From the other side of the glass door

Oh my god... we just shifted. Me and Anna. She wanted to, urged me to let her take my place, and I felt eager about it as well. She wanted me to masturbate with her, to let her feel it the way she wanted to, and during that jerk off as I tried my best to please her, we gradually switched places. At orgasm, the shift was complete. Immediately after she thrusted out of bed and nearly tipped over at how our body's weight surprised her. And she stumbled us into the shower... oh my god, she is so dysphoric about how we look, it was so painful to see and feel how wrong she felt in her own skin. In the shower she kept asking me "what next" and "what do I do now" as I guided her to how I usually clean myself. She was excited about the shift like she had been freed, and I paid attention to her clumsy, feminine movements. She told me I shouldn't use so much soap for our pussy, that it wasn't good for it, and took a much smaller amount than I usually do. And washed it much more gently and carefully while inspecting it. That weirded me out a little, but let her have at it. She was on the other hand very fucking rough with my hair and it kept breaking in her hands while I yelled at her (in thoughts) to pleeeaaase be careful with the damn hair!

She really felt awful about my beard though and begged me to not force her to clean it. I said please, it's gonna itch if you don't and you will hate that even more. She sighed out in noticable pain as she said okay and very hastily washed it with my regular schampo and barely even rinsed it. But I mean I'm thankful she actually managed to do that at all. I'm proud of my girl. She also had a lot of issue with my body hair in general and was particularly grossed out by that on my stomach. But she also sighed out "even my arms are so hairy". Eventually she just had enough of our naked body so stepped out of the shower and struggled with the towel for a while and said it was because she's never bloody used a towel before. I guided her a lot with her movements and I was partially in them, but I didn't and couldn't take over completely. Not like she would let me! But she was also very thankful for my guidance to help her move. And she got more stable and secure as she kept doing stuff, and eventually she didn't need my guidance at all.

After drying up she got really excited about clothes and asked me glisteningly if I had any dresses lying around before she happily stormed out of the bathroom towards the big wardrobe in my bedroom. There she rifled around for quite a while before she found a long, flowy skirt made of a transparent black fabric over a light beige satin-like fabric. She really liked that skirt and her smile felt warm within me. Then she asked me about panties cause she didn't want to wear men's underwear and I was like... "I don't think I have any of those..." But lo and behold, she actually found a pair that I had stuffed into a moving box in my living room. They were regular shape, ivory coloured and partially silk-like, partially lace. She slipped them on under the skirt and instantly felt relief while she happily exclaimed "panties!" So uhm, yeah...

Oh yeah, all the time she kept hiding her chest with her arms and talking about wanting to find a bra somewhere as well. She did find a purple one in that same moving box (that used to fit our B-cup chest before I had top surgery, it was the last bra I bought before op, sometime in 2012, for drag) and when she put it on and cupped her hands around the empty bra cups she said it felt better, that it didn't need to be much, just something. She also found a wrap-around women's short sleeved shirt there that she noticed matched the skirt perfectly. I told her I had never noticed those two garments would go together before. Huh.

When she was done assembling an outfit she said she wanted to see it in a mirror but also not. She said she didn't want to see her face... it was sooo painful for me when she walked towards the mirror with her hands covering her face, near panicking over what she'd see in the mirror. I told her she could try to just cover the beard with her hands and eventually she dared to look and shyed away from the mirror gasping, then looked again, looked away, tried to only focus on what was below her neck until she saw chest hair and panicked again. She said she only saw me in the mirror and I could feel that pain that basically steamed off from her... it was so intense... Her voice was only slightly higher than mine and softly raspy, I noticed it was difficult for her to find some pitch she could work with, but her tone sounded much more natural to her, more feminine and melodic than mine. I told her that she sounded different in my head, to which she said "I'm not in your head now" meaning that she's different when she's freed.

