With my heart on the edge

I still miss him, but I don't know what to say here. If I start writing about him and what's been up, he'll definitely know it's him if he reads this. If he doesn't already know, that is. But yeah, I'd say things are going in the right direction now.

I don't even know why I'm so scared of him possibly finding out that it's him, but I think it's because I want him to know for sure first, that I tell him face to face. And not for him to read this and think "oh shit, it's me" and then possibly never talk to me again.

It's become complicated for me to figure how just how much I wanna share with the world. But I don't want to leave it out entirely. Does that make any sort of sense? That I'll just give you vague hints that something new is up but I don't want to say what it is. Sorry for that.

Well, I want you to know but at the same time I don't. I'm not making any sense, I'm tipsy and a bit ecstatic. For the first time ever, I notice something has changed for the positive in all this. It gets my hopes up.

I'm so curious about him, it's like I wanna know everything. Usually I'm all about talking about myself, but now it's more like I wanna talk about him, with him, instead. Make him the centre of attention instead of myself. He's such an inspiration to me. Like I take tips and advice from him, wanna look like him, do what he does and so on. Trying not to get triggered by the not so good things he does and feels. But I'm easily triggered by anything these days.

All of this is a bit weird for me. This new kind of way I feel love for him. That I've never loved anyone else like this before. He's so fucking awesome, I don't know what kind of magic he uses on me! Seriously, this is insane, what I'm feeling. So incredibly strong, so crude and almost unnatural. Unnatural, because how is it even possible that I love him so much?

I wish I could fall in love the way normal people do. How is that exactly? I don't know. Maybe I just want it to be mutual. I want what you see in movies; where you meet and hit off, then one thing leads to another and you slowly develop stronger feelings for one another until you one day say "I love you". I want that. I crave it so much it hurts sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I could fall out of love with K so that I could start over. Get to know him, see if there's any interest back and then fall in love again if there is a spark. Does that sound weird? Cause I don't want to be with or love anyone else. No matter how likeable another person I come across may be. No matter if a wonderful person suddenly would come into my life and be interested in me.

I've made my choice, but alas, I can't control my crazy heart. No matter how much I'd like to. I want to tell it that it cannot ever love anyone else, tell it that this is enough, enough heartbreaks and enough pain.

Split in black and white

My mind is never at peace. Am I a humanised demon, or a demonised human? Does it matter? I've always felt a bit like the super heroes who have a darker identity that they sort of switch to at certain points, when something triggers them. I'm not saying I feel like a super hero, rather quite far from it. But it's like I'm two people sometimes, and even though pain and madness drives me to the darker me I like him better.

Hard to say why, cause that me isn't much stronger or wiser or anything really. Just different. Braver, perhaps. More confident, selfish and solitary. The other me is bright, more fun and easy going. Insecure, kinder and more social. Isn't that rather schizo though? I don't know, I haven't really come across this phenomena before. I will do some digging in that area, but I doubt I'll find anything useful though.

I've always been split between black and white, and now I see why. I am both, but not at the same time. It's not like I have alter egos, they're both me. Just that one side enhances the dark and the other enhances the light. But since the darker is only present when triggered, that could be a clue of something. That it is developed, not something I was born with. Doesn't make it any less real though, but I think I've just been through too much damn darkness, like what the fuck is happening to me?!

I'm split in so many ways it's getting hard to keep up with everything. First there's me and my body, an eternal war to be honest. Secondly there's me and Anna, which can also be a war sometimes but mostly we're like siblings. Siamese twins that never got our own separate bodies. I don't morph into her, I don't become her, we're like two different people entirely. And then there's this. Where I see myself as two sides of a coin, one dark and one light. Not as in negative and positive, think more like night and day.

I've been trying to describe this like a gazillion times before, but I think I nailed it now. I'm the dark side of me now, can you tell? Triggered by my past and my worries about K, I just sort of morphed. I don't know how that happens, suddenly I'm just there.

This isn't new, I've just not been able to describe it before. I've tried. I've tried so hard for probably about twelve years or more. How the usual me can change into something else. Most people only see that me, as to why I refer to as the "usual", and I suppose there isn't that much difference between them both.

The difference has increased though. I dress differently depending on which one I am. I wear light colours, like a white shirt and blue jeans if I'm the light me. And vice versa I wear darker colours like a blood red shirt with black pants if I'm the dark me. It affects my mood more lately. I don't think either side is more prone to psychosis, though I'm not sure yet. I'll make a thorough study on that later.

I think this is another defence mechanism. I have so many of those just to able to survive my own life. I don't think my life sucked quite that hard, I mean there are loads of people who have had a much worse life without becoming Schizophrenic or whatever the fuck I am. PTSD drew me to madness, is quite safe to say. I'm not very sane at all, though I might seem that way to other people. I can't help but thinking it's not so strange since my chaos is more or less locked inside my brain. And it just becomes worse.

Or does it? I'm seeing clearer all the time, especially since about a year ago. Damn my vision has expanded more than I could handle. Literally more than I could handle. But what does this mean? Like I suddenly understand exactly why I dyed half my hair black and bleached the other half blonde on and off for so many years before. But everyone just said that I looked like Berny Pålsson so I suppose that's why I stopped having my hair that way eventually, even though the first time I had it was before I had even heard of her. When I first saw a picture of her at 17 it was like looking into a mirror. I was both allured and creeped out.

