Out of control

I don't want to play WoW, I don't want to do anything. I think I'm shifting again. But what can I do about it when there's nothing I want to do? Should take a walk. Buy a sandwich. Eat it. Smoke some more. Write some more. Maybe draw something, I don't know, anything.

Well, that didn't make me feel better. I'm kinda sad today, though not dark, not yet at least. I worry a lot. About the present and the future. I rarely worry about the future, but now I apparently do. There's something nagging at me, something I can't control, that I can't do anything about. It pains me, that it makes me feel so helpless. I can't control my fears and they are rising.

I wish I could just feel better sometime and not having so much to worry about all the time. All that anxiety that will probably never entirely leave me. And because it keeps changing all the time it's so hard to find a way to deal with it. So many different things causes my anxiety, like it's a life form of its own. And as soon as I think I understand it, then it changes again.

The reasons change. One day I'm having anxiety over one thing and the next day it's something else. It's very confusing. And to be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure if it is anxiety. It could be something else. Despite how it may seem, I can't even define half of all my complicated emotions. They are in control over me, and I'm just desperately trying to tag along wherever they lead me.

Oh, I'm not done yet. I feel so lost, and I realised that much of my pain today is because I miss K. I miss him more than ever before and if I let my guard down I think I would break down and cry. But I don't want to. I'd rather stay strong, trying not to switch to the dark me again and just hold on to the here and now. I'm such an asshole when I'm the dark me and I don't want to be that. That cold and confident, it sickens me. So I resist it as far as I can, even though I know I would feel better if I shift.

*

Suddenly I'm just cold. Defence mechanism activated. One of them many. But this thing, I don't even know if it's new, or that I just realised it very recently. How new can it be? I don't remember shifting like this before. Not with such a clear difference between these two polar opposites, as it is now. Maybe it has just become this way gradually. It's possible, cause I think it yet is to become even worse.

I hope it doesn't turn into something like DID, that wouldn't be good at all. I really hope I won't get that divided. I'm trying to gather all of me and put into one jar, somewhere confided where I can just collect myself and become a whole person again. How many am I now? I don't really know. Am I me and Anna or are we divided and I am light and dark? And the voices I hear, are they me too?

Such a complicated mess and I don't even know half of it. I'm still pondering, wondering if I should come clean to my shrink about this. Still very much hesitating, but I don't want it to get even worse. I fear for my mind, the seams that are ripping, the tear in my soul. I'm breaking apart and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

How my whole personality just keeps on splintering into smaller parts. All those parts by themselves are easier to handle, but together make a mess out of everything. It's hard to describe, this way of falling to pieces. Like I'm literally falling to pieces and I can't put it back together again. I'm losing control, I'm losing my mind.

This is very confusing. It's like I'm becoming two different people, yet I already am two different people. That my soul got split the first time when I was 9 and the other half of me became Anna. And now what, the half of me that truly is me is also splitting up in two? I don't know who I am anymore, where I end or begin, what is me and what isn't.

And if this is true, what could it mean for my future? If I'm suddenly three people and I shift between two of them, this could just go on forever and I could keep splitting into more personalities. So do I really have Schizophrenia or DID or do I very much unlikely have both? Just bits and pieces of both conditions and I can't figure it out. I'm dissociating as well as hallucinating with delusions. I'm quite a chaos.

This is a very long entry, but I think it is important. I've never written an entry first as the light me then continued writing as I shifted to the dark me. If not else, I need it for some documentation. To see how much I change, if the difference between the two will grow or fade or stay the same over some time. I know I'm thinking far ahead, I'm just worried.

I was playing WoW when I shifted, and I felt it the entire time. It's hard to describe it, but it was a bit like walking into another room. It might not sound very special to you, but believe me, it was quite interesting. Though having Anna constantly bothering me during the process was a bit annoying. It was almost like she was scared of it.

Impossibly possible

I love my paradoxes sometimes. How they overlap and extinct each other. Like red and green just becomes brown, but sometimes brown can become red and green separately. Figuratively. Did you know that once I was told that you can't mix colours to create a primary colour, and that I said fuck that and with purple and green I got red. Not a very clear red, but it was a shade of red. Like a matte scarlet shade. Perhaps that is a fake memory, a delusion (I was ten, how schizo could I have been?) or my magic powers (okay, maybe I was a bit schizo already then...)

Ah, I really don't understand sometimes. Or I just can't explain, those magic powers. How can they be, and how come no one believes me even when it's right in front of their eyes? My hair is supposed to be light/medium brown, unchangeable, but now it's dark brown naturally. Just look at my eyebrows, I haven't dyed them since the summer! And my eyes, they turned green over night. I created a primary colour from two secondary, which is supposed to be impossible.