Then she walked over towards the balcony exclaiming she really needed a cigarette. I asked her if she wanted shoes and literally not even a second later she turned and stubbed her toe into a chair and yelled "yes! shoes would be good!" I thought that was pretty funny. She walked over to the vestibule and looked at a pair of shoes I bought at a thrift store some weeks ago. "What about these? You never wore them" she said and picked up one of them. I said they might not go with the outfit but she insisted. They are kinda sneakers, but in a kinda goth style with a black lace print on a black background. Then she walked out for a smoke, held the cigarette in her right hand where as I always hold it in my left. And she blew out the smoke, where as I always just breathe it out. She stood by the house wall on our balcony, in a shyly, yet proudly womanly pose, almost like a photo model in a fashion magazine. She gazed out at the neighbourhood below us, and said she wanted to go outside. I told her please not to, that people would think we're a drag queen. It upset her but she agreed it would be a bad idea. I felt she wasn't feeling well, close to passing out so I urged her to please sit down on the chair. She didn't want to but eventually caved in and agreed it was probably a good idea.

Her dysphoria was really the most prominent out of everything. I had no idea it was that intense... and she said she didn't know that either. That it took her by surprise. She was close to crying as she kept accidentally touching my beard and it freaked her out every single time.
"Please let me shave it" she pleaded with me while holding back tears. I told her:
"No, please, I love my beard... please don't do that"
"Okay I won't, I know you love it... but I can't bear it... please think about it? For a next time?"
"I'll think about it..."
"Please actually think about it, don't just say you will!"
"I'll try..."
"How long does it take to grow it out?"
"I don't know, about a month or two..."
"Fuck, that's long... I don't even have breasts anymore, but the beard is worse. I can't hide it"
...she said and what really struck me there was that, although it pained her so much, she didn't want to make it worse for me. If we're gonna switch more often, we really do need to think of a solution to the beard situation, cause that was just too fucking painful for me to be crushed under her reaction to it. And I want for her to feel at least a bit more free.

I called her a lady as she walked inside again and it made her almost dance a little as she said "you're the only one who's ever gonna call me that" which saddened me a lot, but at the same time... I kinda wanted to think I'll let her out more and even let her pass as a woman... I didn't really feel any noticable dysphoria myself when it was her in control over our body, despite her efforts to present it as female. I was way too busy being nearly crushed by the weight of her dysphoria. And it's way too difficult of a situation to try to handle when I get dysphoric over looking female and she gets dysphoric over looking male. What that means for me being trans... I have not yet figured out... but I got a slight fear that maybe I was wrong about being trans, when I felt her extreme dysphoria over my male traits. I don't know how to react to that at all. Was it even my own feeling or was it not?

She wanted something to eat and told me I do that too seldom, but then her own lack of appetite reminded her of why. She made a cup of tea and took some cake from the fridge. She barely took two bites of the cake as it turned in her stomach. But the tea soothed her as she also smoked another two cigarettes. I asked her to turn on my phone so that I could look at my screenshot picture of one of my WoW characters. A very pale, undead blood elf with azure blue coloured hair, eyes and a small goatee on his friendly face.
"You like looking at his face" she said as she picked up the phone from a small waistbag, that she had earlier said also matched her outfit, that was very black and bronze through every garment, including that bag. She put the phone with the picture up on her lap and let me look at it.
"I can see why like him. He has a very soothing smile, like he wants to comfort, and like he's very understanding and accepting" she said.
"I know. That's why I like looking at him so much" I responded.

For that last cigarette she smoked she kept accidentally touching my beard much more and it bothered her really a lot. I tried to help her figure out some way to hold the cigarette that wouldn't let her keep touching it but didn't manage to find such a way. She kept twitching and forcing back tears, she was tense to the point of physical pain and I knew that her emotional pain and sadness had increased massively to the point of it being unbearable for her. A very familiar image popped up in my mind and I said:
"You're the woman I keep imaging I could have been in a distant future... that mental picture that keeps following me... I always thought it was somehow me in a way I couldn't understand, but... it's you" as I shivered at the thought.
"Yes, that is me" she confirmed. I recognised it in her body language and the softly stern, almost ageless feminine vibes she gave me, as she gently played with the fabric of the skirt in soft, small, circular motions and gazed into the air above the street below us. I know now why that image has been haunting me ever since my teens... that's how she saw her own future. It was never a weird distant dream of my own that I couldn't make sense of... it was her dream... and I took it from her.

