Retribution

I wonder if I'm just too sensitive, socially? I mean, if i pick up on things too easy? You know, something that is supposed to be a small hint becomes a gigantic hint and something that is nothing becomes something. I wonder if I think that the rest of the world is like me and shut up until I (think I) know what is coming out and if I therefore am scared of people who isn't like that?

Why couldn't I have started this journey years ago? I have wasted myself, among other things.

I'm so afraid of failing now. I wish I could see things beyond the mistakes. I wish these pangs of betrayal would go away. I do not want them there. They do not make it easy to sleep at night (I spent last night crying of both sorrow and anger).

Am I feeling all the things I have never let myself feel all at once?

I remember the night when I realized that she was probably in over her head in this. I had never doubted her before. Not like tha. Not about such things. Stupid of my, maybe. If I hadn't had such much faith in her and her... I don't know what to call it. Keen emotions? Selfknowledge? If I hadn't had that faith, maybe I would have tried harder. But she knows herself (or so I believed). I don't know myself. I don't know who I am or what makes me tick or what there really is under and inside me.

For me, there are things you do, things you feel and things you think. And these three are separate, and need to be. Or I don't really know what I will do. I mean it. If I act on my emotiones, jailtime might be needed. Not right now, but in the past.

I don't know what I want to say with this. Maybe just that I have had lifelong training in not showing what I feel about anything to anyone, least of all myself. I don't know.

I feel so far away. I don't like it. I fear it. It is like some kind of nightmare.

Cigarettes, then bed.

And GOD! I want that jacket! Despite it's flaws (like the fact that it is so weird that it will probably only look ridiculous in 1 year, and the fact that I could hardly button it) it was perfect. You see, I like my clothes tight. And this was tight. I think I should try it with a shirt on instead of a T-shirt, to see what it does to the cuffs...

Interesting...

What does Alfred Dreyfus, Nathan Söderblom, Richard Cromwell, Erasmus, Ashikaga Yoshinori, Wolfram von Richthofen and Lon Chaney Jr have in common?

They all died on the 12th of July.

And what is so special about that date?

Weeell...
































140,421 People

10.000 miles and counting

I got that dreadful sense of panic in the pit of my stomach again. Like my whole body just wants to run away. I don't know what I am so nervous about. Maybe it's school, but that is more or less sorted out. Maybe it's money? It doesn't feel like that.

I feel like something wants to come bubbeling up my throat.

Solitude

I have a problem with gifts. Not recieving them, but giving them. I don't want people to think that they owe me anything. I don't want people to feel like they have to give me something back or that I have some sort of motif with my actions (other than the obvious ones, that I want to give things to people I like because I like them). And there's a deeper, darker problem. I guess it is a part of one of the big problems. I don't like to show my feelings. If I give something to someone I give them power over me. I tell them "I care about you. Here's my heart." What if they break it? What if they don't want it? It will be devastating and above all, humiliating. They will get to me. Same as everything else.

God, I just got a picture in my mind of all my problems looking like dirty old men in big overcoats coming up to me and... Well, you get the picture.

The floor is covered in my hair. I got to clean this up soon. And I got to get a grip.

Another, more practical problem is the fact that I seem to be incapable of doing several things at once. I mean, I can hardly study and work at the same day. I can't study and DO something else the same day. Every day is just about ONE thing. I got to figure out a way to master that.

I feel fucking stupid.

Deliverance

Well... Maybe not. But maybe on my way. Spent the evening with friends. Laughed. Really laughed. For the first time in quite some time. But it is hard not to laugh when you once again get to hear about the wonderful adventures of mr. Daun. Stayed totally sober, too. I think that is something I will try and keep up.

I don't like that I spend time with people because it keeps my mind away from myself. It feels dishonest.

Sometimes I wonder if I subconciously think that I have not suffered enough yet.

It is always this problem with my memory. Things slide away. Or at least, I don't remember them but they are there and shape me. I don't remember what has shaped me, and that bugs the shit out of me. How can you shape yourself if you don't know what has made you?


It's strange... Well, no it isn't. Not really. I remember so many of the nights after this started when I just wouldn't fall asleep the whole night just because I wanted to save very minute of what was left, no matter how horrible it was. Lay awake and just look at her and feel. And I felt so much. And now I see her in everything. Things that doesn't even have anything remotely to do with her. That is on the other hand strange.

Fuck.

Well, no more of this right now. I'm going to read and shit now. Keep myself occupied.

I just wish it wouldn't feel so empty.

My Princess

She is. She truely is. I miss her.

Got drunk yesterday. Hardly had to pay for any of it. Nice. Had a bit of fun, almost. Almost got her out of my mind for a while. And today I don't feel as bad as I usually do when I'm hungover. It's just the same feeling of pointlessness. Of doing things because doing them is just as meaningful as not doing them, so why not?

I feel like I have been sleeping in my clothes. I hate that feeling. Right now I want to be in bed with my cats with a book and some chocolate milk and maybe some backrubs later on. But it don't work that way. And I guess it will have to be OK. Some day. But right now I just feel hollow, old and worn out. So old, so tired.

Yeah, well... Bite the bullet.

Watches & Guns

The watch I bought reminds me of something. Of a certain act, a certain feeling. But first things first. I have the watch in my pocket. I don't use it, but I have it with me. I am however quite scared that someone will see it. Because it is silly. First of all, no one wears a watch anymore. Second, it is a pocket watch. It is not really something that you carry around with you if you want people to take you seriously.