This also explains why I want all my tattoos and piercings on one half of my body but not the other. It explains why I'm drawn to black and white patterns, why I sometimes do my make up differently on either side of my face and so on. It explains my ambivalence too. Damn, it explains a lot. I'm split in two.

Open doors

I finally brought it up with my psychologist. That I wanna talk about my traumas. Only took me about eight months to muster that... I lightly (well, maybe not so lightly) write about some of those ordeals, what I'm okay with sharing, but it's a whole different thing talking about it face to face with someone. Especially when I'm sober. I might even tell her not only about what I've been put through by others (which I have shared here and in real life) but also about what I've done to other people.

I'm not such an innocent little flower, you know. Or well, I don't know what got into me exactly at those times when those things happened. Probably must have completely lost my mind for a day or two. I still don't know why I did what I did, it's beyond me. I'm kind and caring and would never harm another living creature on purpose, would I? Except that I have.

And I can't wrap my head around that. Maybe there is evil somewhere inside all of us, just that I happened to be one of those who acted out on it. There's so much I don't understand about myself, but those things... I really wonder what the hell is wrong with me when I think about it.

Maybe I shouldn't, you know, think about it. If it pains me so much and I just get nowhere when I'm trying to sort it out. I just entangle myself in it and the problem only grows bigger. The problem that I can't accept myself for the awful things I have done, and I wouldn't accept anyone else for having done the same things either. There was a time when I thought "those people" should be locked up in prison, or even be executed. Would that justify a suicide? I don't know.

But I wouldn't wanna kill myself as an excuse to society, and those I've hurt by my deeds would only become devastated if I die. That is a problem. I suppose you're figuring out that it's someone I'm still in contact with, someone who knows me. Then you're right, but I won't say more than that. There's only two people by the way, that I hurt, if that's of any consolation at all. Better than three or five or ten, I mean. Though I'm not diminishing it.

I don't want to kill myself, and especially not for something that happened several years ago. I've had reasons, millions of reasons for suicide, but this has never been it. Is that wrong of me, thinking that I don't deserve to die, but that I have in my past thought that people who have done the same things rightfully deserved to die?

I mean look a society. We have a criminal justice system, and the state or something decides who should be locked up or not. I was too young for my first deed but had I been older and gotten reported I would most likely have ended up in prison or a likewise place depending on age. But then my gender would also likely have been confusing so you never know. Cause "girls don't do that" kinda crap, not that I was a girl, but you get it. There are certain things you wouldn't accuse a girl of doing. All I know is that most sane people don't want creeps who have done such things walking around on the streets. I could do it again, right?

Isn't that what the criminal justice system is made for, to stop criminals from acting out again? I can safely say that I will never ever lose my mind like that and do something like that again. Ever. But the thing is that I have already done it and once things are done they cannot be undone. I would if I could though. Oh, I so definitely would undo it if I could...

But back to where I was going with this. I'm very divided around the subject of right and wrong because of this. Cause if I would firmly stand by my words I would go against my own deeds, if that makes any sense. My sense of right and wrong is colliding. I'm the kid in a candy store telling everyone it's wrong to steal but still has stolen candy before in that store. But now we're talking much worse things than stealing candy. Very hush hush.

It's the only things I have never ever told anyone about. That's why I'm so nervous and hesitating to tell my shrink. I don't even know if I should. Things could get worse, if she decides she needs to "save" or whatever, the persons I hurt, then it could get really complicated. Really, really complicated. Of course I'll ask her if there's any chance she would do that first. Really push it out of her if I have to, cause I just can't take that risk. It would mess things up not only for me, so I'm not completely selfish.

I know of only one other person I would possibly tell, and that would be K, if he wanted to know that is. Cause that is how much I trust him, even though I don't know him so well. Though I bet you're all dying to know what horrible crimes I've committed. Or maybe you just want me to shut the fuck up about it already. But here it is. Maybe I am revealing more about it each time, I don't know. It's like it's trying to claw its way out of me, like a crazy bird or something. I have to force myself to shut up.




Maybe why I'm always so open... what if it's compulsive? That I'm sort of forcing myself to the brink, constantly pushing it a little bit further each time. Until literally my whole life is on display. No, I won't include those things in my autobiography. I'll leave a hint in the end of the chapter about when I was in 1st to 3rd grade, but I'll also say that it's not just my story to tell. I'm still trying to control myself as much as I can. I re-read and edit all of my posts and I ask myself, "would I be okay with everyone reading this?" before I decide if I should post it. I think that's it for now. Just needed to vent a bit.

Denial and bargaining

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The fury within me

I can't deal with this. I just freaked so horribly because my computer decided to have an emergency shut down right when I was writing and playing WoW. Sure these simple note pad programs are handy and easy to use, but if it's lost somehow, it's lost forever. To be honest I don't really know what I lost, nor do I even care about it.

It's just that the way inanimate objects tend to live their own lives drives crazy. And I mean screaming, crying, hitting things, hitting myself, drinking, cutting, cursing kinda crazy. The sort of pure fury no one cant really understand unless you've experienced it yourself. And there is nothing more destructive than that. I somewhat managed to control myself this time though.

Yes, I both screamed and cried and also hit things, but I didn't touch the computer. I didn't know what to do with myself, almost tore off my eyebrow piercing even. It's like that extreme anger is a life force on its own, possessing my body, making me unable to control any of my muscles. It's like a directed spasm, stronger than a fucking orgasm even. It's that overwhelming, but I can't make anyone understand. I'm not me when I get that angry, I become something else.