"How old are you?" I asked her gently.
"Your age. Kind of. I couldn't age the same way you did. I never felt like an adult, and I never felt like a child" she answered. It made me realise just how very damaged she was. All the anger and hate she had released onto me, was really just immense pain that she hadn't known what to possibly do with. Like a wild animal trapped in her shrinking cage, she had bit the hand of her master who had starved her. How could I ever blame her? I simply cannot.

"Please take care of that stuff after me, okay?" she said and shook her head in the direction of the plate with the cake she couldn't eat and the empty tea cup that stood on the table.
"Yes of course" I replied.

She took a next drag and pulled it in deeply, very deeply as though she tried to suck out all the poison in it at once, before she put it out and got back inside. She almost cried, struggling to release the tears as she said:
"I want to switch back now... it hurts too much... please I need to go back..." and I tried to comfort her yet feeling a constant fuck I want to go back too...
"We should lie down in bed, maybe that way we can switch back. I'll remove the clothes for you first so it won't make you dysphoric. Keep them close, so I can wear them again next time." she said calmly with a very sad voice. Back indoors again her sadness nearly compressed her, immensely strong, as she slowly undressed herself, and when she took off the panties lastly she pointed at them and said in the most heartbreakingly sad voice I've ever heard:
"Little stain" as I know that our genitals is the only thing female she has left to hold onto. Now I really fucking understand why she panicked so incredibly hard to the point of threatening to cut our post-op genitals up, when I contemplated getting bottom surgery a year ago. She loves her pussy really a lot. Much more than I can even begin to fathom. Oh how fucking horrible I feel. What have I done to her?

She lied down in our bed and put a hand on my shoulder as we both begged each other and ourselves to switch back again, both scared what if we'll be stuck like that. She promised me we wouldn't, but then she started fearing it too. I started panicking as she told me to breathe and relax, that it would help then. I tried my best and I told her to lie as still as she could. I told her in my panic:
"I love you" and she responded with a vague whisper:
"I love you too" and then cleared her throat and said it again, clearer to let me hear it properly. It was incredibly soothing. Eventually our body felt different to me, more familiar again and for a moment I held my breath before I flew out of bed and gasped out "it worked! oh my god it worked!" and then I fell into a heavy cry. I cried for her... for the tears she couldn't release herself.

Then I stroke and held my beloved beard thankful I didn't let her shave it, and put on as masculine clothes as I could find. I felt her movements still lingering in my limbs as I shook them to find my own movements again, and I felt an intense need to smoke even though technically it can't even have been two minutes since that last cigarette she smoked... but I craved cigarettes as though it had been hours. Well, for me it had been. I looked at the plate of barely nibbled on cake and it was so strange. It was as if I was staring at someone else's left-overs. It didn't feel at all like it was my own mouth that had eaten those two bites, when their absense stared back at me.

The song we both listened to intently on repeat during our shift still played on the phone. It's the first and only song I've ever heard her say that she liked, and she tried to sing along to it while she made tea in the kitchen. I'm gonna need to hold onto that one. It's "Von den Elben" by a German group called Faun. It's a ballad in a medieval inspired style. It sounds like a lullaby. I just looked up what the title means in English and fuck it made me let out a sudden and hard cry... I don't know much German so I didn't know... but it means "from the same."

So now I've gotten to know her even better. And I know I don't have to fear her. Her pain, dysphoria, sadness and remorse are so extreme... but her heart is warm, like that cup of tea she drank deeply. She's been trapped in me for so long it drove her mad and dangerous. And me transforming the only thing she had... her body, into something she couldn't stand... I have no idea why she forgives me, but probably for the same reason that I forgive her for that she raped me. Now we're licking each other's permanent wounds and comfort each other, instead of yelling and creating new wounds. It is beautiful, what we have now. I feel a strong love for her and acceptance, and I know she feels the same for me. I've never felt this close to her before. She's like a book character that never made into an actual book, scrapped by last second, but remained on the tip of my tongue in a half finished sentence. She's that dreamy cocktail queen who mourns the life she could never have, somewhere far away. She's a shadow of a person, yearning to have her own body.

