A secret told

Yeah... I write poems about Anna and I realise how complicated our situation really is. She's not evil, she's not good, she's human and so am I. Maybe she's more human than I am. I wouldn't doubt it.

I'm listening to "Forever" by The Birthday Massacre on repeat and she sings "sometimes when I close my eyes I hear a voice" and although it's not entirely fitting, it still makes me think about Anna.

Is it hopeless? I don't know. I don't think I know the true meaning of that word. I'm hopeless, maybe that's better, or at least closer to the truth. Hopelessly devoted to her and everything she's been during these 17 years by my side, occupying my head to the brim.

You don't just start talking about a secret you've kept for almost 10 years. What's wrong with me? No seriously, what is wrong with me? My curiosity just tipped the table and I can't deal anymore. With anything.

I'm crumbling and losing touch with reality and life. I didn't tell my contact person that, that I'm tired of living and slowly starting to get suicidal again. I don't want her or anyone else forcing me back to the ward when that's the last place I want to be forced into.

Though I've never been, forced to a psychiatric ward. Once, maybe, I don't know. That would be after my most serious suicide attempt, the overdose and the 11th one. I don't know if I was forced or not that time. I only remember it vaguely. But I sigh as I suddenly get a feeling that I will try to kill myself at least 2 more times before I'll actually die. Siiiiiigh, I really don't want to deal with more of that shit.

17 times, wouldn't that just be...? Like, come on, seriously?! I've got better things to do than trying to die without succeeding to. I've been chain smoking since I got home and I cannot stop. I've been trying to kill myself since I was 16 and I can't stop with that either. I remember, when I was 16 or 17 that I thought 4 suicide attempts was good. I had heard about it in a movie or something, and I thought it had a good ring to it.

Tell me, I know I'm nuts for thinking such things, but I thought it, alright? And now, with 15 failed attempts behind me and I can only remember half of them, barely, I don't know if there is a magic number.

All I know is that I don't want even more useless attempts in my history, enough is enough. But I can't help this nagging feeling, and I'm sooo very divided right now you won't believe it! On one hand I'm scared of dying before turning 28 and desperately want to pack in my entire life within those two years from now; while on the other hand I don't think I'll last for another month, or maybe another week.

No, I don't plan to kill myself, it's just thoughts. And I do want to live, I just don't know if I can. And at the same time I don't want to live because this stinking life has been forced upon me and the psychiatry sucks. It truly does, and now I'm trapped. If they'll try anything, I mean it fucking anything (force me back to the ward, force antipsychotic drugs into me, whatever) I'll cut the damn strings and fly.

No, again, not literally. Just cutting the strings with the psychiatry. There will be no actual flying. Damn, I'm tired of trying to explain myself. I don't even know whom I'm explaining myself to. There's a chaos in my head and I'm quite lost within it right now. I can't even explain this to myself.

Life, death, become meaningless words. Just different states of existence and how can I ever know which one is better than the other? I'm tired to the bone and I can't rest. I haven't been able to rest for over 10 years. I have my chronic tension headache to thank for that.

Shifting to other songs by The Birthday Massacre as I try to keep myself at least somewhat sane. For a nicotine overdose and more coffee. I should wrap myself up in my robe and start editing again, but I can't find any peace within myself. Can't focus, only breathing exhausts me. And my stomach hurts for no reason, competing with the pain in my head. At least it feels that way. Go away, go away, I tell it but it hardly helps.

I just can't stop thinking about my own death. No matter how soon or far into the future it will occur. I shudder before it. I freeze in the moment as I'm running out of words to write. Tell me again, why I should hang on to this life, cause I've forgotten why, once again.

I'm alive and I breathe but my breath is shallow, my heart is beating but it's broken, my soul still tagging along but it's homesick and scarred. And I want to leave, yet I cling to life desperately. I crumble beneath my mortal fear, it tears me apart and I can't function anymore.

I cut my ties with almost everyone again. I don't function around other people and I don't deserve them. I'll only hurt them if I haven't already. Stay, but I don't know how.

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.