It reminds me of when I was a kid and played with toy guns and stuff for a longer (much longer) time than my 'peers'. I sometimes would carry a toy gun in my pocket, or a toy knife or something else. Probably because it made it possible for me to imagine that I was someone else. And I was always terrified that I would be found out, because if you are over a certain age you don't play with toys. There was no way that the other kids would see me as I imagined myself. They would laugh and everything would be even worse. It feels like that with the watch. But I don't know who or what I am imagining myself to be. But I am starting to get the feeling that that imagining, that act of make believe didn't stop there and start again here. I get the feeling that it is something I have always done. Dressing up, making myself someone else, something else. It definitely feels like that is part of what I am doing now. I think that is why I am so afraid of someone seeing through me, seeing when I don't know the rules, seeing when I mess up. Because then I once again will be the kid with the toy gun (or, in fact, the kid with the My Little Pony in his desk). The mask will inevetably fall. You know what I am saying?

To think that I have been so shaped by those years. I believe that most of it happened during 3 years. It scares me, because what have the other 22 years of history in store for me?

The idea that other people could possibly understand me is still something I find hard to believe in.

I remember when I drew a heart in lipstick on her bathroom mirror. I remember her frown when she saw that. I also remember that she let it stay for a long time, but mostly I remember her frown.

I hate this society based on consumption. I don't hate it because it fills our lives with things instead of meaning or any of that hippie bullshit. I hate it because I am not a part of it. I am not a part of that or anything else. Always slightly on the outside, never fully in the know. Never part of those that makes the rules or get away with breaking them. Never part of any society or any scene, always the one to be picked last for the team when it's time to play football. And if I where to be picked earlier it would be (in my mind) an act of misguided altruism and therefore quite humiliating. And still...

How do you do to be yourself? Can you be yourself? Isn't everyone, in one way or the other, just a reflection of the rest of the world?

I don't know if I want to go out and get really drunk or if I just want to go home to my couch (which shall soon be upgraded to a bed) and read and think. I don't really want to think anymore. But I don't want to get hung over either.

Time flies...

...but I don't know if it flies fast enough. Maybe it is too fast? Maybe it is too slow?

I'm so tired. I have so little energy. I hardly could be arsed to pay my bills in time. Everything is not yet settled with school. And yet I am anxious. I can't relax. I can't sit still. My life is still divided into periods of just waiting, it's just that I don't know what I'm waiting for anymore. I could bear those periods before, because I had something to look forward to. But not now. Now it's just dead and everything makes me sad and everything feels pointless. I have a black hole in my chest and it just sucks everything into it. Sometimes it even feels like a physical pain in my heart.

There was a time not long ago when crying was so relieving, even when I just cried by my self. Not now. And yet, I can't stop. I just can't stop.

I can feel it almost physically drag me. But I can't go now. It will only make me sad. Sadder.

How can it be over? I don't get it.

FUKK!

I can't even masturbate properly anymore. It is not a refuge. I just think about the wrong things, the wrong people and then nothing happens. And that makes it kind of pointless. And it doesn't ease any kind of tension and takes my mind of things like ut used to do. Kind of a bummer. Makes me even sadder.

I just feel very alone. Lonely.

At it again

I can't let it loose anymore. I can't relax enough anywhere or with anyone. I just can't let the tempest of emotions loose anymore. I feel like no one understands me enough to just be able to take all that. And those who do... Well, I don't feel like I can put anymore on their shoulders. I desperately want to. I miss it. I miss falling into someones arms and just cry and let it out without feeling like I'm imposing or like I'm going to get judged. It's so hard. So hard to say these things out loud to people that have nothing to do with this situation. To admit what you feel and why you feel it.

Today is a bad night. Tonight is going to be a bad night. I just want to cry and scream and yell and tear the hair from my head and the flesh from my bones. I hate feeling this hopeless.

I miss it. I hate it.

Turning Trix

Even though I love this blog, a post in it made me almost nauseous. This post. It ruined my mood, which was quite mellow at the moment.

But the day was OK, I guess. Went to counseling and cried. And she suggested that we should dig a bit deeper in me, and that is needed. I just don't know how, or if I dare. I feel so unconnected to everything.

It was quite hard being at Liljeholmens subway station today, and realize that I was almost boarding the wrong train. The one going to the old home.

Yeah.

I should stop thinking. Just an hour ago I felt pretty good and started to wonder why I did that and now I am here. But it is OK. I am OK. I'm just alone I guess. And sad. Sad that I destroyed so much. Sad that I even did things out of spite. Sad that I couldn't bring myself to fight the real fight. Sad that I did this to us. Sad that we did so much to each other. Sad that everything is going away.

But at least that is a well defined feeling.

But...

...it is good to be home (or whatever you wanna call it.). It just feels like I got a lot on my conscience, and every day I feel like I'm adding something new.

I feel like so much of the world is closed to me. I can go in to a store or restaurant or whatever and just feel ''I'm not wanted, I won't get it and I will never get it no matter how much I try and how much I want it.''

It's hard, viewing the world that way. Or rather, feeling that the world views you that way.

There's something very meditative about shining shoes.

It's nice with cats...

...even when they are not your own. It's just not the same.

Spent the day with my brother today. It was nice. It was just once more this strange feeling of us not having that much in common. I don't like that. Not one bit. Plus he's got the family sickness, ie not knowing how to deal with emotions. But at least he gave me a big hug and said ''take care'' when I dropped him of at the train. I almost couldn't let him go. Someone once said that I don't know what I have until I've lost it and that rings more true every day. I see it in everything. I rarely miss people. Not until it is too late. And it isn't too late to see my brother again. But in one way I feel like I've lost him. Or like I'm losing him. I wasn't there for him when he REALLY needed me. I wasn't there for S when she REALLY needed me. And I sure as fucking hell wasn't there when She needed me.