Wow, and here I complain about being stuck on an island... really puts things into perspective. Her pain is also mine, but it's not entirely the same, cause we have different perspectives on everything we've been through. We are not like twins, but more like two strangers too different to get along, but forced to stay and stick together. I need to heal her as much as I need to heal myself. But where do I even start?

Waiting

I see him everywhere. In pictures, and in real life. I know it isn't him, but my mind somehow interprets it that way. It's not like I think he looks like everyone or that everyone look like him. Cause that's really not the case. It's more like I just want it to be him. That it would be him walking past me on the street in Hemse, that he would somehow be here, close to me. If only to just say hi or even just a quick wave.

I need him so damn much, but he doesn't need me. I crave, long, ache for him. I'm trying to find substitutes but nothing works. Like holding ice can be a substitute for self harm but it doesn't quite cut it, you know what I mean? Yes, pun intended.

I'm so terribly lonely and sad. Wishing I could shift back to the light me again, but I'm coping better this way. And like this I don't have to "fear" shifting again. Cause it's better to shift from dark to light than the other way around, for some reason. I wouldn't say either is more positive or negative, but I like the lighter half better. It's because the dark half is triggered, the light isn't. I shift back when I'm ready or something and then shift to dark again when triggered by something bad. Apparently either state lasts about a few days.

My distractions aren't working today. And writing like this is hardly a distraction at all, rather the opposite. I play a lot of WoW, but I don't really want to. It doesn't help or anything. Just passing time cause I can't think of anything better to do. Putting cloth heirlooms on a balance druid. Well, intellect is good and I level faster. Who cares that I might come off as the noob I am? I don't have leather heirlooms yet.

I write so much and can't decide what I want to share or not. Most of it I don't want to share. A lot of rantings about K mostly. My worries and fears. I'm gonna try to go to sleep soon. Enough waiting for today. Yeah, I'm waiting every day now, for him. I'm restless and upset, something is ripping and tearing inside me. Not so fun going to sleep like this, but it's 3:47 and I can't stay up waiting for something that won't happen.

Never give up

I felt happy for two months before I started falling apart again. Somehow I wish I had done more to prolong that happiness, but instead I kept isolating myself, starved and disappeared into my computer. But I respect that, I respect that I was afraid to go all out at the risk of losing the little happiness I had instead of gaining more. Because stress is never a good thing when it comes to my mood.

But I haven't lost all hope, I guarantee you. I still hope and dream and almost kinda expect a better future now. Just almost on that last part, but it's better than it used to be before in my life. But I'm falling again, into the old and new dark places. I know I'm not meant to be happy, but I'm trying to beat the odds. I'd rather die trying than give up, you know. But I don't know how or what to do. I need to ask my shrink that, maybe she's got some advice.

Cause just trying not to do things isn't quite working anymore. I don't know why, but I fall into temptation and it's hard when I lose control. So many things upset me, everything from my acne to my inability to be a part of the society and all else in between. And being so easily upset upsets me even more.

It's like maybe my lack of eating habits is finally taking control over me. Being constantly hungry can make anyone upset. It's not the best thing trying to lose weight when you're feeling like shit, but when else am I gonna do it? It's in my state of mind, it is my mind to feel like shit. Whenever, wherever, all the time. I know I take risks by doing so, and I also know it's not recommended to starve at all.

I'm slowly developing an eating disorder and I just sit here and do nothing about it. Cause if I get an eating disorder I will definitely lose weight. And yes, I realise just how wrong that sounds. I'm not stupid, I know I'm taking huge risks by keeping this from my doctors. I keep fooling them, telling them I eat very little and try to lose weight but I don't tell them that I'm desperate to lose weight, obsessed by it, willing to do anything for it. About my very poor body image or that I'm pro-ana.

I play a twisted game with doctors, manipulating and fooling them to believe what I want them to believe. I'm not quite in my right mind. Cause I seek doctors to help me but then I don't let them help me. I've been in this carousel for too long, too long to know how to fool them. That I know they make the priorities about what I should get help for first and I don't like that. So I only tell them about what I want to get help for and keep the rest from them. If I wanted help for my eating problems I would gladly discuss that. If I didn't have to worry about telling them about my psychotic tendencies, I would gladly tell them about that too.