Maybe that's it. It is impossible. Period. Even if it actually happens, no one will believe it. That's how you humans work, you don't believe in anything unless you are the one experiencing it, no matter what that is. I don't work the way you do, I believe there's a possibility for absolutely everything to exist. I don't need proof, I don't need first hand experiences. Maybe it's not me who is crazy, maybe it's just humans that are too dumb to stop pretending to be blind and deaf.

This is, and has been hard for me. My whole life I have never known what is real or not. What actually happened or not. I think the breaking point between my past life and this, along with bullying and abuse, made me Schizophrenic at a very young age.

I was a very private person as a child, and I hid all of my rather severe mental problems. I was already then, in my soul, old enough to understand that it was not something you talk about. I really went out of my way to hide the fact that I heard voices and practised magic in the living room at home when everyone was asleep. I didn't tell people about my odd experiences, maybe just my parents, but they don't even believe in mental illness. They just see it as we are all different.

I only see the world through my own, rather impaired eyes. What should I compare with? How can I possibly know what reality is? Is it like a boring dream with less time jumps, or more like a hollywood movie with less drama? Or am I fishing again?

I know "regular" people usually don't experience previously mentioned stuff, but what about all the rest? There are too many gaps to fill, too much chaos I cannot define. I mean I don't even know what psychotic means! I've read so much about it, but I still can't understand. I think that is because I'm already in it. A light form of a permanent psychosis. So deeply embedded delusions that more or less have come to define the person that I am today. And that's why it's so difficult, so painful, to look beyond it. Cause what is left? Is there anything left?

I think I've built everything on what actually isn't real. All of my beliefs, my hopes, dreams, goals, wishes, fate, everything. Goddamn hard it is to get off this chair and go to the store today...

All those words

Still crying, with pauses in between. Or maybe it's just the cigarette smoke, I don't know. But I feel so unbelievably sad. I can't take any pills for sadness, and there's no use in trying any antidepressants either. I dunno what my doctor can possibly tell me that I don't already know, at our next meeting on the 28th.

I was a bit upset when I got the note that I am to see her so late into January. She was supposedly back to work on the 8th so can't blame it on that. I suppose I just wasn't a priority.

Damn, I just wanna disappear somewhere. I don't wanna talk to anyone, don't want your simple tips on what I can do, I already have lots of lists with both good and bad things to do in a crisis like this. Well, maybe it's not so much of an actual crisis, but when cutting isn't enough (like now) I usually end up doing worse things, and that would be a crisis.

I wish I could be silent forever, to never speak a word again. Words are so pointless. Language is so pointless. They say the human mind cannot grasp what words cannot tell. I don't wanna say this because I'm otherkin, but I do grasp a lot of what words cannot tell. And that's why I find it so meaningless, cause words have no longer any meaning when none of them are enough to communicate with.

But I can't. I can't just decide to stop speaking. Of course people wouldn't call me that often anymore, but they would be banging on my door just as much instead. They would become more frustrated than I would be, given only nods or head shakes, short sentences written with a trembling hand.

People think that talking could cure mental illness. How wrong they are. "People" who are supposed to be educated in psychology, who have read shit loads of books on the subject for years, practised as psychologists or therapists or whatever, talked to lots of various broken people. "People" who should by all means know better than I do. I'm a hobby counsellor reading heavy students literature for fun, and I know that words can't cure anything.

Or am I just being subjective now? Because after years of seeing several so called "specialists" on the minds of humans haven't helped me even the least bit? Well, I finally got a psychologist, for the first time someone who actually knows more than I do. That is just sad. That I know/knew more about psychology than all those various counsellors I've met up until now. But most of all, I know that knowledge hasn't give me any solace.

So what, I have Aspergers. I know about it, and I know what you're supposed to do to make living with it easier. But you know what? None of that shit works on me cause I'm also an emotionally unstable, depressive, transgendered full time self harmer with split personality, who hears voices and believes that he's a demon. What do you do to "cure" that? Nothing. There is no cure for freaks like me.

Yet another theory

Coldness. It can really set loose almost any emotion known to man inside me. Fear, hopelessness, eagerness, hatred, comfort, and right now it's pissing me off. Like: get the fuck warm or I'll do something I'll regret! I realise I'm actually talking to myself sometimes, and not only to Anna. Yes, this is an actual realisation. Maybe I've done that all the time but just didn't realise it until now, but it could be baby steps in trying to think for my own a little. Whatever that could be good for.

She is my emotional support and has been for as long as I can remember, or well, before I couldn't handle my thoughts at all, so in a way it was good that she came along. I've never really doubted that it was good she showed up in the first place, I was a terrible mess by that time. But I do think it might have been good if she had left before she became the problem. My post traumatic stress disorder is only masked by her existence.

I found out, a few months ago, that there is a kind of PTSD that causes dissociation and that is one of my many theories about Anna that in some view could be possible. About an imaginary person showing up right after a trauma, as a type of defence mechanism, and it's closely related to dissociative identity disorder. I'm definitely still fucked up over what happened all those years ago, so dissociation or not, PTSD is more than likely.