So I cheered myself up by buying a new razor (it vibrates and have like 5000 razorblades and shit) and a shoe polishing kit. So now every shoe in here glistens and hopefully my neck will stop exploding into disgusting little sores (BTW: really high up on my wishlist are products from The Art Of Shaving). Not especially sexy with scabs and ingrown hairs. Plus, I can't seem to get my neck as smooth as the rest of my face.

I kind of feel like I'm closing down. My phone has been turned off the whole day and I haven't checked my email for days. I just don't want to face the world. I just want to live one day at a time. I guess maybe the ostrich is back.

Counseling in 10 hours. Don't know what I'm going to talk about. It's all so blurry. So back and forth.

Road To Perdition

The road I was talking about. It's been the same for 200 years.

I just took a shower. And shaved. And realized it was all for nothing. Shaving, showering, new clothes etc. Pointless to look good. In fact, I don't think I look 'good' and I don't really do it to look 'good.' I do it because it feels like the only way to keep my head over the surface of the water. If you do things that happy succesful humans do, maybe it rubs of on the rest of you?

I don't know. I just got a feeling of 'too little too late' when I saw my reflection just now. And I guess it is. I feel like a fucking hack.

I don't know... Maybe I just need a hug. I've been getting some hugs since I came out here, but they don't do enough.

And I have been doing a lot of thinking. Thinking about those early years. Those years when everything was upside down and we continously fucked each other up. Thinking about how she hurt me then too (God knows I hurt her), and how much that has stayed with me. You think you get past things but you don't, you know? We've both changed so much, but somehow it fels like we still see (or saw) each other as we did then, with equal parts of fear and love. And 5-6 years down the line, shit like that tends to build up to something really ugly. In the end, I guess the love got buried by fear. Maybe. Maybe for me, anyway.

I wish I had trusted her. That I could have trusted her. But I have a hard time trusting people. And given our history I think she was even harder to open up to. Because she is the last person I want to be weak in front of.

No, I got to watch 'Gone With The Wind' now.

Country Trash

Took a walk down the road I mentioned. It's beautiful. There's snow everywhere now. Parts of this area feels really ancient. The woods, the old graves, the houses, the roadmarkers that has been there for at least 150 years. In some ways it makes me kind of sad to think that our family really doesn't have any deep roots to this place. My granddad bought it in the sixties (apparently he paid the whole thing in cash). He had a shop in Stockholm (called "Boutique Estelle') and apparently he made a lot of cash on that.

It's very nice to be out here. Feeling a bit human again. But somehow the void between me and my family is still there. Maybe not as large as before, but just the fact that it is there between me and people I love makes it so much worse. But it is OK. I guess I just feel lonely. And loneliness mkaes me think and feel. Somehow this place feels like loss, in some way. But I guess it is better than being back in Sthlm and be stuck in the same grey shit all the time.

It's nice to feel, even if it is painful. I've spent too much time to avoid feeling things, to avoid myself. But not now. I hope I can keep it up. I hope I have the know how and the guts to keep dealing with my problems when the worst is over.

It's just... You know, people say it helps to talk about things. And it does. I just don't feel comfortable talking about the same stuff several times. If I've said it I've said, you know? But it doesn't work like that.

Plus, I don't have any place safe to open up right now. That was actually a bit harder than I thought.

Yeah, well... Home tomorrow. Then counseling the day after that. And then what? Don't know. But I think I'm OK for now, anyway.

Easter Mass

The gatekeeper at Blåkulla.

I am at the old folks place. Having a pretty nice time. My cousin are here with her daughters. They are great girls. It is nice to meet them again.

And still... I feel miserable. Scared. Scruffy.

If there has come anything good out of this yet, it is that I notice things I like, things I need. Like earlier today the bus went by an exit to the old stage coach road and I realized how much I like that road. When you stand at the busstop and look down the road, it looks more like 1808 than 2008. I must take a walk there tomorrow.

There's an old pocket watch here. I made it tic again. It made me happy. It is not a particulary fancy watch. It is dentet and chipped. But it looks and feels robust. I like that.

I got no energy whatsoever. I'm really starting to feel the strain on my body. I literary feel it in my bones. I can hardly shave anymore, because my face just explodes into small sores and my skin hurts for days. Stress related I am told.

I wonder what I am going to fill this hole with next month? I have to write that essay anyhow. I'm looking forward to that, actually. It will be nice to get something to do in the days. Some kind of point.
I think I'll stay away totally from alcohol, too. Or at least try.
Maybe try and learn how to cook a bit.

Girls Night Out

There is 2 rules I must learn to live by, it seems.

1) leave your credit card at home at all times.

2) leave your phone at home when you are going to get drunk. You are not funny when you are drunk.


Uuuuuhhh.... I feel like shit and I think I made a bit of a fool of myself. But that's alright. It feels ok now, anyway. But my whole body hurts.


But Grand Magus was good, anyway. Real good. I've never liked them before, but I've never seen them live. The opening acts sucked, though. But it was a nice night. Spending time with a lot of people I know, and just for once not feeling any pressure.

I miss my Ugly. I miss waking up in my bed.

Regression

I can feel myself turning back to my old self. I can feel myself no longer being able to speak about what I feel. Not knowing how. Not knowing what I feel. My pains are not growin noticably smaller. They are just so much blurrier. I'm scared. Scared that I once more will turn into something that just shrugs it's shoulders because it don't know what else to do.

Break me down and build something new.