But they are just as much stuck in a rut as I am. They have their guidelines and rules to follow. To them, my self harm and suicidal tendencies come first, and my basic needs like food and sleep come second. Then the psychotic stuff seemed to have come third when I was open about that several years ago. My priorities is everything else. At every damn meeting there is truth I have to withhold, and it completely drains me, trying to figure out what to say in denial. I've had some practise, but I have no idea if I'm a good liar or not. Maybe it depends on who I'm lying to.

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.

The darker half

I had a meeting with that welfare officer again today, and I was pretty blunt with her. She noticed my personality change and said I was different this time. I don't know what to think of that, didn't think it was actually that noticeable.

Anyway, I finally asked her why we're having these meetings, what's her role in this whole deal. She said my doctor (who left me) wanted me to have someone to check up on me meanwhile I'm waiting for another doctor. Especially regarding self harm and suicidal thoughts. She got worried, that welfare officer, that I wasn't gonna see my shrink until August again. I told her I could just get in contact with my shrink whenever if I needed her. She still didn't want to let go of me.

Fucking cunt, I despise her. I don't need more people who think they need to look after me. My whole life is care takers and shrinks and doctors and I'm so sick of it. So sick of being treated like I'm a fragile little glass doll. I might not be able to take care of myself, but I'm very capable of making my own decisions.

I'm on a waiting list to see my new doctor, which will probably be sometime in June. I really need to see her, cause I think I need to up my Abilify, but don't know how to handle that. I need it for my psychotic tendencies, but I can't mention that. Seriously, I'm shifting personalities and seeing signs and messages everywhere. I'm on the brink again and I really don't want to fall down into that black abyss again.

So I don't know how to handle that. I finally succeeded to get antipsychotic drugs, but they're not doing shit and I can't tell doctors that I'm psychotic. Someone please kill me now... I don't know how much longer I can handle this on my own.

Shit, I'm still the dark me and I can't shift back. What if one day I get stuck like this? If I one day can never shift back? I realise that when I was reckless and didn't care about anyone, when I had thoughts of cannibalism and murder with sociopathic tendencies, when I was cold and heartless: I was the dark me. I don't want to fully become that. It scares me. Maybe I have no reason to worry, but it still scares me.

Even if I don't need to worry, I still believe there is a small chance of that to happen. I've heard about it before, in other people's cases. So I have heard about it before then? Not necessarily personality shifts as such, but of people who have been through traumas that they start to shut down eventually, gradually, until they're not themselves anymore. I'm afraid of that happening to me.

I'm just making it worse by not doing anything about it. I'm getting desperate. I'm not even sure that antipsychotic drugs can help me with that. I need to talk it out with my shrink, but first I need to survive the summer and the autumn and possibly the winter as well. Yeesh, things are going so damn slow and I'm falling so fast.

I really hoped I could meet them in Huddinge and fill out the papers for Rättsliga Rådet already this summer, but of course they're all on leave/vacation. I really hoped I could get my gender reassigned before the autumn, but no. And then things will take even longer after that. I have don't have all the time in the world, okay? Don't think they realise that, cause I won't tell them why. Just hurry the fuck up you fuckers, I don't wanna be stuck like this forever.

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.

The body we share

I suddenly feel a bit sorry for my body, what it has to go through. It's the price of dealing with its unkind hosts. Me and Anna, colliding and end up damaging our poor, shared body and mind.

She is a bit upset about my surgery by the way. She says I shouldn't have done it, and I know that she misses the tits. She is female after all, and through all of my transition she's become more and more detached from our shared body. It's unfamiliar to her. But my well being is more important than hers. I try to comfort her though, that she can still be a woman even though she won't look like one.

