Desperately holding on

So, I wrote a very suicidal poem last night that I didn't post anywhere. Was thinking people would get worried then. I care too much and don't want the cops calling me again. They freak me out, man.

Anyway, I'm feeling slightly better right now, although I refrain from saying "today" cause I'm most likely gonna fall with the sun later on, as I usually do.

I don't even know if I'm light or dark anymore. Maybe one or the other, or neither, I don't know. It feels like I'm just fragmented and nothing adds to the whole. I'm sweating and slightly shaking and I can't control it. So, not entirely fine. But am I ever?

It's 39 days and I'm scared of trying to contact K again. Afraid of what he might say. I'm thinking I'll wait until the weekend, if I can. Just holding on to my false hopes for as long as I can, they're slipping away and that fast.

Hopefully I can hold on a little longer, or either thing will kill me. Because I can't stand the silence or face it, I'm locked between two choices again and I refuse to choose. I try to let time choose for me, but either way, I'm scared of dying all too soon.

I couldn't tell my contact person yesterday, about that I think I'll die either way. Or any way, for that matter. Maybe they should just lock me up for some time so that I can continue living. Cause I want to live, and for once, I'm deliberately holding on to my prophecy, because I'd much rather die in two years than in two weeks.

It's that soon, or maybe in just a few days. My heart is racing fast just thinking about it, it knows it's dying, but desperately tries to hold on. And I'll fight with every power in me to not commit suicide, cause I do want to live, just a little longer, I'm scared and I'm not ready.

I want a baby, I don't want to die. So don't then. I know you're thinking it, but in that case I don't think you understand. That my feelings for K are so strong I can't possibly fathom them, they can drive me to suicide without warning. It would be impulsive, and I'm scary and crazy with the impulses.

And I have to choose. To either never speak to him again, never know, but let time slowly kill me - or to talk to him to find out exactly why he's stopped talking to me, and that truth might kill me too. I'm not strong enough for this, I really really don't handle rejection well. In fact, I don't handle it at all.

But if my prophecy is true, I can't die from this, I suddenly realise. Then it will either go to hell and almost lead me to suicide, but I'll survive, or it will go fine. Or something in between, I don't know. All I know is that K is the love of my life and I've made a promise, an oath, to never fall for someone else like this again.

Then true love is not for me and I'd do anything to try and accept that, cause I'm not gonna hurt myself again like this. I won't fall in love again. I might end up in relationships, but I'd never truly give them my heart. Because ten times is enough, whether I live or die from this.

But I hope, for once in my life, that the prophecy is true. I hold on to it, because it is better to die in two years than the next week or so. That's my suicide thoughts of today, or for now. That's how I see it. That I'm scared and believe it could happen soon but I don't want it to. Suicide, is it in my hands, or out of them? Is it all just fate, impulsion, or do I have any say in it?

My life is slipping away with all my hopes and dreams, and it's getting harder to hold on. All I have is my mortal fear and wishing for a sodding chance to have a life. I'm just 25 years old and I don't want to die. Not because of K, that would be terrible. How my heart can be so controlling, it completely drowns me in feelings I cannot fathom. I'll hold on to wanting a child even if K doesn't ever want me, I'll hold on to the future that I still dream of, I'll hold on to... something, anything.

Hell is living without you

This joyride cannot last if I can't find a way to hold on to it. It's been two months and all I do is sit on my ass cause I'm afraid I'll break down again if I got up. And I don't know what I want to do. I'm afraid that I might not want anything at all. There's the war in my heart as well, that as long as my only wish is to be with K it's not gonna be easy to find something else to aim for, if you know what I mean.

I've been in this situation before, when all I see is that one person and they are my whole world. Blinded, so totally blinded by love for someone who is or might as well be unobtainable. If only I lived closer, then it would be easier. Even if he isn't interested, it would be easier still. Easier to meet, to talk and to know where things are going.

This is more like an internet crush, just that "crush" isn't exactly the right word for how I feel. But living so far away, it's not like I'm in love with someone I can just meet to hang out with on a Wednesday afternoon for a chat and a coffee or whatever. We can't even meet up as friends, class mates or colleagues, go partying together or just pass each other by on a street on our separate ways to somewhere.

I'm locked inside my computer. Cause no matter where he is, I know he always comes back online and there is where I am. And there I always am, staring at his pictures, waiting, hoping, dreaming, longing. I can never be further, I can never be closer.