But a part of me still believes this is an exceptional thing that is a bit out of the ordinary, and can't really fit into just one particular diagnose. A dissociation wouldn't be permanent, as extended, deeply embed and developed as this. While at the same time a hallucination or a delusion wouldn't be so alike my own thoughts, permanent and constant. Cause I'm absolutely certain this is permanent, we will never become one again. It's like a fictional movie thing about split personality with the vast exception that we coexist as two different people. That is where DID doesn't fit in either. This is a mystery that I just can't let go of, okay?

I think maybe listening to Emilie Autumn sparked my thoughts this time, and reading a bit about her on Wikipedia. Thinking that maybe I should buy her book, cause apparently she wrote one, and it seems it could be interesting.

The happiness I've never known

Why was I never happy, not even in my early childhood? Of all the things I envy from other people, I most of all envy that no matter how sad or happy they are now, they were happy once before. What do I know of happiness? I've never felt it, never been able to reach out and touch it with my finger tips, never even seen it in the distance. I've heard others talk about it, seen other experience it, showing their happiness to the world.

Now I'm not talking about that fairy tale sort of happiness, I'm talking about the every day kind of happiness. Getting up in the morning and not wanting to just stay in the bed forever every day of your life. Having dinner with your loved ones without thinking about your past or future suicide attempts. Going for a night out with your best friends without five minutes later sneaking in to the bathroom to cut yourself. Being able to stay in a moment of happiness, it might last for hours or just a few minutes, without constantly feeling the darkness hanging over you. Cause I wonder what that is like.

Sometimes I dream, fantasise about what a happy life could be like. A normal life with a tolerable amount of anxiety. But the thing is, I don't fit into that picture. I end up fantasising about someone else's life.

The thing is, not a day goes by without me thinking about suicide. Not just about doing it, and rarely any actual plans. Most it's just vague things. Like pictures flashing by, and I don't even know if it's me in those pictures. I make associations to suicide from movies and tv-show episodes that really aren't depicting suicide. For example, some character might talk about being thirsty, and I instantly start thinking about what killing yourself by drowning could be like. Or I could just be smoking a cigarette, one of those 40 something a day, and wonder if I could kill myself just by smoking in my bed.

The thought creeps in at any given moment, several times a day, hardly with me knowing it before hand. Anything, absolutely anything can make me start thinking about it. I'm trying to figure out when this started. But I think that it's always been this way, just more often the older I've gotten. I think it increased after my first suicide attempt, in January 2005. The first time I really wanted to kill myself I was 12, so that might have been when these thoughts started, but the topic had been on my mind far before that. I was the suicidal child that no one took seriously. Well, at such an early age as 6 I had no idea how to even go through with it. I didn't know what was lethal or not. That took some time to figure out.

I really didn't figure that out until just a few years ago. Of course I knew the principles long before that, but it wasn't until I was maybe 20 or 21 that I found out just how deep you need to cut, or just how big an overdose it's required.

Apart from me being suicidal like forever, I haven't always been unhappy in it's general term. Just tormented. I've had too much on my mind, too many feelings in my heart, too much longing in my soul. I think that maybe my memories of Dala has made me an unhappy person. That clinging to them, wishing I had never come here, always comparing Dala to this world, has made me incapable of truly enjoying anything in this life. Cause no matter how good things are, they were always better in Dala.

Yes, I have thought about that before. Even wished that I could take it all away, all those memories and start over without them. I don't wish for Dala to never have happened, I just wish that my reincarnation was more like other people's reincarnations: without any memories of it. Cause I think that then I wouldn't have had something so much better to compare with. Then I would have given this life a chance.

Cause that has been a problem. I never gave this life even the slightest bit of a chance. Ever since I discovered about my reincarnation, somewhere around age 4 to 6, I can't remember before 5-6, but my mother told me about my first suicidal thoughts at the age of 4. Ever since then all I wanted was to throw this life away. For somehow I discovered that by dying I would be able to return to my "real home" as I said back then.

A thing my mother told me just the other day or so, about a "Monroe Institute". A guy that remembered a past life much like mine. He described it as our (human kind) place of creation, our first home, where we all come from. A place of perfection and harmony. Well, just hearing about another person remembering what could most likely be the exact same place, kinda blew my mind! He's dead now, unfortunately, but I've been meaning to check out that website my mother mentioned.

I still cling to Dala, but as of lately I've been trying to let go. It feels like I need to let go in order to grasp this life that I'm living right now. Trying not to think about it so much, trying to move on. I should of course have done that many years ago, but it's so close to my heart, it's like it is every essence of my soul. And my soul is screaming, yearning, aching, bleeding to return. It's hard to ignore those heart tearing wishes that's been solely the number one reason for almost all of my suicide attempts. And I don't even know if I'll be able to return.