God dammit!

Get a fucking grip!

I miss it so fucking much I could die. I miss her so fucking much. Right now I would get down on my knees and beg for everything to be different. I would beg for any scraps from the table, I would humiliate and degrade myself in any way possible if I thought it would help.

It was never about not wanting to change. It was about not understanding what I had to change. It was about not knowing how to change. It was about not knowing that I had to change.

These last 4 months have been the longest in my life. And the shortest. That so much can be destroyed in 4 months... On the other hand, it has been slowly rotting away for a longer time than that.

I'm so jealous of him. I remember when she felt like that about me. I hope he knows what he got. I obviously didn't. Not enough, anyway.

I regret so fucking much.

Ghost Stories

It is not worst at nights. Sure, it does not feel good when I lay my head down on the pillow and my thoughts and feelings are starting to make room for themselves after a days work of keeping them at bay. But it is not worst at nights. It is worst in the mornings. When I have woken up and is getting ready for the day. It is worst then. When I once again realize that I have to get out, I have to breathe, I have to taste life, because staying inside gives me too mush time to feel, too much time to cry (when I once again realize what I have wasted). When I realize that I will once again pass through this world, this town like a ghost. I feel like a ghost. Looking at other people. Seeing other peoples lives and loves. Crying with them and for them, but always invisible. Always a ghost. Walking around, walking about and never having any real aim, any real goal. Nothing to go to, nothing to come home to. No home to come home to. And even if I had, what would be the point of going there?

So, I am a ghost. I spend more time with people I love than I have in ages and still... I feel more nonexistant than ever. No point. I am not attached to this world. I lost my anchor.

I see people, I meet people and they have fun. And I want to know what they are having fun with. And they tell me, or show me. And I don't understand. I want to understand. I want to have fun with them, I want to laugh and be friends and all that. I just don't get it. Have I travelled that far from humanity? Have I, in my foolish quests for some sort of personal development beyond the herd gone so far that I am a completely new species? And I don't want to lie or pretend and act like I understand the joke just so I can get to hang. Not anymore. I've already done that, in other crowds. I am beyond that, almost physically. And I have also been given the luxury of letting myself be myself (at least the part that I could, to myself, admit was (and is) a part of me). And going back to something else, something less... No. I don't have the energy to act, to play games. Fuck it.

So, I am a ghost. I am not bored. I am nothing. Because ghosts aren't real. So I spend my days looking at real people. I spend my day drinking coffe and smoking. I spend my days just waiting for time to pass. I spend my days regretting. I spend my days waiting for it to end. Or start.

And money... I hate it.

Left out

I'm feeling like I'm missing something all the time. Like I'm watching the world through different medias and the people are all talking to each other and yelling and I'm just wondering "what is going on? What am I missing?" It seems important to them, but yesterday I got the notion that the world is of bad quality, so I don't know... I don't know if people are lying to themselves and find joy in small, meaningless things just so they won't end up like me, or if I am the one who is fooled.

I'm starting to think it is option number 2.

Or maybe I just don't see them properly.

I just don't get it.

God, I want to be a beautiful soul. A beautiful person. I want to drop all this macho bullshit, all these expectations from everywhere, all this hate and anger and feeling of being less worth and just be a Good Human Being.

And I wish I could just get rid of this constant feeling of being found out, of being exposed. Of missing some detail that will show the world just exactely who I am. Who I think I am.

No, time to get dressed. The day is about to start. Unfortunately.


Oh, and I need tips. I like these shoes, or maybe rather the idea of these shoes. But does anyone have any options, alternatives or the like? Do? Don't? Opinions? There's something with them that doesn't really fit with me...

R.E.V.O.L.U.T.I.O.N.

I hate the class system. I HATE IT. I. HATE. IT. I hate it so much that it hurts and makes me cry sometimes. I hate it so much that at times I fantasize about parts of this town being engulfed in flames and every fucking traitor and suck up suffering a faith worse than those they suck up to. I fantasize about people being crucified and smashing peoples faces in with bottles and seeing their faces freeze in fear when they realize that "no, daddies money won't get me out of this one" and then they die and I wear their well groomed fucking faces as a bloody mask, and their oily scalps as decorations and their credit cards as medals on a spear. "TRY LOOKING DOWN ON ME WHEN MY BOOT IS ON YOUR NECK AND YOUR MOUTH IS ON THE CURB!"

I really think that at times. In my head I see their faces imploding and going out trough the back of their heads when I shoot them.

How do you tell someone that? How do you tell someone that just living in a world with other people makes you feel like that? How do you tell anyone that without looking like your losing it? How do you even admit it to yourself, that people is getting to you so much, that other people make you feel so small? So small and worthless? And that there really isn't anything I can do, because they will always spot me. Always. And they will detest me even more for trying.

And they tried to warn me of my evil ways...

I got this feeling of of being found out all the time. But I don't know what I'm going to be found out about. And it got a lot to to with practical things. Like leaving Susanna's or work or what used to be home and thinking all day about "did I do something or leave something out that people are going to be upset about?" Like, did I forget to clean or didn't lock the door or leave my dirty underwear our and am I going to get yelled at when I come back? How did I fail? And this feeling keeps eating me all the time. All the time. This feeling of having fucked up and not knowing how. And this is an old feeling. When I think about it it has been there for years. One of the reasons why I rarely liked to leave home.

All the time, that feeling. Of not being good enough. Of missing stuff because I suck. Because I am so slow at some things. Like this whole situation. It takes me so long to understand and to behave accordingly.