In all of our life together she's always been the cisgendered and I the transgender, but now the roles are reversed. I might be selfish, but there really is no way I could compromise with that. What I can do is to make her comfortable with the fact that I do want to and will let her express her femininity from time to time. Been thinking of buying a wig for her, something cheap, with straight, long, light/medium brown hair that I can style to fit her needs. Buy a simple brown dress for her. Maybe even a bra if I feel brave enough. It wouldn't be a problem for me, just every once in a while, to let her live a little.

But yeah, I want people to be able to get to know her, if she is in fact is the second half of me, that we two together combined would create the real me. And if that would ever happen, or if not, I still want people to meet her. Yes I'm thinking something like a body switch, and I "become" her for a little while while she's exploring the world and get to know you guys who she really is.

I can't believe I've waited so long to come to that decision! Maybe because we hadn't figured out how to "switch" until rather recently.

When she's steering the wheel, I would be the voice in her head and mostly not be able to speak up loudly, so all I can do basically, is only guiding her from inside our mind. It's kinda creepy and a bit scary to be locked inside my own mind like that. But I believe it could be worth it. After all, I am the one who's got the upper hand in our unusual situation.

Though to others I might seem just as crazy as I try to tell you that I am. (I mean I don't just throw around the word "crazy" as a fashion statement, I really am, you know). "Me" running around in a dress and a wig, constantly complaining, afraid and curious about seeing the whole world in a completely new perspective. Talking in a higher pitch that doesn't really hold, with obvious feminine manners. And then I'd change back to the real me again. I would look and seem like a total fail drag show with strong tendencies to being bat shit crazy.

Maybe I should just take her out for some shopping first. Letting her pick something she'd wanna wear. Cause I just want for people to see who's been invading my mind for the last sixteen years of my life. Wouldn't you like to meet her? I mean, like really face to face? I'm sure she'd have quite some stories to tell. What we went through through her perspective, things I might not even know about. You'd have to be careful with her though. I don't think she's ever interacted with another living person before.

Her body image is very far from my own, so the way I look now is way far from how she pictures herself looking. And well, she's not comfortable with the way I've changed with testosterone and the surgery I had done. But I'll try my best for her to look as feminine or not she wants to be.

She's my polar opposite. She hates what I love and loves what I hate. She's not very tactic, more extrovert than me, more feminine in her manners than I've ever been. She's more logical than emotional, lacks empathy and has a bit of a superior complex. She's drawn to nature and living an as healthy lifestyle she possibly can with me completely ignoring it. A little towards that new age kinda thing. She would probably be living in a forest or at a farm if we didn't share bodies. She's a bit of a hippie, vegetarian, against smoking, drinking and sex. She can be a total bitch but she's smart and curious about the world around her. I think you'd both love her and hate her.

It's hard for me sometimes when I try to understand that she is a part of me, that all of her was once just a part of my personality. She's the light, believing in being healthy and stay true to the nature, she's logical more than emotional, though a bit narcissistic and self absorbed. I one the other hand am dark, into self destruction and indulgent. I'm creative and rely more on my emotions than logical thinking. We're a bit like yin and yang.

Would you want to meet her when I come to Uppsala and Stockholm? I could totally arrange that. If I could only get her out of her shyness for a little while. No parties though, she hates that kind of stuff. Tea in a café or just talking in a park or wherever would be better. Close to nature, but it's not mandatory. I have full understanding for it if you don't want to be seen around people with the crazy person in drag with a split personality.

But yeah, I've been wanting to let her lose a bit more lately. Let her see the world too. Though it would probably feel like walking a dog the first few times. And this is what I love thinking about what shrinks would say about if they were told about this condition, this way of living.

1998

I just realised that I don't remember anything from year 1997. Maybe because everything happened during the year after. When everything changed, forever. Did you know I was raped twice? Though it's hardly a record and nor should it be. It just popped up in my head right now, as I was thinking about the number 97 which is one of my favourite numbers.

Rape, sexual assault. It changes you. And I was so young in 1998. Just nine years old. Did I ever have a childhood? I ask myself. I's almost like I was born unhappy and then people went and made my life even crappier. It's not so strange I hated elementary school. But my hatred towards it wasn't actually directed to schools as such, cause I really liked going to other schools later on. I guess I just hated my class and school mates back then. They weren't so friendly.