That is how strong those feelings can be, so strong that I'm sometimes ready to just throw away this life forever, even though I don't know if I would return to Dala. 50/50 and I take the bet, sort of. But most of the time, all that long time between suicide attempts, I don't want to take that chance. However, that is how strongly I still cling to Dala. Ready to kill myself for a childhood fantasy land.

So there was where it all started, so young that my very first memories hadstarted to take form. I shut myself away from the world, didn't want to be a part of it. It was a pretty good defence mechanism as I was bullied from my first year of school. I was antisocial, hated humanity and didn't want so called friends. I liked to keep my distance, until I started to like my future best friend. Realising she was one of few who didn't hate me, one of few who wanted to hang out with me.

I don't know for sure if she was the one who brought me out of my bubble, or if I just invited her into it. Maybe bits of both, cause when I started to train karate in a different town I really had started to crawl out from that bubble. And that was also when I first started to let go of Dala. I don't remember feeling unhappy in my 7th grade, maybe that was as close to happy as I've ever been. Before things started to fall apart again.

It's really gone up and down since then, but mostly down. I wasn't comparing so much with Dala as of what I can remember, didn't wanna think about it. Life fucked me over, but it wasn't because of my way absent past. I had lost faith in myself a long time ago, and almost invited bad people into my life. I'd rather something bad happened than nothing at all. Yes, I remember saying that when I was 14 or 15, and I'm not saying any of the horrible things I went through was my own fault. I'm mostly thinking about the rape, but not exclusively. I've never blamed myself for his despicable deed, but was it entirely on him?

I'm just saying that if I was confident and even cared about protecting myself, it's likely it never would have happened.

I was skilled in self defence and had been warned about creeps like him and that exact situation. Don't follow strange men home. Yet I did. It was even my own suggestion. It was like I didn't even care, like I invited it. But then it all went wrong of course, or it would have been a one night stand instead of a rape. But I did have it in the back of my mind. I did have it in the back of my mind already in the moment I asked if we could go to his place. I thought that there was a risk of rape if I went home with him. That's what I'm talking about. So it's not my fault that he raped me, but it's very much my own bloody fault that I ended up in his apartment. I'm smiling about this, so don't worry. I can be an idiot sometimes and years later I'm smiling at my own dumb choices. Practically over it by now.

After that, of course, I fell some more into my despair. Just months later I ended up with my first actual boyfriend, and we were happy to begin with. I was in love, so very much in love, and he loved me too. I had never had that before, and sadly, never again after. But that happiness only lasted a few months before he also became one of those creeps I had been warned about. The manipulative kind of men who wants to literally own their partner. Decide what I should eat, wear, weigh, do and who I was allowed to see and not. It took several months for me to muster breaking up with him, thought he could change. And I broke his heart but he broke mine too.

Shortly after our break up I re-realised the transgender stuff and I don't know if that brought me up or down. There was too much going on already, but that realisation couldn't have come a day too early. But some things got harder, I had to defend myself and my human rights all the damn time and dating became a hell. But at least I was myself, I was finally true to myself.

Once again I end up summarising my whole life, as if I didn't know about it already. As if I could ever stop obsessing about my own tragic life. It hasn't only been bad, but the bad out weighs the good and the negative feelings have always been so much stronger. The hell that I've been through, the hell between me and Anna, the hell between me and the world around me. That even if I try my best and hardest I end up failing, I crash on the concrete aching and bleeding. But I don't give up.

For some reason, despite all the chaos and darkness, I still fight and try to do better next time. I know that if I search long enough I will find what I'm looking for. In the end, and in the long run that is what I truly believe. And I have nothing, absolutely nothing to support that belief. That's why I don't think that I'm depressed, and perhaps I never even was. It's something else, all the other negative emotions except for sadness.

A common misconception is that you have to be depressed if you truly want to kill yourself. It's not true. It is believed to be the most common reason for suicide, but not the one reason alone. I've got enough reason and more. Missing Dala, hating the person living inside my head day and night, lovesickness, feeling incomplete and broken, being stuck in a limbo, anxiety, hating my body and so on. I've got reasons, but I'm not depressed. I want to die, but I'm not unhappy, not overwhelmed with sadness.

Being happy isn't just about happiness. I don't think that just by adding something to my life, that would make me happy. I already have too much to carry, and I don't think I will ever get rid of any of that. That is why I don't think I will ever be happy. It's not about what I don't have, it's what I already have.

Wake up, your world is just an illusion

What started me off with these thoughts on Schizophrenia, was of course Anna. She was the problem, my enemy, my nightmare. I so desperately wanted to find an answer, so that maybe I could get rid of her, before I ended up killing myself in an attempt to kill her, or to "simply" separate us. But I don't have that reason any more. Sure I wanna know who the fuck she is and all that, but it's not because I wanna get rid of her in some way. She has been a nightmare for a lot of the time since we were... I don't know, eleven years old? Something like that. But after every nightmare we have always found a way back to each other, a way to tolerate our situation and even be friends.