I feel like I'm just mimicking people, and that is why I'm so afraid. Trial and error is not really a method that is that suitable in social situations. I feel a bit autistic when it comes to that. Like I don't know how humans act, what humans do. Like I can't relate to them, so I watch them and try to be like them, but I feel like I'm failing all the time. Taking steps over lines I don't even know exists until I've crashed right through them.

I feel fucking rotten inside. Like I'm painting a house already destroyed by termites with a new coat of paint just because I want it to look good, or something. And I guess it works, in some ways. I think I look better (or at least more presentable) than I have in a long time. I don't think the world sees me as the monster I see myself as. I feel like Morran in the Mumin-sagas. But it doesn't make any difference whatsoever in real life. In so many ways I see it as a weakness. It sort of feels like kissing the worlds ass. But I don't have the energy to be at war with the world right now. I guess Mike Ness and SxDx explains it best in "I was wrong."

"When I was young, I was so full of fear
I hid behind anger, held back the tears
It was me against the world, I was sure that I'd win
But the world fought back, punished me for my sins
I felt so alone, so insecure,
I blamed you instead and made sure I was heard
And they tried to warn me of my evil ways
But I couldn't hear what they had to say"


Story of my fucking life.

How can you live in both worlds at the same time? Can you? I mean, practically. If I didn't have to worry about money, the rest of the world could fuck off. Then I would make the rules. But I don't. I'm at the fucking bottom (well, I guess I could be worse of, but still.).

I got to stop thinking and start feeling. But if I feel, they get to you. If they make you feel things, they get you. They win. I don't want to be in opposition. I suck at being in opposition. I wasn't the sort of kid that didn't want to play with the cool kids. I wanted to play with them, but I wasn't allowed because I didn't rank high enough in the social life in school. And I still feel like that. Like that is shit that matters.

I think I got a problem with memories, and I think that is why I don't remember much of my childhood. Memories are always painful. I rarely remember anything (even good things) without a painful feeling of loss. I can think about a time when I had a really good time and then I feel sad because those times are gone.

I just want to disappear. I've been thinking about slaving at some dangerous well paying shit job for a couple of years and then move somewhere in eastern europe and just be. Move to Prague and do absolutely nothing. Just reading. Writing. Thinking. Feeling. I love this town, but everything reminds me of what I fucked up, of what I lost, of what will never be again. And despite all that has happened and has been done to me, I can't help but feeling that I am the one solely responsible. Like I always do. And it's breaking me. The parade is becoming longer and longer and it's music gets louder and louder and the thing that saved me before is disappearing over the horizon.

But still. Tthis town is home. Even though it is a bit painful now, I love it. I might live somewhere else sometime in the future, but I think this is the town I'll die in. Or at least, I will die in the memories of this town.

Ruins

I'm not especially fond of Skyclad (since I hate folk metal), but I stumbled over the lyrics to "Building A Ruin" and felt they kind of fit me.


My life is a sentence that carries no pardon,
I can't put you out of my misery now,
So stunned by beauty of this madhouse garden -
I've taken my chances (then lost them somehow).

This body's a temple - a shoddy construction,
I'm digging my grave - while boring the well,
I'm paving a path to my own self destruction,
I won't be content 'til I see me in Hell.

No I won't be content 'til I see me in Hell.

I've looked back on my time - the names and the faces,
A child long ago that I nearly forgot,
And felt like someone who'd just stepped on the place
where the last stair should have been - (then found it was not).

Life's just a process of delamination,
Stripping your hopes - dissecting them gently.
I've opened my heart - and to my consternation
when I peered inside it was small, dark and empty.

My friends turn to me - wonder what I am doing,
drinking and smoking like somebody died.
I said "Leave me alone I'm just building a ruin,
The spirits are sunken - so the wreckage must rise."

I'm building a ruin - I ruin a building,
My bridges are burned out - my tunnels are filled in.

It's all a game I believe - the longer you play it the harder it gets.
The most I can hope to achieve now's my breakfast,
a priest with a blindfold and last cigarette...

A Hole In My Heart

Internet is down at ''home.'' Blogging from the phone. Don't really know what to write. I think I'm emotionally exhausted after yesterday. Yesterday was scary. Couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't. That hasn't really happened before. Not like that. Not with that feeling in me. Not with this feeling. It is lower, it is more in the background and it is almost worse.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for writing this. I'm sorry for what I've done and for what I haven't done.

But today was pretty OK. One moment of happiness and a day of being pretty OK. It's a good thing I'm not living alone right now. It's a good thing Black Hole exists. It's the closest thing to a home right now. Maybe it is because there is no history there yet. Maybe it is because she's selling so much that used to be mine that I feel comfortable there.;-)

But you are a tough drug to quit, cookie.

Nah, I got to get some reading done now.

He is ugly...

...but he is my ugly.

It's a good thing I wasn't alone tonight. It's a good thing that I'm not living alone right now. A very good thing or I don't know what would happen.

But right now I'm OK. It took a while and it took a lot of pain and tears but right this minute I feel at least OK.


It's strange that it doesn't get better. It's been going on for so long, but it doesn't feel better. In some ways it actually gets worse.

And this keeps creeping up all the time:


I found a bunch of photos and letters and mixtapes and stuff earlier today, and right then and there I just wanted to die so bad. I thought my heart was going to explode and I felt like someone had hit me in the chest with a hammer. I got them in a bag next to me now. I haven't dared to look at them again, or listen to the tapes. And I think it will take a while before I can do that.

Good thing there was cats around. Good thing I have friends around. But up to that point the day was pretty OK. Almost good and nice, strangely enough.

No, time to go to bed. I have cried enough for one night.

