up, your world is just an illusion

I fell asleep and slept for 9 hours. Now I feel even worse than when I went to bed. I hate how I always feel right after waking up. Like drowning, sedated, hurting, clogged throat and nose. It took five minutes for my eyes to get used to the light from the computer screen.

I've been thinking about what wrote this morning, about opening up about the hallucinations to my shrink, and what a relief it would be to get that out and get help for it. But I’m also stupid and vain, thinking I wouldn't wanna take antipsychotics for the single reason that almost all of them cause weight gain, and increases my appetite. Risperdal also took away my creativity. I don't know, but it could be worth a try, and maybe I could just ask to get the pills without spilling my guts? But how the hell did I think that could work? Can't just go there and say “Hey, I want some antipsychotics! I'm not psychotic or anything, but I want the pills for it!”

No, that won't work. Lying always entangles me into more lies, but I can't think of anything to say in that case. You give antipsychotics to people who are psychotic and that's it. And I’m starting to give up believing I could somehow get better without treating this broken part of my mind as much as the for stuff that I’m being open about. How can I learn how to think more positive or controlling my emotions when the voices are constantly disturbing and hallucinations and delusions controls my emotions? How can I get better when I don't know what is real?

I’m not doing well at all, and I have to figure out a way to deal with it. Figure out if this is worth the risk. Cause somehow I think reality is again catching up with me, leaving me with two yet no choices. If I keep being quiet I will be able to get the surgery and the ones following and eventually get my gender changed legally – but if I keep on lying I won't get any better, thus I won't get mentally stable enough to go through with that. Who does major surgery on a psychotic person who can't sleep or eat? The other choice is to confess and risk everything. But I’m sure that once that's sorted out they will still know I’m truly transsexual and really need the treatment for that, but it might take a little longer. Thus that is the only choice I have, cause I can't just get better on my own. If I don't actually get better on my own that is.

Cause maybe, just maybe things will get back to normal (my normal, the usual me) again once I get to sleep and eat again, and stop OD'ing on caffeine. But a part of me doubts that. This has been going on all summer and late spring, I had a psychosis under the most stable week during this time, a week I didn't drink or cut, I ate healthy and slept healthy. I’m constantly balancing on the edge between reality and psychosis, and I self diagnosed myself as Schizophrenic for a reason. It's not something I want or wish that I had, far from it. It's a conclusion of past and current experiences. And then we have my undying curiosity for getting to the bottom of this and once and for all finding out what it really is. 

*title: Pretentious, Moi?

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.