Much more lately, as she's been taking my part in this roller coaster this spring, summer and autumn. She's definitely a cold hearted bitch; but she's also right, wonderfully sarcastic and truly supportive. Perhaps she's finally realised that I'm the only one she's got, and "gotten over" her own depression. Now she fights beside me, and my battle has become ours, and we fight on the same side. Perhaps the sad part about it, is that what brought us to this point was when Vargyl showed up. And more precisely, when he started to turn against me.

But it wasn't until that bus-trip from Arlanda that I really understood her true agenda. When she had with both Vargyl and Satan been arguing and commenting and mentally torturing me for about two hours, suddenly helped me "snap out of it" with kindness. True, selfless, caring kindness. Now that doesn't come easily from her!

And to be honest I'm not sure if she even would fit in as a valid symptom of Schizophrenia. I'm starting to realise you have to be quite conversant in that and various other disorders to be able to even have a slightest clue of what a Schizophrenic hallucination is compared to a dissociation, a delusion, a depersonalization or whatever other kinds of defence mechanisms that I haven't yet dwelt into.

So what I'm trying to say is that I don't primarily base this Schizophrenia thing on Anna, but because of everything else. So if I should count her out, how far back in time can I go to find a point where I can say "that is when I lost my mind"? To be honest, I've never had such a good grip on reality to begin with. So the only answers I can provide is either very early onset Schizophrenia (hello, nine?!), or various mental illnesses leading up to Schizophrenia. Such as Asperger, PTSD, OCD, dissociation, transsexualism (it itself has nothing to to with this, but it can put some restrain on you, especially if you weren't right in your mind to begin with) and depression.

And since everything started so early, it's not completely out of the question to think that I have learned to live with it, and there for function considerably well. For I have never known anything else, and it didn't hit me all at once.

The thing is, I realise, I can't cut Anna out. Just imagining, or rather trying to imagine my whole life without her in my past just isn't possible. Everywhere I've been, she's been. Every thought I've thought, she's answered.

Another meaningless post that led me nowhere. It feels like I'm so clouded by all these mental problems blending in together in an indistinguishable fucking mess, and where the hell did I fit into it? I've never been human simply because I've never been sane. I was born into a mental disorder. What was just normal kids' behaviour like imaginary friends, a fantasy land, shyness, clumsiness. Weighted by a bullying too rough for anyone to endure, I never "out grew" my childhood beliefs. Still have the same imaginary friends, still believe in my fantasy land.

So my only question is this really: when does childhood fantasies become a mental disorder? That would be when I got sick.

I never really lived in the real world. I've always clung to the beautiful memories of a past life, talked to people in my head and tried to convince people that I actually can perform real magic. Though I'm not completely gone in my madness, I still have one foot in this reality, or so it appears, how the hell should I know? I mean I do have friends, somewhere there across the ocean, and when I do (or did) see them I am/was still able to have fun, talk about ordinary stuff and dance to a beautiful song by The Cure at a night club. So I'm not completely lost, I know that, but I'm not really there either, am I?

Choices and voices

So today I'm starting over again, whatever that means I'm not sure yet. Was at my shrink's today and now I've got it confirmed that I actually have a phobia for sleep. It's about time! I told her I thought of my new addiction to sleep deprivation probably is a defence mechanism for my hypnophobia, which is also in itself a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism for a defence mechanism. She said my analysis was very accurate.

Alas, it took her three meetings so acknowledge my hypnophobia, it also took me three meetings to understand what she wanted me to do about it. (There's a motion image of a dancing female blood elf on my mind, very distracting). So, what she wants me to do is to simply let go. Stop thinking about sleep or the lack there of. Stop thinking that I "have to" sleep at night and be awake at day or at all. I did that for one night, and it made me feel a bit better, but I wasn't sure that was the right thing to do. Sometimes I don't get her, my new shrink, I have to admit that.

Am I gonna keep counting hours again, or really try to let go and... yeah, do what exactly? How does "letting go" actually work in practice? Haven't figured that one out yet. Now I've gotta eat again... annoying, but I get so cranky if I don't, and this pain in my stomach is close to paralyzing.

I don't feel very well today/tonight. I've messed up too much again. To the point of it leaving me apathetic. The glue on the bandage tape is starting to irritate my skin, after days and days of constant usage. I don't feel pathetic or tragic or sad or distressed. I don't feel anything. I'm doomed to feel this way, like this week, this summer, this decade - for the rest of my life. It both scares and comforts me. The fear is self explanatory, I take it, but the comfort? This is the life that I'm used to living, knowing it well and knowing what to expect. And if it keeps being this way, at least I know what to expect, sort of. I know myself better than most people know themselves. Yet, or maybe because of that, the void I'm staring into is staring back at me.