This one goes out to all you lovers out there...

...and to one of you in particular. You know who you are, darling.;)



Get a Voki now!




It put a smile on my face anyhow. And that is not always an easy thing to do.


Good night, friends and foes. We'll see how the night goes.

I got to step back, I got to back off. But I really don't know how. Or if I can. There's a greek myth where a person gets his punishment in Tartaros and that punishment is that he can never eat the fruits of the tree near him, or drink the water from the stream near him. I feel a bit like that at times.

And right now I feel... I don't know. Like everything is so incredibly pointless and meaningless. I almost wish that someone would come and rob the place, just so that something would happen. Just so I could feel something else. Just so I could get some time off afterwards. Get some sick days.

Day Of Shit

God, I feel bad today. I just want to stop existing right now.

I wish I was different. I wish I was someone else. I wish I could have been different, or rather I wish I had been different. I wish everything was different.

Everything feels like a mockery right now. Everything reminds me of my failure. Every street I walk down, every store I walk in to, everyone I see, every song I listen to. Everything. Everything reminds me of times passed and opportunities mispent. I see her in everything.

It's amazing that you let people mean so much to you.

And it's not my current, physical situation either. Of course I miss Sabbat and the other cats (but not as much as I thought/feared). But I don't miss home as much as I thought. Not the apartment, not the things. Not my records or my books or movies or clothes. It actually feels kind of good to have nothing but the essentials. But I still miss.


But this has to be done. A lot of the shit in my life has to change. I have to change. And I know myself well enough to know that I have to be in a situation horrible enough to actually provoce me to make the changes I need. And I know that I have to do this more or less by my self. But so often it feels like this problem takes over and overshadows my problems with self esteem and self respect and stuff. It feels, at times, like I couldn't give a fuck about what other people think because I am so miserable that I don't have the energy to care about anything. And that doesn't really feel like a durable solution.


Nope. It doesn't.

Fun?

God, I can't believe the amount of money I blew yesterday.

I'm fiddeling a little bit with a new part of the project. We'll see what will happen with that. But now I'm going to get something to eat.

Miracle Worker

These little babies actually work pretty good (the green ones). They are mild anxiety relievers and they really saved this day. Or maybe it was the fact that I got to work alone that cheered me up.

Anyways, the tip for today is ''never leave home without them.''

Morgenröte

I let my school know that I wanted another try at some things. They said "we'll start march 31." So that's nice.

Huuuuh...

Maybe something will come up in this apartment chase. Maybe not. I'm not that hopeful. But it's ok. I guess this is the part in life where I learn that "that wich does not kill me makes me stronger." It's just a bit hard at times. And right now I just want to scream in fear and anger and disappointment. Just get my emotions out.

I just... I feel so stupid.

Heh...

Feeling alright now. Just sent a bunch of e-mails to people about apartments, so I feel like I've done something constructive. But since they probably won't answer... But that is tomorrows problems, not tonights.


Peace out, friends and foes.

Prussia

Oh, and I bought new cufflinks (thanx for the tip!)! I just can't decide if they are a bit bent or if they are supposed to look like that. I don' get it. Tips and/or info, anyone?

And my shoulders feel like new. That aloe vera-ointment is a real miracle worker.

2 good things that happened to me today. I guess I should appreciate the little things, no? ;)

My new friend Malcolm Middleton talks about my life:

"Been careless with my friends
Even harder on myself
There’s a few stars in the sky I’ve killed
Pieces of my heart broken off along the way
I’ve been a long way falling down.

Pretending I’m pretending that everything’s ok
So many masks I’m wearing my own face
I can feel my toes burning from my deeds along the way
Before you get up you’ve got to go down."

Days like these...

...there is no point to anything. I just want to lie under the cover in my bed in my home and cry and have someone (special) to hold me and say that I'll work it out, that we'll work it out.
But I can't be like that, and I fear the substitute will only make it feel worse.

I feel like my life is running through my fingers like sand.

Maybe it's work, maybe it's life. Maybe it's just me.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

And today...

...I felt a whole lot more. A whole lot. Yep.

I see things I could do, should do to her and for her. If there was a point to it. If it did nothing more than humiliate myself.


Fuck.


Got new shoes today. Riding boots. I doubt I'll ever use them, because they are a wee bit to small and it took me maybe 20 minutes to press my foot into them (the arch on my right shoe is too high). But what the fuck. If I ever get my foot out of my ass and get those officers riding pants, I guess they'll work perfect. If I can get them on. Men men... Vilja. Våld. Vaselin.

I think I'm coming down with some kind of stomach illness. I'm basically pissing out of my ass.

I feel repulsive right now. Like an old rotten, moldy house that has been covered with a new layer of paint.

I just see my flaws all the time. And I don't mean my emotional or mental flaws (although I see them to), but my physical flaws. Everything is just a bit wrong. I am too skinny, my coat is too big, my feet are too big to my body, I don't have broad enough shoulders, my teeth are wrong, I am too hairy, I sweat too much, nothing fits etc etc. I can see someone that looks good in what they wear and I really think the pull it of, but I couldn't do that. I just... I have some rules that I don't seem to be able to break. That I don't dare to break.

Outskirts of Life

I feel very little right now. Empty, sort of. Unless I make myself feel. Like I do now.

I feel like I'm in between worlds and lifes and places and everything. Not "in between" like I'm moving from one to another, but as if I am in a world of my own that just barely touches other worlds. I don't know how I feel about that.