In another language

Obsessive love, you've got me on my knees. I know I'm not the only one feeling like this for someone else, but why do I keep lying to my family? I want to keep everyone at a distance. Far enough to not touch my heart, but close enough for them to see me. Knowing that I'm still there, but a part of me isn't. Sure I talk about how I'm doing, but I leave stuff out, like the most important stuff. I talk about anxiety when love kills me, I talk about tiredness when I'm lethargic or filled with sorrow. I let people see the surface, but not what is going on underneath. I tell them what they already see.

Maybe love would drive me insane if I wasn't already crazy. If only I could find someone else who is also feeling like this or has before. Preferably before, and how they got out of it. What I did wasn't exactly a good advice to give anyone except possibly an enemy or two. Cause suicide seems to do the trick, and surviving an attempt did it for me. I could really use some good advice from someone who's been in my shoes. What to do when love suffocates you, when the best feeling in the world is slowly killing you?

I'm watching the Buffy series again, and thinking I'm much like how Spike was in the last 2-3 seasons. What did he do for the way he felt? He died for her, he fucking died for her. Sorry for spoilers, but it just feels important to say that. I'm crying again, and I cannot stop for the feelings remain. I've carried this for almost nine months now and I just don't know what to do.

I can't let go of him, I can't. I've tried and I'm not gonna try again, cause I don't think I would survive it. I think about him not just every day, but every night, every hour, every damned minute. I think about  him when I write about other stuff, when I play WoW, when I watch a tv-show or a movie that doesn't even depict love, when I embroider or do my laundry. All. The. Time.

Some times I don't really notice it, other times it's overwhelming. Gradually increases or decreases. It's become a routine, a habit, something that just is, following me like a shadow, or sweeps by like the wind. And it's constantly blowing on this island, so it's not a bad comparison. Exactly what I think is for me alone, too private to tell anyone. You don't wanna hear it anyway.

It's not just the thoughts you know, or waking up from a dreams about him, or missing him painfully much thirty times a day, or the picture I can't stop staring it, or the poems about him that I can't stop writing; it's the feelings. The feelings that words cannot describe. They're like a silent scream and a gentle hug at the same time. Speaking their own language that I cannot translate, but I do understand it. Oh damn, I understand it.

The tiredness of today has made me more sensitive than usual these days. It's like I'm about to collapse every minute, but I don't. Both physically and mentally, literally and figuratively. I'm on the verge of crashing, but I hold my breath, stop and start again. Pretend that I'm smoking: holding my breath for a few seconds before breathing again. An unusual way of smoking, or so I've heard. Breathing out slowly before I take my next breath. God, I miss smoking. But not as much as I miss him.

It's clawing inside me, like anxiety, but more around and in my heart than the rest of me like anxiety does. More searing and raw. Why do we feel love in our hearts? Cause it's more in the brain really, and for some of us it's in the soul. And where is the soul? I don't know, and I think no one really does. I think it's a bit like the aura though, or maybe the aura is the soul? It would make sense somehow. The way every aura has its own colour, or combination of colours, like it's our personalities in a way. I love the way auras look. Like the northern lights, or an amazing sunset. It's really something. You should see them too, and if you can't, I wish that you could.

I got off track again, but I'd rather think about auras right now. And just like that, I'm back to thinking about him again. Or rather, the thoughts flowed back to the surface again, they were just hiding in a lower layer.

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.

Don't let go

Where is home? It depends on my state of mind at the moment what I mean by that. My apartment, Uppsala, or Dala. The worse I'm feeling, the further I wanna go. Maybe that's not so strange, all things considered.

I wanna meet someone I could call a friend on this island, preferably in the town where I live. Perhaps I could find someone who isn't from here either. Someone who also knows what it's like to be broken. Maybe it's time to pay another visit to the asylum? Nah, just kidding, I don't wanna go there. All they do there is feed you food and medicine and hollow advice for a fee of hundred bucks a day.

They don't prevent suicide. I don't think they even want us mentally disturbed to survive. What future could we possibly have? Maybe they're right. Maybe life just isn't worth living with a mind like this. But it's fine, it's okay. If I die I wouldn't mind, but living is easier.

Cause I don't have to do anything to survive, not more than I already do. Basic survival is fairly easy. It's harder to die, I mean. Takes a lot of planning, courage and determination. I'm not determined to do anything. Not even living, definitely not living. I'm just lingering here, waiting for that courage to end my life.