I'm snapping in and out of trusting in the voices, and my wacky beliefs - and recognising them for being... well, deluded. It's true that I some days do think they are fictions of my imagination, not real and what not. But most days I just can't. I know they are real. For crying out loud, I'm a Satanist, how the hell would I ever believe that the voice of Satan himself talking to me is a hallucination? That Anna who's been with for as long as I can remember, my friend and my foe, to not be an actual person? That I have memories from my past life since early childhood, always believed in magic and that I can do it, always known that I'm not human - to believe that isn't true? But if I'm self diagnosed Schizophrenic, doesn't that contradict those beliefs? Yes, it does. But I suppose that only further confirm my conclusion. And confusion. And more so.

I'm stuck in those thoughts again, still trying to understand. What being Schizophrenic really means, if I could actually have it. What that would make of me, the world as I know it, my fucked up reality. Is it an identity, is that what I'm making of it? Gosh, I hope not... But you never know with me, I never know with me. But it feels, right deep into my heart, like when you realise something important. So my gut feeling definitely tells me this is it, but my gut isn't a psychologist.

Wrapped up in myself

My nightly dreams are so sweet and romantic as of lately, that they are a cruel joke. They taunt me and my love haunts me in them. I've been hesitating to write more about him in this blog, not sure what to say when I don't wanna say too much, or too little. He's been on my mind a lot more since the last week, and I know why. It's like I can't let go. I cling to a memory, repeating it over and over and keep analysing every little detail of what I can remember. Believe it or not, I'm even more obsessed now than ever.

There's been so much on my mind lately, and I suppose that's why I've been cutting like crazy. All of it just increased sevenfold within a few days and I got from not cutting at all, rarely taking anxiolytic drugs and not being psychotic - to cutting several, multiple times a day, constantly popping pills and drifting in and out of psychosis faster than I can say "pyjamas".

Of course I don't regret going to Uppsala, it's the best thing that's happened in over a year! Yet, yes it had it's downsides as well... I knew I was in pretty bad shape when I went, so I expected to reach a new peak or two, so I did have that in mind when I decided to go for it. But some things I didn't expect. Like... that I would meet him.

And I can just say that my feelings are confirmed, to say the least. He is real, and I'm not in love with an imaginary person, unless I hallucinated away half a weekend. Before, it was only written words, music and pictures that my obsession revolved around. Now it's so much more. I believe that is why I can't stop my mind from racing haywire night and day. Now I'm addicted to his smile, drowning in his eyes, obsessed about his personality and wrapped tightly around his heart.

A lot has been going on. My hypnophobia is as bad as ever, it still takes from 3 to 5 or even up to 8 hours to fall asleep. It usually goes like this:
1) Have minor anxiety until I take Lergigan and Mirtazapine as usual at ten in the evening/night.
2) Have moderate anxiety leading to a few cuts on my arms and an Imovane until around three in the morning.
3) Have major anxiety leading to more cuts, Zyprexa, a second Imovane and music on the loudest possible volume at somewhere between four and eight in the morning.
4) Eventually crashing from exhaustion between five and nine in the morning.

Every god damned night, it has been this way, for over a month now. A part of me just wanna give up, trying to stay awake forever instead of trying to sleep, as I did before. I don't know how to deal with this, and it's not going away, no matter what I do. I turn every room I ever sleep in into a place of anxiety and hopelessness. This fear... it's so irrational and stupid. Why do I have to have an irrational and stupid fear of something so simple and necessary!?

And then this psychosis thing that's been going on as well... Self harm, Schizophrenia, hypnophobia, suicide and my love are things that never really leave my mind. These two weeks those have all attacked me at once, taunting and haunting me. I can't think clear, everything is up side down and inside out no matter how I twist and turn it. It's been a lot of that lately, I don't "shift" between focusing on one thing and the next moment I think about something else. Now it's allover the place and confusing the hell out of me. Noticed that when I was at a meeting with a doctor who will help me quit smoking, and she asked me what mental problems I have. I couldn't think of anything!

How thinking about everything can lead you to at the same time think about nothing. Total space blank. The music, the screams, the laughter and the cries, the small talk and the big conversations turns into white noise. Blue, black, white, green, red and yellow turns into a grey-brown mass. So there I was, so wrapped up in a million thoughts that I couldn't think about anything at all.

This madness will eat me alive

The song "This maniac's in love with you" by Alice Cooper just popped up on the playlist, and wow that song speaks to me now! "My heart has been strapped in a straight jacket love..." I suppose it needs no explanation. Sometimes those songs I've been listening to for years suddenly get a new meaning to them.

Gosh, I can't even focus on writing a few sentences. What's up with me today? These days I mean, or these weeks, no these months... alright, I get it. I've slowly been losing my mind for months. Been getting worse than before lately. "It takes all I got to survive, this madness will eat me alive." Maybe I should let Alice Cooper speak for me instead?