They did that to me. Children, younger than I was. Though I can't even remember all of it. Don't remember how the rest of that day went by, how I felt directly after. I don't remember the rest of the day my second rape happened either. I wonder why. My mother remembered it though. Apparently I was kinda upset.

I guess I just like ranting about the horrible things I went through. Maybe it's a way of facing it, of dealing with it. Maybe I am just crazy and find pleasure in reliving the truly unpleasant. I fantasise about it, how it could have gone differently. For the worse and for the better. Trying to get some perspective. Trying to understand what actually happened, why it happened. How they must have thought and felt. What went through my rapists' minds when the did what they did? Did they think they didn't harm me, or were they cruelly aware of it?

Wonder why I didn't defend myself the second time, in 2007. I knew karate for fucks sake. And I just lied there and took it. I don't understand why. Maybe my fear just paralysed me. So much for learning self defence.

And it just brings me down. How fragile I am, so easily broken. And I wonder if it could happen again, cause I have a feeling that it will happen again someday. I don't know why, but it's like I think the world isn't done fucking me around. At least it gave me Anna as a sad act of forgiveness or something. Cause I still think this is why she came to me. PTSD with dissociation, or DID. My best bet so far as to why I have a split personality. The whole of me split into two people. And most of you only know half of me.

Don't be your own therapist, you just end up getting more entangled in the memories of your traumas. But they're just memories now and they can't hurt me. My scars that will never fully heal. I don't think I've ever heard of another rape victim who's moved on completely from their experience/-s. Cause maybe it just isn't possible.

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 difference between us

Me and my realisations. Doesn't seem to be an end to them, does it? However, one of the most recent ones I had is about Anna. She can't feel or in any way experience love at all. She's never been in love with anyone that I have or haven't, she doesn't love any of my family members or friends, and obviously she doesn't have any of her own. The only other people besides me she could possibly befriend would be Vargyl or Satan, and she totally loathes both of them.

I can't even say that she loves me. It is more of a duty to her, I'm her duty. She came to me as my guardian angel and swore to protect me and that's why she exists in the first place, but it was never out of love. She's still like a guardian, except perhaps the "angel" part. Not really a saint, so to say, and she doesn't always stick to that oath nowadays. Well, we're not kids any more.

It came to my understanding that we are total opposites on that matter, like night and day. That she's completely incapable of feeling love and I'm almost constantly more or less in love with someone (cause honestly, have I ever been out of love since fifth grade?)

I've always been hoping for her to like the same person as I do, that that would somehow make me feel more whole. We are bits and pieces of each other, if not entirely the same person cut in half. So if that's the case, I can't help but wonder how deeply I've ever been in love, how terribly lovesick I've ever been: was/is there a part of me not capable of feeling anything for anyone? And that "part of me" being Anna, I mean.

It's hard for me to think of us as the same person, but in a way I believe that it could most likely be so. It's not exactly common for a person to get a "walk in" spirit or something just moving in to your brain all of a sudden right after a terrible childhood trauma. It just doesn't quite resonate as something like that in our case. It's text book mental disorder.

I know it's a contradiction, but I also truly believe that she is indeed a person of her own, another life form of sorts. I can't explain it, as I've mentioned a gazillion times before. But it has to do with the fact that even if we once were the same person before we split, we definitely aren't any more. We've grown apart, developed different personalities and she has every quality any other real person would have - except for a body of her own. A life of her own, cause she is literally living my life.

So what I'm saying is that I shouldn't invalidate her feelings (or lack there of) just because they aren't equal to mine, and state that it doesn't make me feel "whole" when it just further proves that we aren't the same. In my world it is perfectly possible to not be able to feel love at all; in the same way it's obviously possible for me to feel love so insanely strong and much and out of control it has led me to obsessions, stalker-ish behaviour, heartbreak after heartbreak and at least five suicide attempts just because I got more than I could handle. (Love is supposed to be a positive feeling, right? But too much of anything will break you, or even kill you.)

Perhaps I just want to finally share those feelings with her, want her to know what it's like and be in it together. Cause it pisses me off that she's constantly criticising what she can't understand.