Seven years

Valentine's Day is coming up soon. That date is really digging a hole in the remains of my heart and it's getting worse now. The ads and commercials are starting to leak out through the media, taunting me with false hopes about love. They're celebrating the worst day of my life. Opening up that terrible wound inside me every god damn year for soon seven years now. I didn't like the holiday before that either.

When as a kid I was one of those who never got any cards or whatever you were supposed to give each other. I was destined to be alone, it felt like back then, and it still feels that way, even though I've done everything in my power to try to change that. But all I got was a broken heart.

And then that thing happened in 2007. At the moment I hadn't noticed what date it was, it wasn't until right after. Happy Valentine's Day! He said and gave me candy. Oh fuck... now that has really been a mind twister. Mostly I don't think so much about that event, cause maybe I'm over it you know. Well, I might be over it the other 364 days of the year, but when the anniversary is coming up I just sort of... wanna disappear.

Well I don't know what's gonna happen this year in particular. Last year I was doing almost okay, but I was more stable then, less fucked up in a way. But this year... I'm already at the verge of total breakdown, sick with love and hopelessness is slowly drowning me. Yeah, I'm gonna be a wreck, I can tell you that much. Why can't people allover the world stop celebrating the day I was raped!?

Yeah, I really, really wanna disappear on February the 14th. Go far away from the whole world and all the chocolate hearts, red roses and jolly little glitter sprinkled love letters. Ughh... kill me now please. I wish I had someone to be with that day, at least. Someone who would just understand and protect me, keep me safe. I don't require much. Just your full attention, a whole carton of cigarettes, perhaps some tea and lots of hugs. Watching Thelma and Louise, or some other "fuck the world" -movie.

For some reason my parents just don't do. I feel like I'm hurting them in some way. Like as if it was my fault I got hurt and in that way I also hurt them. (Now I know it wasn't my fault, it's just a lingering feeling that I think almost every rape victim carry with them). That I feel guilty to not have gotten over that incident after seven frigging years. I don't want my parents to see me shattered to pieces, no matter what the reason for it is.

I don't think I'm in shape to travel either, and I'm broke as well. I'm just too poor, can barely pay for my own food. So I can't go to Uppsala, at least not for a while. I'll have to make it on my own somehow. I've survived worse, this... it's just memories.

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"

I cannot cope at night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't let it kill me

Why is it that as soon as I get the least bit of attention from my love my heart starts hurting like hell? At the same time as I just can't stop smiling. Woah, my head is spinning... Isn't this what I wanted? So why do I feel so wrong?

Because it can't be true. I must be imagining things. I want to believe it, I want to believe it with all that is left of my broken heart. An echo inside me tells me that our friendship is getting deeper, that maybe... No. My dreams are impossible. Why would he ever leave her for me?

There's no way in this hell that could happen, right? They seem so disgustingly happy together, and I've never seen or heard of any signs that said they would ever be close to breaking up. It's hopeless.

For a few days my suicidal thoughts took a break. Perhaps I buried them in the excessive world of warcraft gaming. Perhaps I just denied them. I'm on the edge all the time. There's a ticking bomb inside my heart and soul, just waiting to explode. It's been there, stressing and hurting me for months now. Fucking months!

I just can't hold it, can't keep it together, cause it's eating me alive. But I can't set it free either. I don't control the fuse, don't control time and how long it will take. But I want it to explode, cause I can't deal with this. I'm constantly stressed, like I'm being chased.

I'm paranoid as fuck, as if I was literally being chased. Always looking over my shoulder, keeping doors and windows locked and closed. I'm scared of every sudden movement, scared of my own shadow.

I don't have much time, it feels like I'm running out of time. That whatever is chasing me will eventually catch up, when I'm running out of breath. I don't even wanna think of what will happen, and maybe it's best that way.

Getting the message through

I feel a bit better now. The dizziness has decreased and so has the cold sweating, but I'm shaking instead and feel very weak. If I could take it more easy than usually, I would. Meaning there isn't much more calmer things to do than doing nothing, which is kinda what I always do.