So how much of a chance could I really have? My dream would be a long distance relationship, or that I could move in with him or he moves in with me. Probably that I would move in with him, since I don't really have any connections here on Gotland, but then he would have to take care of me cause I'm in need of LSS and that crap which I won't be likely to get in Stockholm over night. I've always wanted to live in Stockholm, by the way. The big city where everything happens. Where he is.

Yes, I've thought about that too. But my dream is killing me. I don't like dreaming, I hate dreaming, cause the dreams never come true. They are just painful, haunting me like a cruel joke. It's a curse, dreaming. I learned that from early on, that dreams can only be shattered, but I can't stop. I love him so damn much it's just not true, how can it be? I don't even know him that well. I don't understand my complicated heart, it just does whatever it wants and it always gets me into trouble. But I would do anything to be with him, anything.

I would leave this wonderful apartment that I can almost call my home in a heartbeat, I would stop being a Satanist, I would spend all the money I have, I would move to another country or I would even quit smoking for good. I'm not just throwing around those words, I know what they mean, I know what I mean. How much he means to me. He is my world.

I just remembered, that when I started to fall for him last spring, and knew I couldn't resist anymore. The thoughts of him steadily increased and after several tries of not falling in love with him I asked myself: wouldn't life be a little better if I was in love?

Worth living for

I wish the crew would stop complimenting my hair. Seriously, they've been doing that almost constantly from when I started bleaching it in January. Sure I like getting a compliment every so often, but this is getting ridiculous. What are they trying to achieve? Making me indescribably happy?

I started to scratch myself uncontrollably under the bandage early this morning, half not aware of what I was doing. Not supposed to do that, and I know that in an awaken state, but it's different when I'm half asleep.

I do all sorts of things that I wouldn't normally do then. It's strange, but also understandable. That I'm less inhibited in a way. But it's annoying when I do things that might interfere with the healing process.

My muscles are sore after yesterday's work out. It's annoying and the part I dislike most about exercising. Not quite enjoying it the way most people seem to do. So I'm gonna take it easy today, just gonna have a little walk soon enough. Need to buy vegetables, bread and cigarettes. Mostly it hurts in my shoulders and arms, so a walk couldn't possibly hurt. Not that it would either way though.

But despite the pain it still feels good to finally have gotten myself to the gym. Only took me about three years... Seriously, I think the last time I set my foot in such a place was in Gottsunda during 2011. But then I lived in my parents' house for a year after that, and there were no gyms or likewise facilities nearby. And then I just talked about it for almost two years.

I really hope I'll keep this up now and not get lazy again. As of now my motivation is on top, but of course it can change with time. So hoping it won't. I just won't allow myself to give up again, cause I so need to live now. More than just being alive, I need to actually live my life. It would be so pointless otherwise. Like just wasting air instead of using it, or taking up space instead of needing it.

Living without hopes must be the most painful thing I've ever experienced. What people say isn't possible, that you'd always have hopes left if you're still breathing, but it's not true. I'm living proof that isn't true. But now I have hopes, lots of hopes and dreams and goals in life. Still scared to fail them, still overly cautious about them and always watching my step so that I won't shatter them. But they keep me alive, cause now I depend on them.

Changes

Slept fairly well tonight. Apart from the dreams about embarrassing conversations, illegal immigrants, molested nuns and a guy torturing someone.

So how long am I gonna have nightmares for? It feels like I don't really get any rest from sleeping, like I wake up exhausted in need for some real rest. Though I know that they reflect the fears that I carry. Fears for the present and the future.

What are my fears? I'm not sure. But I think it's about the complications after my surgery, of not passing, of never being able to be anywhere close to happy, about dying. Those are the general, I suppose. The biggest fears that haunt me today.

Anxiety about what may or may not happen. How things will turn out and how long it's gonna take, what is out of my power. I rarely fear what is in my power to change, things that I can change. I'm willing to change now, just give me the possibility to do that.

It's like I think I have the means, but not able to use them. Like I know what to do but have to wait until I can do it. The thought has occurred to me, that maybe I'm willing to take the risks and start anyway, without waiting. Cause I've waited too damn long already.

We'll see what I'll do, if I can figure it out. Cause I've gotta change, while the energy is still in me, before I collapse and give up again. I don't want to allow that to happen, but it's not that simple. It just happens, you know. And I want to remember this year as the year when I finally turned things around. Yes, this year, not the next or the one after that.

If that means beating odds or risking things, I don't care. So be it. There are always risks, with everything that is worth fighting for. But is my life worth fighting for? Well, technically it's the only thing I have to fight for, and that's enough of a reason. I'm done waiting.

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.