I am always surprised (and moved, and impressed) when people tell each other how much they love each other, how much they mean to them. They are placing themselves in other people's hands, putting their heads on the executioners block. I have a hard time with that, with giving people that, with giving myself that. And I recieve it with difficulty, too. Not because I don't appreciate it. Not because I don't want it. It is because I don't know how I am going to live up to that. How I am going to live up to that. That great responsibility. How can I not fail them?

So right now I don't know where I stand. In between worlds. In between lifes.
I really love this town, but at nights like these I feel like running, like hiding, like starting a new life somewhere else. Be someone else. Someone who hasn't made all my mistakes. Someone who won't repeat them. Somewhere where my darkness is unknown. I guess maybe that is what I am doing now, in a way. It's just... I don't know if I by doing that is repeating my old mistakes. If I once again is building something that isn't me.

There is a feeling, or maybe rather a fear, of being a paranthesis. Of that what she has now is more fitting, is more appropriate, is more her. And that makes me feel... I don't know. Very melancholic. It is most likely really unfair of me.

But yes. It is like grieving. It is grieving. But I guess I reap what I have sown.

Over and out for tonight. I wish you all the best.

Nirvana

Some days it would just be nice to not exist. Most days. Dreamless sleep. Cryogenics. Something.

Deer in Headlights

Today... Today a lot of shit came back. Shit about this situation that I thought I had already gone through and dealt with. But it obviously doesn't work that way.

The realization that this is never coming back, that THIS IS IT, it frightens me something fierce. I want to run, to run and never stop, to run and hide. I have a sense of panic in my body that I haven't had since that day when she returned from the south about 2.5 months ago.

This is it. 6 years to an end and now I can't even pretend, now I can't even lie to myself.

It is not leaving this place that scares me the most. It is not ever seeing it again. It is the fact that I am leaving her, for ever that scares me. That makes it hurt.

God. I feel like someone else is going to live my life now.

If this would just have ended without that complication... But then again, what difference would it have made? I'd just find something else to be angry and sad about and she wouldn't even have the comfort she has now. But then again... I don't know. Maybe I could feel like I had something, just not with me right there and then. Maybe... I don't know. No, that is a lie, I do know. I just don't know how to write it down.



It's just... It is humiliating. I can't even talk about the complication (see, I can't even write it!) without feeling the pity and condemnation of the world. The world seeing me as something week. Every time I have stood back because I want her to be happy, I feel the world judging me and I even feel my friends judging me for putting myself through this. I can't admit this to my parents. I can't let them know how the situation is right now. I couldn't stand their pity. I can't stand pity. Pity is the most humiliating feeling there is. Being pitied makes me feel even more ashamed of myself than I already is.

On the other hand: if I had stopped it, if I could have stopped them... The amount of pain that would have brought... I would feel just as bad then. Maybe even worse. Because when I can look away from my own pain, I am glad that if something makes her happy. Even if it means that I am not. I owe her that. That and so much more.



One of my main problems seems to be this: I have not been able to identify my feelings. Or rather, where my feelings come from. I have felt something bad, but I don't know what it is or why it is and it scares me so I don't dare to take a closer look. Something like that.

And I just found out that one of my closest friends ended up in the hospital the other night.

Fuck it, I got to work now.

Onwards Christian Soldier

I just don't feel at home anywhere. I mean that in the broadest sense. I rarely feel that I can go to a club or a café or anything and feel that everyone there doesn't view me as being totally out of place. I always feel that I get that "what is HE doing here"-look.

Just barely tolerated. I always hear the snickering behind my back.

And some days that's OK. I know that they do it because they just don't GET IT. And most other days I just wonder what's wrong with me. What I've done to deserve this.

I don't even think it is happening. It is probably just my imagination. But the feeling is real.

How could I let anyone know things like this when I hardly could admit them to myself? How can you admit to anyone that you loathe yourself?

Ego Te Absolvo

And I do. Every day. I just wish I didn't have the need to do it every day. That I didn't feel like there was something to forgive, because I don't know if there really is. Could it have been differently? Is acting according to who one is something that can (and needs to) be forgiven? And that goes both ways. Could I have done it differently? Could she? In retrospect I realize there are a lot of places where I could have turned it around. But I don't know if I could have seen it then. And how could I admit to someone I love how much I (obviously) hate and despise myself when I couldn't (and I don't even know if I can now) admit it to myself?

My life feels like a bunch of half assed compromises with myself. I feel like 25 years of weakness, straight through.

Today I've been listening a lot to Jedi Mind Trick's "Razorblade Salvation". I like the lyrics. Shara Worden's parts seem to mirror not only myself. And Vinnie's lyrics at times seems to be about me.

Example:

"Sometimes I feel like that I'm cancerous in others lives
Thats probably why I drink at night and sleep till 4 or 5
It's kinda hard walking through life with my distorted eyes
When I was younger I was stupid and I thought I thrived"


and the Shara Worden parts:

"I know that times were hard
I know that you've been feelin' down
If you only knew how I'm feelin'
For you
If I could take your pain
I wish that I could wash it all away
If you only knew how I'm feelin'"

and

"You've been runnin' around for so long
You've been hurting yourself too much
You keep messin' around with darkness
You're the one who's losing"


Or as Nietzsche would put it: "And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

And the abyss has gazed into my very depths without me even realizing it until now.
I have been so indredibly blind. Mostly when it comes to myself. I killed it. I destroyed. I destroyed my home. It was always home with her. Wherever we where, it was home. But I... I was (and is) messed up. The world just made me sad. Staring into the abyss frightened me so bad. I saw nothing but the abyss. How could I tell someone how I felt, how bad I felt when I didn't even have the knowledge or the guts to realize what I felt? I still don't know. Everything changes so much from day to day, from hour to hour. And the abyss is ever near. And now there is no place to take refuge. And it is just the way it is, sometimes.