Yeah, so things have been getting worse. First off, increased mood swings. Then self harm/destruction got out of control. Alcoholism, starvation, sleep deprivation and what not. Then more psychotic stuff emerged, experienced a few delusions, started hearing more voices than just Anna's and had what I believe was a full blown psychosis. Then followed lovesickness and hypnophobia. I started to sum these things up with my past and made the self diagnosis Schizophrenia which I think is the most accurate self diagnosis I've made.

And now I'm just living all the symptoms of it, in various degrees. Like incoherent thoughts, weird delusions and not knowing if things are real or not. Oh, and telling all the voices to shut the fuck up. Still telling myself it might be something else than Schizophrenia, but I suppose it's just or mostly because I don't want that.

I'd rather have something else that is actually fixable. Something that isn't quite that horrible and condemning and will last for the rest of my life. And the only treatment is medication that makes me a zombie. Hoping that I can come up with a more pleasant self diagnosis, but I doubt that I will.

I'm having tactile hallucinations lately, and they're very annoying. Yesterday I felt the floor was shaking, like someone stomped around in my apartment, but when I looked around obviously no one was there. I'm losing sensation in various body parts as well, which is kinda creepy. Though only for a while and then it comes back. There's this spot on my back, one on my right thigh and one on my left arm. It doesn't tingle or anything, just completely numb, as if it was frozen but it's warm. Very strange.

I just hate it how Schizophrenia fits so perfectly. Cause if Borderline really was the right diagnosis then I wouldn't have gotten worse from the treatment for it, for symptoms that I don't have.

It could be

I told my mother that I hear more than just Anna's voice in my head nowadays, but I didn’t tell who they are. A goblin from World of Warcraft, Satan and raspy unidentifiable voices. I suppose I just thought it would sound stupid to say that. The shrinks idea about me having ADHD came up, and I told my mother that I just tell the shrinks that my head is full of thoughts as a cover up for all the voices that I hear. All the voices? Yeah, it's not just Anna anymore... So ADHD is off the table, unofficially. That was when she said it could be Schizophrenia. That made me kinda baffled, but sort of in a positive way, like an approval or something.

I was surprised about that, since she has never said I could have a diagnosis/condition before. But we both agreed on that it probably wouldn't be helpful having that diagnosis on paper, especially considering the sex change process I’m going through. So obviously we left that out at the meeting today, as usual. We never speak about my hallucinations and delusions there. I told my mother that I’m sort of planning on finding out about that after I’ve legally changed from female to male gender identity, mostly because I’m so damn curious about if I could get diagnosed schizophrenic.

Oh and I did add my sister on tumblr, by the way. She's weird! I guess it's hereditary, weirdness I mean. It completely is, by the way. I don't think I have/had any normal family members or relatives. They're all either hermits (my parents), drunks, on antidepressants, deluded (my grandfather didn't brush his teeth in over 30 years), demented or hysteric. What goes around comes around, and stuff like that. 

How to have fun in misery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Afraid to sleep

I'm starting to wonder if I might have developed some sort of hypnophobia, or somniphobia. It's not that I can't fall asleep, it's something else... I deliberately keep myself awake, though I don't really want to, I drink insane amounts of caffeine, and I slip my sleeping meds. I'm afraid of sleeping, and of falling asleep. It's hard to say why, but mostly I think it's because of the loss of control cause I can't control how long I’m gonna be asleep for. I don't just hate it when I sleep for 24 hours straight, it feels I’m being trapped. That I can't get up no matter what I do. Also nightmares and night terrors aren't so cozy looking forward to... Yeah, I just keep finding new depths of everything. I had this back in June as well, but it got sorted out at the psych-ward when they pumped me full of sleeping meds. Apparently the problem wasn't completely solved. But did my lovesickness trigger this hypnophobia or are they entirely unrelated?

How will I get a better sleeping pattern if I won't even take my sedatives? I'm frigging sitting here with a horrible stomachache, slight nausea, headache and I’m so fucking exhausted but keep gulping energy drinks and watching horror movies to keep myself awake. For some reason this has taken the upper hand now, and it's causing a distress I haven't been able to put my finger on until now. It's got it's own little file in my mind somehow. Jeez... I don't know what to do with this! If I get admitted again the same thing will happen again: they'll stuff me full with pills and force me to bed at night for a week or so, and they I’ll get back to this. Cause they can't medicate my fear away. Wonder if Adelina is still there, by the way?

No, not the time to think about girls. Or any other wonderful people I’m a nobody to. Or anyone else for that matter. Fuck, I’m over her anyway, barely even knew her. I’ve only got eyes for one person and he's not here. And maybe I should just get admitted again? I’m not suicidal but I think I could qualify for a few days rest there or something. It's not like they even provide suicide watch there. Stupid morons. Wonder how many completed suicides happened there! It was like they took for granted you would surrender yourself blindly to their care by coming there as suicidal. Hello? Did anyone there have a medical education?! Suicidal people can't think straight, they're blinding themselves with massive feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness and all the other lessnesses! That's why you go there, cause you need someone else to save you from yourself!