Losing you

It's like I've lost a part of myself, when I lose myself completely and can't find my way back without guidance. Maybe not even with, cause maybe there is no way back. I look at him and I wonder. For the first time, a thought slipped into my head: why can't I stop loving you? I've never wanted that, I didn't think that I did. Perhaps the pain is finally exceeding what is wonderful about it.

And now as I see clear, or clearer at least, I think new insights are possible. That I'm not so blinded anymore. The risk of becoming "safe" with emotions is that they may fade. I don't want them to fade, it would be like losing you. Though I never had you to begin with, and with no intention of owning you, it still feels like I'm losing you somehow. When in fact, I'm only losing some of those feelings. I hope not, I want to cling to them, I need to whether I'd like to or not.

I have to because they are my life force now and they always were. That thing that I wrote earlier about them being essential for my survival. And even though I'm much stronger now, I can't take the risk. I may fear the weirdest things, but I think I have good reasons to. Past experiences, for instance.

Though I didn't die last time, it was a hell to get through and I know I did everything wrong, but I did what I could at the time being. I might as well have died, you know. Cause something inside me did. It was like a part of my soul was brutally ripped out at the same time as my heart was broken. When suicide was the only option. Five times I tried, but I don't know, it was like I gave up after that. Like I just understood that it was out of my power, that I couldn't control destiny or what happened to me. In the past or the future. The destiny that I never wanted to believe in, cause it was so cruel.

That little relapse into the suicidal drama I had last summer really had nothing to do with love. It was only fear, and I tried to escape a horrible future. I was in love already, as I clinged to his picture and hesitated to mention him in my suicide letter. Thinking I didn't want him to know if I died, that it would put a terrible burden and sorrow on his part. I'm considerate that way.

No, it's like love is my drug to survival, ironically. Cause it's also my ticket to death, but it's two sides of a coin, you know. I think a lot of things work that way, that you can always turn them up-side-down and they become their opposite. The cure becomes a poison so easily. Love is so fragile that way, I've come to realise. And dreams are too.

So what can I do, but to hope that my love for him won't become my poison? I still have so much to learn, and I want to know about the good sides of love. I crave it so intensively, but all I've ever had are impossible dreams and chanceless hopes. Hence why I almost always tag these kind of entries with both "hope" and "hopelessness" cause it's always a sting of both.

Yeah, I feel as though I will never experience that. True love. Cause no matter who I fall in love with it's always the wrong person, cause either they have the wrong sexual orientation or they're already seeing someone or they live 100 miles away. Or heck, why not all three for a change?

No, I will never fall in love again. If that means cutting myself off from humanity all together, then so be it. I've had enough of unrequited love for a lifetime or maybe even two. I don't even know for sure if this is unrequited, I leave that option open for just a little longer. Cause you never know until you know. And I don't know, not for sure. The problem is though that I don't want to know. It is not an option that I want to cross over on my pending list of eternal doom, you know what I'm saying?

Perhaps I'm not so clear in all my scribbles sometimes, I can get a little fast with the keyboard sometimes, now when I write as fast in English as in Swedish it can get kinda wild. What I meant is that if he was to tell me it's never gonna happen, I'm sure that I will fall and I won't be coming back. Ever. That last fall which of course will be both figuratively and literally meant and I will make sure I won't survive it. Jump high enough and there will be nothing left but meat loaf. But enough about my wild fantasies, which I shouldn't share that often, it's creepy.

So yeah... I'm planning my own death but at the same time I don't want to do it. It's just that I know that it has to be done. That there is no ther way. And I hope that I won't need to in a very long time, but I don't think it will be in such a long time. I've been keeping that part from my shrinks, but only because I don't want to be marked off as another hopeless case. I know I need whatever help they can give me in the form of pills and meetings. And I've been meaning to take up that dealing with past traumas kinda shit, but I just can't muster it. It's tearing me apart just thinking about it, so how the hell can I bring it up? And no, I can't tell my mother to tell them, cause I can't muster that either. One day... one day I might.

I got off track, sorry. I just can't find a way to finish this entry, cause there is no finish, there is no punch line. It just goes on and on and sometimes on hold and sometimes stronger, but it never ends. Maybe all I can say is that love will tear me apart, one day or another.

Wishes and wisdom

I just saw this episode of Torchwood, one of them that I remembered most vividly from the first time I saw the whole series. In that episode there's a device that can show you glimpses of the past, the future or your own death. It just shook me so strongly this time, something Jack said, but I can't remember it now. I remember thinking that was a cool device to have first time I saw that episode years ago, but now... all I could think of is all the despair such a device could bring mankind.