I've realised that I can't really show emotions, and that has lead me to trouble all through my life. Sure I'm good at explaining what I feel, I'm good with words. But I can't show it. Well, anger is the only exception. I believe that is why things haven't exactly been successful in my processes of seeking psychiatric professional help over the years. Especially in emergency psych-wards. They don't take me seriously, they never have. I get this huge vibe that their attitude is something like "it can't be that bad, you don't look upset".

And that's usually when I resort to serious self harm or suicide attempts out of sheer desperation and hopelessness, thinking no one and nothing can help me. Cause no matter how hard I try, I can't get the message through. It shouldn't have to be that way, I shouldn't have to risk my life in order to get help to survive. My terrible communication skills has lead me give up on ever getting the help I needed, which in my past has lead me to take matters in my own hands. Literally.

Language is so insufficient, when spoken only with words. It's hard to believe someone who looks neutral but talks about how overwhelmed by emotions they are. I wouldn't go as far as to say they think I'm lying, but more as if they think I'm exaggerating. Could it have something to do with my asperger syndrome? It doesn't seem unlikely to me.

This might sound stupid, but I've seriously considered "faking" a reaction to the emotions I feel. Like when I am very sad I'll force myself to cry or snivel. Or if I'm very scared I'll force myself to hyperventilate and just apply whatever appropriate body language to the emotion I'm experiencing. A fake smile when I'm happy might not be such a good idea though. Damn, this makes me feel like a robot or something...

Another stupid idea that sometimes gets to me is that I should stop communicating with words at all. Willingly become mute, that is. I thought of that just after I unwillingly became mute that one day in late June. My thought behind that is: that way I would be forced to communicate with my body language much more, and that would in time make me better at doing so. It's a stupid idea because it would probably do more harm than good.

Wouldn't be able to talk on the phone, have a meaningful conversation with someone face to face, speak up when someone says something mean to me, wouldn't be able to explain myself really. Now that would be quite a strife, if you think about it. I would most likely either crawl in under a rock somewhere and stay there, fall into depression - or become violent. Cause what would you do if someone is mean to you and you can't defend yourself with words? I think I'll skip that idea, but it is tempting somehow...

How much longer

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

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

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

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

Broken

I'm so tired. Didn't wanna get out of bed today, but did it anyway. Still haven't broken to pieces yet, still waiting for it to happen. Fighting to drag it out, pushing it away for as long as I can.

Yet again, I'm trying to run away from myself. I know that doesn't work in the long run, but even if just for a few hours, or minutes... I'm fighting this as much as I can, cause I'm dreading what will happen when I can't anymore.

I'm just so fucking sick and tired of my brain, and what it does to me. Feels like it actually wants to kill me. Just wanna isolate myself completely. Not answer any calls, not going online anymore, not inviting anyone. Barricade the door, shut off my computer, shut off my phone. Cause I think being around other people is making it worse. It's people I get mad at, that I feel guilty about, that I miss, long for, fall in love with.

Nothing will solve this, it's just gonna repeat itself again. What am I supposed to learn from all this? That love is death and will eventually kill me? That no matter how hard and real I love someone I will never experience true love? Or that once I give up, completely give up, that is when I will find true love?

It's hard to think clearly. And I keep blocking out certain thoughts, certain words and memories that harms me emotionally. Things I won't allow myself to think about. They're there, in an underlying layer of thoughts, I just keep them from coming up to the surface. To form into words, pictures and reminders, emotional wounds.

Am I damaged beyond repair, or will I somehow come out of this? I know that I will, or most likely to. But the question is bigger than that. I can't allow for this to happen again, or we'll be talking about self fulfilling prophecies again. I'm in too much pain to cry, but I've been crying inside non stop since yesterday. Sometimes my eyes get a little wet, but dry within seconds again. Maybe I'm holding that back too.

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.

Falling for you is like falling to pieces

I feel like shit, for various private reasons. I would like to write about it, the specific reason, but I can't take the risk. So I write about how shitty I feel instead. But isn't that just the typical me? Constantly ventilating, because I don't really want anyone's opinions, just want people to know. But isn't that hypocritical in a way? I dunno. Sometimes I think it doesn't matter if I write it here or in my paper diary.