Okay, enough about that. I’m not suicidal, I just forgot how to survive. They say the summer is over now, but mine isn't. If I keep saying this is an awful summer, can't the autumn just wait until I get a little better? So that I won't have to say it's been awful summer and autumn? Cause that is too long, two seasons awfulness is just too damn much.

I live just a website away

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

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

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

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

In my perception

Just drank a cup of extra strong coffee (seriously super strong) and my heart is beating its way out of my chest, I’m sweating, dizzy and my stomach hurts. Great job, excellent idea! What the hell was I thinking?! I’m lost inside my thoughts and scared of falling asleep. Just wanted to stay awake. I can't go to sleep unfinished, but I never get finished nowadays. My insides are eating me from within. I don't know what this is. I'm lovesick, so I stopped eating and sleeping. Which caused me to hallucinate, get scared of sleeping and completely lose my appetite. The forced upon me insomnia became a chase controlled by caffeine. My imploding mind scared me and now I can't stop thinking about the things I’ve seen that wasn't real. One thing always leads to another, but I won't know where it leads me until I’m there. It scares me and thrills me.

This is exactly the kind of moments I should start gnawing on those Zyprexa pills. Need to tell my mother to bring me more of those, they will be much needed and appreciated. What would I do without tiny little pills with unpronounceable ingredients, to make my inner monsters go away? I’d be dead by now, but I wonder since how long? Not that long, I think, a couple of years or so. I still sometimes think that I actually am dead. Just haven't realised it yet. That I’m a ghost, still hanging around in the world of the living without realising I’m not alive anymore. That thought scares me, that I could be stuck in some sort of limbo. Limbos always scare me, I’ve been in a few. You feel so lost, hopeless and helpless then. Like there's literally nothing you can do, someone else is holding your life in their hands, you're left with two options which each will shatter your world and there is no third option. Of course matters can be resolved, cause they did for me, but I that moment you're so very vulnerable. And I think I am in one right now.

I believe in too much, I believe in everything. Well, not blindly, but yeah, I do think there's a possibility for absolutely everything to be real. Dragons, God, conspiracy theories, other dimensions, time travel, aliens, heaven and hell, reincarnation, demons and angels, luck, curses, magic, spirits or ghosts, telepathy, and oh damn this is my illness talking... I just watched an episode of the fairly new tv-show “Perception” about a Schizophrenic neurologist who sometimes works for the FBI. If anyone remember or have seen the show “Will & Grace” - it is he in the lead role. Anyways, in this episode that I just watched he had found some clinic to help a girl get rid of her OCD, a cure (which was obviously fake by the way, that's the annoying thing about this show. If you have any clue about mental illness and treatments for them, you'll notice there's a lot of shit the creators have made up. Also there was an episode based on a known case of teenage girls getting tics after having some sort of surgery, but in this episode it was about a murder. That annoyed me cause they changed a real story to something incredibly stupid...) Where was I? Yes, he said at the end of the episode that “if there's a cure for one mental illness, there will be cures for others in the future”.

I was close to tears when I thought of that. That a cure would be nice. For whatever it is that I have. Asperger is the only diagnose I know is real. Or no, sometimes I doubt that too. Cause it just doesn't fit with all the other shit. And the likeness between Asperger Syndrome and Schizophrenia is striking. I could have the other and neither Asperger or Borderline. I could have only Asperger and something else altogether that's causing my hallucinations and all the other signs of Schizophrenia... No, who am I kidding, it's spot on. I wish it wasn't, but I can't deny the hell I’m living or my obsessive compulsive psycho-analysis on myself. But I’ve reached the end now, haven't I? This is it, I won't come any closer to the truth. Unless... I should buy some books about it! I might not be able to get in to a psychology class, but I could at least do some research on my own.

Oh my god, pills now! There, taken. I took them last night too, two pills that dissolves in my mouth. They're pretty effective, which is amazing, since hardly anything works on my anxiety. Except for strong benzo and no sane doctor will give me that. Pricks! Well, okay I’d probably OD on them if I had some, but still! Zyprexa is actually an antipsychotic, which I think is very good since I’m closer to paranoia and hallucinations triggering each other, rather than an actual anxiety attack.

Okay, that's enough for now. I’ll give you an update or something when the pills have kicked in. Meanwhile I’m listening to “Schizophrenia” by Funker Vogt on repeat. Just freaking love that song! Too bad I can't hear what is sung in it, and lyrics are nowhere to be found...

I'm praying to the Devil again... feels like I’ve done that a lot lately. Some things he can help me with, others he can't. I just don't really know which, so I’m praying either way. If I was a Christian and prayed to their god, everyone would be all cheerful and say “oh my god, that's so good!” or something. Well, my god isn't so bad either! He's just been judged and hated for going his own way and saying “fuck that shit” when others try to strap him down. It's not so strange why I’m drawn to him.