Perhaps I am too old for this young body, cause I always seem to recognise myself the most in fictive characters who are way old, immortal. Characters like Jack Harkness, vampires, wizards, ghosts and so on. I don't even know if I'm that wise or anything, it's more of a vague sensation. That I know stuff I'm not supposed to, like I know too much, about things a 24 year old shouldn't.

I wouldn't consider myself that old, not in my mind at least. It's more like I've transcended age completely and now I'm neither young nor old, beyond time. And maybe that's why I my conception of time is so fucked up, why I take things so slow and can keep calm in situations others panic over. It's like I just know without knowing what it is that I know; does that make any sort of sense at all? That things will sort themselves out eventually and turn out the way they're supposed to, no matter what you do.

Those things that I know I don't know how to share, because either no one's listening, or it's something they have to find out for themselves. Mostly it's the latter, and some things I don't want anyone else to find out. Not that I want to keep anyone in the dark about it, it's just that it's most likely too much to handle. You know I've been struggling with it. The meaning of life, how I'm gonna die, things about how time works, memories from past lives and so on.

I'm divided, if I would want to keep my knowledge as it is or to never have gained it in the first place. It's an awful burden, yet a wonderful gift. Not very comforting and terribly upsetting. But also an asset and helpful in understanding the world and to accept it as it is.

Some things I have already accepted. Like that life is unfair and that I can't possibly stop myself from killing myself that one day when it will happen, hopefully far in the future. So yeah, I think I have accepted my self fulfilling prophecy, cause there's really no way around it. Somedays it's hard though, thinking that it's like I'm trapped in a maze with only one horrible way out of it. Cause how can I make myself die in another manner than suicide? I can't. My fate is sealed. So why not accept it?

I'm finally gonna try and live my life to the fullest at the best of my ability. I'm gonna get my gender reassigned legally, finish writing my autobiography, change the way I look, get my damn tattoos even if I'll need to steal money to afford them, drive a car, travel to London and all the little things on that endless list of things to do before I die.

Everyone should do that, no matter if you are/think you are going to die sooner than you hope for or not. Everyone should try their best to live their lives to the fullest. I'll hit you if you don't agree with me on that point! I just hope I'll actually do it this time, but I think so, cause never before has it felt this real. The cruelty of the prophecy and the vitality of life itself awakening within me. I think it's a good balance, as good as it can get. That I want to live and that more than ever, at the same time as I'm terrified to die before I'm done living, if you know what I mean. Life and death is cruel and unfair, but I can't let that ruin me. I can hope and dream, carefully so, but I can't change what's beyond me.

I just hope that I'll be able to continue like this, with this urge in me to change things to the better, with a will to live instead of just a will to escape anything related to living in the real world. Just wish that I won't fall back into the darkness.

Maybe

I want to be with him, but will I ever? Will I ever? It's the question that only one answer will suffice for. One, not the other. I don't even want to imagine the devastation it would bring me if the answer is "no". And still it hangs in the air, the only answer I have that isn't actually an answer. That "maybe" is the only thing I cling to.

A simple maybe to answer all of my questions regarding him. The void it leaves me, like a shallow breath that neither warms or feels cold. Like a space between time and room, perfectly still.

What is it to hold on to? The resemblance of an answer, something not completely whole, so fragile yet unbreakable. Like a soap bubble it is, perfect in it's own atmosphere, but so easily breaks. But it cannot break by its own, because only the real answer can.

A maybe is like a middle ground, it is safe between yes and no, because it leaves all the doors open. But with a maybe you get nowhere. Stranded in that safety, it won't get you anywhere. And I'm lost in it, I lose myself in it on purpose because I'm afraid of choice. Most of all I'm afraid of the choice another person has to make. What I cannot control, and I sit patiently and wait. Waiting for what may never happen just because I'm too afraid to act.

Things fall into place

My mother just called me and said she had talked to the team in Huddinge about getting a next meeting with them by the summer. I didn't really think about it, but I'm soon done with this journey. Gonna think a bit about if I should get sterilised too and remove all that junk inside me, but then I'm pretty much done.

Cause yeah, I have thought about getting bottom surgery, but honestly I don't think I need it. I don't really have dysphoria about my junk and it's not like it's something I show around, so to say. It stays in the private and I'm okay with what I have. And besides, it's a bit unnecessary to have surgery if it's not all that important.

So then it's just to report to Rättsliga Rådet and hope they'll accept me to have my sex legally changed and those last four digits in my personal identity number changed as well. Damn. I've been in this mix for so long I had almost lost hope in ever getting done with it!