I've become more careful with what I choose to make public, maybe you've noticed. That there are more secrets now. Mostly cause I don't want anyone to find out who it is that I'm in love with. It sort of goes against my morals to tell everyone except for the person it actually concerns. And I can't tell him, cause that would spoil everything. Or it could, I can't know for sure of course.

I shouldn't give up, should keep on waiting, it's not too late yet, it's not... but it feels that way. My god, has it already been this long? Six months ago I was nervous about congratulating him on his birthday, and now... Well, time passes, but I didn't think I'd still be sitting here waiting, after all this time. Still clinging to dying hopes, patching up cracking dreams, repeating the same wishes, stepping on the same "K-wells" but it's fading away. I can feel it fading away. He's getting further out of reach, even more unavailable, and my days of hopelessness are becoming more and more frequent.

I cry almost every day. Cry and cut and cry. Write, but I have no words to write. It's just this. Meaningless scribbles that's been typed over and over and it never means anything. I've lost the spark in my words, lost the belief that they actually mean something. What the hell kind of writer am I then? If I don't even believe in my own words?

Everything seem to revolve around him now. Depending on what he writes or says or does is so strongly affecting my mood, my thoughts, my deeds, my life. It's like I can't exist without him. Yet he's not even mine. Not even breathing the same air, speaking to me, hearing me, seeing me. He's not actually here. It feels like I'm depending on a ghost, I'm on life support and his ghost is keeping me alive.

I seriously don't know what would happen the day I lose the grip of my dreams, hopes and wishes about him. I think I would disintegrate. That I will once again relive all that agony, insufferable inner pain of being heartbroken. I think it will happen soon. Sooner than I can afford. Way too soon. Within months, perhaps only weeks. It's already been six months, I realise. For six months I've been pining for him. Maybe longer, but my diaries don't contain any useful information.

I tried to deny my feelings for him for some time, and it wasn't until late July that I let myself fall for him. But I was already in love, already in June, but perhaps even earlier. Yup, found a picture of him on my computer saved there the 31st of May. So then it's seven months. For seven months I've been pining for him.

For all this time... I'm surprised I didn't reach this state sooner. Total devotion. It stings inside me, for I hate falling in love. I truly, most utterly hate being in love.

Why can't I feel love like everyone else does? Fall for someone who falls for you, not lose yourself completely over an acquaintance you hardly even know, not wanting to kill yourself because you don't stand a chance with the person you're so painfully in love with, for someone who barely even knows your name.

I don't want to feel love like this. It's not right, it's wrong in so many places I don't know where to begin. If this pushes me over the edge, and I start planning my own death again, maybe I'll tell him someday. Tell him that I love him so damn much, no words can describe it.

In my mind I have told him a million times, in different words every time. But it's not gonna be the same in reality. No matter how many ways I can think of saying it, reality always turns out differently. Someone once told me that "if you can imagine something, it is more likely to actually happen". I hope that is true, cause I've already imagined up a whole relationship with him.

Down there again

Why do I feel that way, why do I feel the need to be broken? I'm tearing myself apart. The will to die, will it always linger in me? Constantly tempting me with freedom and rest, being pain free, at peace, become one with or leave Anna, coming home. Will I be suicidal for life? Intentionally or subconsciously constantly shortening my own life with bad habits, just in case I won't die within those three or four years, or just because of that.

Am I always suicidal, just more or less? Don't I wish for that next cigarette to give me lung cancer, for that next dose of pills to kill my liver, for that next breath to be be my last? That maybe if I starve myself long enough I'd eventually die from malnutrition, or that at some point if I manage to stay awake long enough my body will give out completely. Without taking more pills than I should, or slitting my arms too deep, or anything directly deadly, don't I still have that vague hint of a feeling that I just wish this could be my last day in this hell? Yes...

A memory from when I was in a psych ward in Uppsala two years ago that will never leave my mind. A guy there, he was funny, a truck driver in his late 30's. I can't remember his name, or even what he looked like except from blue jeans and shaved head. He said something, can't remember the exact words, or the word, but I can't forget it. Something about us smokers committing suicide methodically or contemplated. I had never until then thought about it that way, but he was so right.