But right now the Nietzsche-quote that speaks to me the most is this: "What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil."



I still can't believe this is happening. I still can't believe this is real. I mean, I know that it is. But I can't believe it, in my heart.

I think I got to see Dirty Dancing tonight.

Honour. Honour is a choice. Honour is doing things although it is either in conflict with our feeling, or completely indifferent to our feelings. That is what separates the man of honour from the ordinary human. The choice, the knowledge that we act and do certain things even though the result might not be beneficial to us, or might put us in peril, or might be something that we think is utterly boring. I can't say that I am honourable. But I try. I do try. I think it is important, because it is my firm belief that every human is, under the right corcumstances, capable of every act imaginable. And the only thing that prevent us from doing those things is honour. Like the german soldier who instead of being part of an execution squad on the eastern front dropped his rifle and chose to be a part of those executed instead. I believe that might be the most heroic act I have ever witnessed, although it was for naught. Honour. Maybe it is conscience? Maybe the two are the same?

I believe that in many ways I think in a very christian way. It is not just the results that matter. It is the intent. Why we do things is just as important as what we do. A quite christian thought.


I feel naked. I feel lost. I can't see the stars. The world is as disgusting as always, but I have no choice but to be in it now. There is no other place to be. And I'm afraid it will push me into the abyss, I'm afraid that it will wear me down. I'm afraid it will, in the end, make it impossible for me to move, to do anything. That the darkness becomes my light again. I don't know if I know the way from here. But it is only I who can walk that way.

"You keep messin' around with darkness
You're the one who's losing"

Sicks Six Sicks

I feel terrible. My throat and sinuses are really acting up now. Brilliant. I hope this gets better til tomorrow evening, because I won't have the energy to work, be sick and pack my shit this weekend.


Blä.


I feel like shit. But I'm going to meet up with E. tomorrow, for some coffe and stuff. And talking. I haven't told her everything about what's happened because... Well, history. Our fucked up history.
But I wonder if I should. It feels like the things I haven't said are a big part of why I'm messed up right now and that if I don't tell her she won't understand. And I would be dishonest.

But I don't know how to tell her. It's that fear of showing your vulnerability. Plus, the situation is... Well, it is humiliating. And every time I mention it to someone I feel humiliated. I feel a fool.

No, it's not the situation that is humiliating (anymore). It is peoples reactions to it. Or maybe what I think peoples reactions to it are going to be. I don't know.

Beautiful Dreamer

Got new shoes:


Ain't they pretty? I think I could wear these for ever. If they can stand the pressure. I think they would probably look splendid with just about everything in my wardrobe (wich mostly consists of black tight jeans and T-shirts. But hey, I'm working on it.). Just got to find a fitting coat of some sort for spring. I'm getting kind of tired of the leather-and-denim look right now (although summertime always seems to bring out the denim jacket and denim vest.).

So I'm piss broke now, but I will work that out. Yep.

Evocation Of The End

Today was strange. It was nice, but it felt strange. I felt like a visitor, like a tourist. Not like a tourist in Stockholm or anything, but like a tourist in life. Like I was watching people and the world from behind a glass wall in a zoo (although it feels more like I'm the one in a cage). And it felt like the rest of the world knew. They knew about that glass. They knew I could only watch, that I was something strange, that I wasn't really a part of their reality. I felt alien.

But it was OK anyway I guess.


It is hard to show that you are vulnerable. Very hard. I have spent over a decade and a lifetime in a culture to hide that.

Perpetuum Mobile

I have a terrible fear of rejection. It's a big part of my life, that fear. It is quite possible one of the reasons (if it isn't THE reason) why I haven't tried to do anything with my life. Being rejected. The worst feeling there is. Not good enough. And at the times when I am not rejected I feel like the kid that gets picked out last to the football team. I still can't believe that anyone would choose me for me. Choose me because they want to be with me, because I can add something unique. I can't believe it. Not emotionally. That's why I rarely call my friends or loved ones. I know I am in the way. That's why It is hard for me to get new friends. Why would they wan't me? And if I like them, why would I bother them with me?

I'm sitting in the ashes of myself just waiting. Waiting to get the strenght to stand up and walk away. Waiting for a wind to come and blow the dust and ash away, to destroy even the illusions. In one way I impatiently wait for the wind. In another I dread it so much.

Fuck. Why do I always have to do it like this? Why do I wait for things to happen? Why don't I ever make them happen myself? It is so cowardly.

I have no rudder or compass and the sky is dark so I can't see the stars. I can't navigate. I don't know where I am and I don't know where I'm going. In one way it gives me a sense of freedom but as I have written before, freedom is not always a good thing. It gives me the freedom to take my ship in the wrong direction. To fall of the edge of the world. To fail. I don't mind the hardship. I don't mind the struggle. Or, I wouldn't mind the struggle if I thought it would be worth it. No, noth worth it. If I thought there was a point to overcome shit. If I thought it would make a difference. If you picture it like this: I have crossed a desert and now I'm facing a jungle. I have to fight my way through that jungle, I have to chop my way through it. On the other end of that jungle lies another desert. And on the other end of that desert lies another jungle. And so on and so forth. Is there a oasis in one of these deserts and will I find it? Is there something beyond all these deserts and jungles? I can't feel that there is. But do I have a choice besides moving on?


And the parade keeps marching on. At times it disgusts me. At times it scares me. At times it overwhelmes me. But the funny thing is that right now it almost amuses me.