I remember when I went to a meeting with the team in Uppsala for the first time and had got the information that it would take bout 2-3 years altogether before I can become legally male. Now here I am 4 and a half years later and can't really believe it. I had lost hope to ever come this far more times than I can count and my life depends on it.

I'm starting to feel free in a whole new way. To talk with the deep voice I always wanted, to feel the beard growth that came along just about ten years too late, to be referred to as "he" and it still brings a special kind of smile to my lips, when people think it's obvious that I'm a guy, just that I don't have to bleed once every month which brought a terrible dysphoria every single time, and now when I soon won't need to hide my chest and feeling that constant discomfort ruining everything.

That relief, it's like coming home, to a place that I no longer hate. I don't hate myself and I don't hate my body. I might hate my fucked up mind from time to time, but that's another story. Today it doesn't suck being transsexual, it's a part of me, of who I was, and I will soon be able to put that behind me and just be me. Your typical goth, gay, mentally fucked up guy with a colourful past. It does sound good in my ears, comparing to how I would describe myself before.

To be perfectly honest, I sometimes asked myself just why this is so important to me, just knowing that it's the foundation that I stand on. With so many other problems still making it impossible for me to live a normal life, no matter if I have tits or not. But now I so clearly understand.

I might still be a dark chaos, but I stand more firmly on the ground with it. And I have a chance to give life a try. Now I can finally start working towards living a decent life. I finally have a reason to live. And that is a lot. Happy tears coming now...

A new beginning

After the first night at home, and I'm constantly worried that I will pull some stitches or something. The night went fine though it hurt a bit when I shifted position so I didn't shift position much at all. Will lie on my other side next night.

I got some painkillers also, by the way. Sweet opioids. That is what you make morphine of, or in this case something called oxikodon, and I'm supposed to take them for moderate to severe pain. It's mostly for cancer patients, according to the information in the box.

Well, I'll be using them carefully to avoid getting addicted or "used to it", however you'd like to put it. I took one before I went to bed last night, cause it hurts more when I try to fall asleep. The pressure to the wounds and not finding a good position tend to make it a bit uncomfortable, and I do have sleeping problems already, so. But otherwise, when I'm sitting here by the computer I barely even notice the pain. It's there, kinda at the same degree as my headache, but it doesn't bother me that much. It helps being still, of course. Though I should probably move around a little bit. Maybe take a five minute walk around the house or something.

I still can't really believe it, that it's actually done. When you've been waiting for something to happen for a long time with anticipation, it might take a while to get that it's finally over, all that waiting. I'm a little like that now, like "is it real? I mean really, really real?" As the physical pain increases, the mental pain decreases. Get used to me ranting about this for some time now, cause I will have a lot of thoughts to share, whether you wanna hear it or not.

Luck and chance

I don't know why I let other people's problems get to me. I have enough problems already. I'm always annoyed with people nowadays. Never compassionate, sympathetic, empathetic or any of those fancy words. Not the slightest glimpse of care. I've gone bitter and selfish. Don't care about anyone's well being except for His. My love, and only him. It's like everyone else have just faded into the shadow, and I walk away from them.

But I'm in his shadow. I'm lingering, just close enough to be noticed, but never too close to a bother. I've been cast into a land of shadows. Cloaking my vision, this lovesickness has impaired me even more. I'm living for that impossible dream, for hopes that will probably never come true. Not in this life, not in this reality.

It's tearing me down, just a little more each time. The smallest thing can make me fly or fall apart, but for every fall I break a little more. I think a miracle needs to happen if I should survive this. I'm waiting, just waiting for something to happen. At this point I don't care which. Die or live, I cannot choose. So I let fate decide it for me. Roll the dice and wish me luck.

Like I said to my mother the other day, about my sleep and all. I said: "I don't want to be awake and I don't want to sleep, so I let my medication decide it for me". It's like I'm on life support, like I wouldn't survive without all those components that keep me together. Pills, psychiatric care, the crew, my parents, my love. Cause the truth is that I don't live for anything: I'm simply alive because of these things.

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"

This awful year 2013

This year has been awful. Overwhelming, pitiful, tedious, dark and filled with sadness. But also happiness, small glimpses of fulfilment and friendship, but mostly a whole lot of disaster. It started off bad, as I tried to study at Folkhögskolan here in Hemse and failed miserably. I damaged my knee seemingly permanently and started isolating myself again.