It's amazing what truly amazing people you meet within those walls. When we are the most vulnerable, broken or uncontrollable. Sharing cigarettes and slipping pills when the staff isn't looking. It's a world of its own.

I'm falling again. Thought I was in bad shape yesterday? Well today it's even worse. I've stopped eating and started popping caffeine pills again. I won't take my sleeping pills or sedatives or do anything that will calm me down too much. I'm feeding my anxiety and sadness instead of trying to ease it. Why? I don't know, but I seem to purposely make myself feel worse.

Maybe it's like when you get angry and accidentally break something that you like, so you get even more angry, but instead of trying to fix the thing you broke, you break it even more.

But I won't kill myself. Not more than I already do at least. I'm satisfied by these means of self harm that will probably harm me in the now as well as in the long run. That was all I was writing about, so don't get any ideas.

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.

Barely there

Barely need to reach down to the floor to turn the kettle on. Use the same unwashed tea cup for the seventh time, the same teabag for the third. Everything is spread around me, all the trash that I collect. Soda cans, cigarette butts and paper tissues litter around my chair like a fortress of hopelessness. My back aches and my head feels tight. I'm sorry, but nothing is alright.

I can't find my desk under all these papers, boxes with medication and books. Counting cigarettes on a writing pad, and forget only half of them. All these reminder notes for things I'd rather just forget. Can barely breathe for all the smoke, but it gets so cold with the window open, I'd rather just suffocate. And I would solve the world problems by shutting them out, if I would let them in to begin with.

The refreshing taste of menthol with blood between my teeth from fresh wounds. It's an addiction that comes an goes, and it has for nine years in January. But time passes and I hardly even notice. I live in the past, in lost dreams and memories that never was. An inevitable sting in my heart. The dagger was already in, it was so easy just to twist it. I remain silent without tears, I built a wall I cannot break through even when I'm alone.

And I realise that I'm still holding back, can't let him into my soul. Cause if I do he'll be there forever, just like Caspian and T. I can deal with a broken heart, but a broken soul can never fully heal. Pull down my sleeves and light another cigarette. I'm still here.

Simply existing

I think I'm opting for a caffeine overdose tonight. Six pills and two energy drinks in less than three hours. That would count as eight cups of coffee... Don't worry, I'll call an ambulance before I go into cardiac arrest. It's when I reach this state, after being awake for more than 30 hours and the third night falls, I get so tired that I have to double or triple my caffeine consumption to be able to keep awake. I've never been able to be up for four nights or more in a row, so can't tell how that would go.

I'm shivering, chain smoking and can't think about anything but simply existing right now. Holding my breath, breathe, feel my jaded heartbeats and the coldness on my back, the smoke in my eyes, the robe belt fastened too tight around my waist, my tense stomach, rocking myself to the rhythm to the music and the little aches in my wrists from all the typing.

Existing... why is it so hard sometimes? There's so much on my mind it's nothing at all. My whole body aches, except for my knees for some reason. Focus on them then. But I can't feel them, the little comfort there is disappears in all the pain. Why does my body have to be such a bitch? Demanding things I simply cannot give it. Is that how I am disabled? That I can't provide my body what it needs cause I'm that crazy. And I'm constantly deteriorating and I've been doing so since ever. But my body is strong, young and healthy.

Yet I feel old. Cause I can't carry the weight I have, constantly aching, tired and have no energy at all. I have all time in the world, but no energy to do anything the world has to give me. Not so strange that I feel like shit. And I'm still wanting to get in shape so it can give me some of that energy I lack, but knowing deep inside my heart that's not the way it works. It didn't work in junior high, so why should it now? I was healthier and younger then, ate better and trained karate three times a week, yet I was so damn tired and constantly aching already then. I just chose to ignore it, until I no longer could.

So why bother then? First of all, because I'm not gonna give up just because I've lost my hopes. That might sound contradiction, but it isn't. One is a feeling, the other is a choice, and I chose to go against that feeling.

I'm cold sweating now also. I hate it when that happens but I know it so well. Shivering in my own sweat, my body cooling itself down when I'm already cold which makes me even colder. This night feels so damn long, and it has barely just begun.