DBT went horrible as I started that soon after I left the school in February or March, I felt painfully alienated in the small group and my cheating on the diagnostic tests for Borderline Personality Disorder started to unravel. I started taking hormones again on my own in early summer/late spring and unleashed a disastrous chaos I had never seen a likeness of before that would come to last for several months.

After that I fell in love, and soon became painfully lovesick all the while the stagnation in the psychiatric departments led me to several suicide attempts during the two weeks I spent in a psych ward during Midsummer. I was also mute for a day in there. Then came alcoholism, increased smoking, caffeine addiction, starvation, more extensive self harm and sleeping disorders.

I got scared of sleeping and avoided it at all costs, then I made it a game in trying to stay awake for as long as I could. Somewhere in that mess I managed to get to the main country to visit my friends in Uppsala and Stockholm, for about a week. Adding to all that I've had four psychotic episodes and got more imaginary people living in my head.

Yeah, it hasn't been a very good year. I sure haven't been bored much though. It's always something going on in this mess of a brain I carry around wherever I go. It's like I do nothing but taking it easy and trying to relax and taking things slow - but yet I'm still constantly stressed out, tensed up and on my guard. My own mind stresses me to the brink of how much I can handle. Sometimes it pushes me over the edge and gives me too much. I've never been very good at living, but seeing as I'm still here after this horrible year, I'd say I'm pretty good at surviving.

Love is death

Once again my feelings are killing me, but I hold them back as much as I can, to stop myself from doing something incredibly stupid. But I know that if this won't make me give up, once and for all, I must really be holding on to life this time. But I don't even know why I hold on. When I don't even think anything good will come out of it. I've fallen in love with misery. Isn't it tragic that such a thing had to happen for me to want to stay alive? Maybe I don't even want to be happy, and that's what makes me a hopeless case. But I'm not a case, I'm a person.

So used to being broken, that the thought of not being broken is so far away I can't even imagine it if I try my best. Why should I even? Imagining a life I can never have is like imagining being someone else. Cause I can never be someone else, it's so pointless to dream. Have I finally learned that now? Or will I keep repeating it for as long as I'm alive? I hope that I will have learned it. I'm so tired of making the same mistakes over and over.

I'm so tired of repeating this mistake I promised not to do again. How could I once think that love would heal me, it's done nothing but hurt me. Love is death, it will be the end of me. I just know it. For I promised myself to never fall in love again, and this is where it has led me to. How can emotions be so dangerous? It's just a feeling. The emotions themselves are probably not so dangerous, but when they lead to total self destruction, they are.

My hopes are slipping away, like sand between my fingers. Desperately I try to hold on, clinging to every grain. They're dissolving, evaporating, and blowing away in the wind. I desperately try not to cry, to not let it devour me. One of my worst fears, but it was so likely to happen, and maybe that was why I feared it so much. Yet it isn't too late, it doesn't have to be the end of me. I've seen this happen before, it can still take another turn. It's not impossible. Yet I can't bear it.

This weight in my heart is just too heavy, but the numbness is keeping me alive. I force this sadness and hopelessness down, shove it down back the way it came from. I won't be able to much longer though. Sooner or later it will break out in full strength, and when it does... I don't know, I don't want to think about it. I'll probably tear the place down, I'll probably scream and cry my heart out and tear myself to pieces. But for now I drink my tea and smoke my cigarettes, I'm doing okay.

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.

My last dance

My love is constantly on my mind tonight and the day that just passed. His existence has brought me hopelessness, heartache, jealousy and bitter joy, hope, longing, wishing, missing, dreaming. I'm cold and I constantly forget why, then I remember, and forget it again. Not even he can keep me warm, not from all these miles away. Every increasing thought make me feel like I'm drowning in despair. It hurts so bad tonight and I've lost myself in a distorted paradise of a future that will never exist. A slowly shattering dream that will never be. I need to hold on, not let it break me. Not yet!

Preparing for the worst isn't even an option, cause how does one prepare for death? Oh yeah, I've been doing that all my life, so what's the point really? I don't wanna think about it but the thoughts invade me and fucks with my mind. One of those things I just can't seem to be able to control and I don't think I ever will. I need to keep believing that it could one day become true, that I will finally know what being happy is like. Just once.

I need it for this life to ever become meaningful and worth living for. For all the love that I've ever felt that has choked me for so long and so many times to ever have meant anything.

Do you understand? If I won't ever experience mutual love in a good relationship everything I've ever felt for any romantic interest will have been for nothing. All this searing pain and hopelessness for absolutely nothing but pain and hopelessness. I can't bear that thought. Something good has to come out of it and this is my last chance. My last dance. Cause if I fall to pieces again I won't be able to continue. I'll shut the doors forever.

Maybe this is just nonsense. Have I ever been able to predict the future? Perhaps not, but one thing that I know for sure is: every time it's stronger, heavier, more powerful and painful than ever before. And the last time I was this fucking close to actually die because of it. I may not be a seer, but I know there's only so much you can take. Even I can't conceive of just how much I love him, but these feelings are beyond doubt something I have never felt before. I'll wait for him, and I'll continue waiting for as long as I can take this.

I've never had the patience and will to wait for someone like this before. Passively looking over my shoulder to see if anything has changed, keeping my distance further than I need and closer than I dare. Cautiously waiting for something that will most likely never happen. And shallowly walk in his foot steps miles away, pretending I just want to be his friend.

Incomplete

Thought I'm gonna start having some light work out on my living room carpet as my "next step" or what to say. The first step was taking walks daily, which I have now for a few weeks. So... time to go a little harder on myself. And taking a few minutes a day to do some sit-ups or whatever I can think of seems like a reasonable suggestion. So that's what I'm gonna (try to) do for a while from now on.

I guess I'm dragging it out, going to the gym. There are people there! Staring at me! While I'm sweating my ass off lifting 2 kg dumb-bells! So maybe I wanna get in shape before I dare to show my face in the place I'll go to to get in shape. Just until I'm fit enough to be considered "normal" rather than a disabled couch-potato. Celebrating my first actual work out since 2010, with extra lots of caffeine and some chain smoking.

I did some measurements, just to see where I am right now, or something. I think my ass might have gotten smaller, which would be awesome if that's the case! On the other hand, I couldn't help but checking if my future surgeon was right about me having a C-cup and started googling bra size calculators. Now I'm choking on my cigarette smoke cause all those websites say that my size doesn't exist! It's kinda funny. By the way, I think that surgeon was wrong, I'm way smaller than that. Just that I'm fat doesn't equal a bigger cup size, which he'd oughta know. Oh well... Can't wait to get that flattened out.

No really, I can't wait! Damn how long is this gonna take!? They said "this year" but it's already November, and unless they're planning on giving me surgery as a Christmas gift (which would be nice, for that matter), it's most likely not gonna happen this year. I wonder what the problem is. They declared me healthy as a horse and that I'm fit enough for it, so what's the damn deal?! Urghh... seems like I've done nothing but waiting for so long now. Will it ever happen? A part of me thinks that it will never happen. I'm gonna die incomplete.

Yeah, I feel incomplete. Disorganised, wrong, broken. I need to fix this. This is one of few things, perhaps even the only thing that can be fixed out of everything that is wrong with me. And maybe that is one of the reasons I find it to be so very important. I can do something about my body, it's fixable. It won't be perfect, but it will be better. And maybe someday I can look in the mirror and not feel this awful self hatred and disgust. It's not about passing, and I don't really have a problem showing myself to others. It's about living in this skin every day for the rest of my life.

Sometimes I think it's good that I get cold so easily, with my sort of impossibly low body temperature (35,5 celcius degrees) cause I get to hide under layers of clothing all year around. I don't have to wear a binder under a t-shirt, double hoodies and a morning robe cause nothing is gonna show anyway. All the clothes hide my curves and all that which I hate. I hide it from myself. That's right, I feel the most need to hide my body when I'm all alone in my apartment. Outside, whether going to the grocery store or a night club, I feel safe dressed up nicely and even wearing make up. But when there's no one around, that is when the anxiety hits the hardest.

Trying not to drown

I'd rather be alone, than with anyone else than him. God, I'm so pathetic... how did I get this way? I promised not to fall in love, but I did it anyway. I tried for a while, I really did, but it was harder to not love him than it is to love him.

It's been getting worse lately. The feelings are more often overwhelming, and it's hard focusing on anything else. I do try though... sometimes. Other times it's just easier to wallow in the emotions, for some reason.

I'm drifting in and out of various states of apathy, longing, hopelessness, wanting, lack of appetite, some appetite, sleeplessness, sorrow, greed, wishing and hoping. I want those feelings to go away but I don't know what I want to feel instead. Some things I just can't get. His love in return, feeling complete, loved, appreciated, beautiful and content with myself and the life I live. That's never gonna happen, so I suppose I'm trying to make the best of what I do have in a bizarre, potentially fatal way.

Giving in... that has never been a good thing to do when it comes to my decisions in life. That's what has lead me to addictions, self destruction and suicide attempts in the past. When I just let go and let my mind and heart tear me to pieces. Or maybe I'm just mixing up "giving in" with "giving up" cause they tend to look a bit like twins from where I stand.

I can't help but wonder how much longer this can go on. Weeks, months, years? I can't be in love with him for years, right? That sounds so damn... painful. It's been two months already and I can barely endure it as of now. It's growing stronger, and every day it becomes a little more painful, a little more fatal. And by fatal I do mean suicide.

I'm gonna try to avoid that though, but lovesickness isn't something shrinks understand, it's not in their hands. But suicide is, and whatever the reason. It's just that if they have no idea how to handle a patient with severe lovesickness, then how would they be able to help me if it was to come to that?

I suppose I will have to help myself as usual... and that's gone well in the past... not. Sometimes I wonder that if I had ever gotten any useful help from the psychiatry I wouldn't be so fucked up as I am today. I've been thinking on and off that I should just cut off all contact with the psychiatry, they're just making everything worse. And I ask myself why I'm even going there.

So... (yes, this entry will go on forever) I really don't have a solution to what I should do if this gets any worse. I can take medication and seek comfort in others, but that's about it. And sad to say, but that has never been enough. I don't know what would be enough, I just know what isn't working. I'm tired of constantly trying to find new methods in how to survive, and repeating the old ones that didn't work. But what else can I do? Maybe this is what living is?

Try, fail and repeat. Over and over and over until there won't be any more repeat. I don't know how to sleep or eat, I don't know how to feel and think, I don't know how to be social or keep friends, I don't know how to heal or function, I don't know how to love and sometimes I forget to breathe. I don't know how to live, or even if I want to live. I'm mentally disabled and it's screwing with my soul.

I'm chain smoking again. That was a while ago. Well, not that long, come to think of it. Literally chain smoking, lighting a new cigarette right after putting the one before out. Today started out alright, but then I fell again. I should eat, take some pills, cut myself, whatever will help. I'm way past distractions now, but still far from an anxiety attack. I hope...

Everything isn't hopeless. Why do I keep forgetting that?! I'm eating, at least once a day. Though all I eat is pancakes and frozen microwave meals, but still. It could be classified as food. I have a circadian rhythm, though it's very hard for me to fall asleep and I don't get enough sleep, but still. I'm on hormones legally and supervised, and I will go in for surgery in the somewhat near future. Everything points to that at least, though it's been awfully quiet from the hospital. The point is: everything really isn't hopeless. It really isn't. It isn't hopeless. It isn't hopeless. Mantras, I've been doing that a lot lately. Doubt they help, but you never know.

Wanna see how much I can write at once without taking a break or deleting anything? Of course you do. Pausing for lighting a cigarette doesn't count.

I realise I really can go on forever with this. Weighting the pros and cons of being in love, of being alive. It's sad to say that no matter how I count, the negative always weighs more. But what am I gonna do about it? I have to own the whole world and be loved by everyone for the scale to tip the other way. But I don't want that, sounds strenuous... My dreams are too big and my hopes are too small. No, my hopes are also sky high.

My mind takes me to strange places when I think about meeting him in person. I just can't keep it on a realistic level. Just can't stop hoping, for what will never happen unless I'm EXTREMELY lucky, and I'm never extremely lucky. Not even close. Basically everything that I have to be thankful for in my life came to me because I put in a lot of effort, took a lot of risks and was very patient. So why am I hoping for a miracle, it will only hurt more than it already does because I know that won't happen. Not in this reality.

Perhaps it's because this is the last hope I can have in regards to this lovesickness: how he would react if or when I tell him. Cause after that there is no more. Then I can go back to hating everyone and blocking my own Facebook account again. Realising that being around people just makes everything worse, and that I'm better off far away from people.

Cause that's what the end of lovesickness reaches to. I break into even smaller and sharper pieces and shun the world and all that resembles it. At least I know what to expect this time. I just want it to be over, just want it to be over... and maybe that's the real reason why I wanna tell him, cause it might be the first step to some sort of recovery. But in that case it is selfish, and why place such a burden on him, the person I love so damn much I just wanna rip my heart out?

I don't understand myself, or the thoughts that I'm thinking. Nothing makes any sense! Believe me, I just want to do what is right, but I don't know what right is. I keep confusing right with wrong and all the shades in between. Is telling him wrong, is it right or just somewhere in between? If it's selfish, then it is wrong. But if not telling him is breaking me apart, isn't that also wrong? Is letting him know righteous, would he even want to know?

I'm completely analysing this into mashed potato. One moment, one feeling, one meeting that hasn't even taken place yet, analysed into a 1297 words long blog entry. Wow.