Fucking up

Maybe putting it down into words seems silly. To others it may seem like nothing. It could have happened to anyone at any time. Perhaps it was not even such a big deal. But still I ended up here. So I have this exam coming up in a couple of days, and in Sweden one has to apply one’s entrance to be authorized to do the sitting. A few hours ago I realized I had forgotten to do the application. Basically, I fucked up and am now not allowed to do it. Like most people I got frustrated over my own stupidity but it should have ended at that. Yet, for people like me it doesn’t. It is a clear reminder about how much I fail in life. My wicked mind went down this black hole thinking about everything I have done wrong. Never trying hard enough, misunderstanding simple tasks, failing to do the most basic things, “being a freak”, trusting the wrong people, messing up and stumbling on my own words and thoughts, not living up to people’s expectations, not being able to commit suicide, being born. Even happenings I believed to be good for me just turned out to be mistakes. Speaking up, believing in myself, choosing life, trying to fulfill my dreams, moving out to begin at university. The latter case is one that I now strongly consider to have been a huge mistake on my behalf. I find it an impossibility to keep up with anything, I have already fallen behind with half a course which is essential, if I do not score enough points for each term I will loose my apartment, most students in my class treat me like I am worthless, if they are assigned to work with me several will ask me to leave, I’m having anxiety and panic attacks during every class and just thinking about going makes me nauseous.

I’m not dumb, in fact I am actually rather clever. Although, being told your whole life that you are insignificant, an idiot, at a point even that you should kill yourself, it is easy to forget. It does not help living in psychosis believing that nothing is real. Some days I can hardly feel touch. I am fucked up, my entire being is fucked up. I am not the only one, though it is incredibly lonely. Especially now when I have moved to a town where people take one look at me before they throw me away like rubbish. There is nothing beautiful about me. My body covered in scars which have multiplied since I got here and my mind far to mad for anybody to ever understand. Maybe I should be alone. That way I would never be hurt by others again. Perhaps I deserve nothing better than this fucked up life. But who would ever comprehend my thoughts? Because putting them down into words is inane.

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Sonnet 2

Demons get out, vanish from my head.

You have trapped me in this body of misery and pain.

How can there possibly be anything more for you to gain?

Stop enlarge all these fears you have fed.

You are the reason for all the tears I have shed.

All of these powers that you drain.

Still keeping me locked in this chain.

Oh how you have loved causing these colours of red.

You placed this soul, this broken antiquity.

In this flesh that you keep carving your symbols.

Much like the mechanism was powered by gimbals.

Assuring that the mind is driven to iniquity.

You torture us just like we are slaves.

Until we have finished digging our graves.

A sonnet

Pain is the only love that I have known.

It is empty, bloody and rotten to the core.

Yet for some reason I keep asking for more.

As I exist in the darkness all by my own.

All the wounds that I have sown.

All gotten on this hellish moor.

The blood yet spilt upon the floor.

While I sit upon this ghoulish throne.

The jet black heart ripped from my chest.

Emptiness now in both body and mind.

Now not anything like mankind.

The appearance thrown away as a pest.

How come no one ever sees me?

I guess I have simply ceased to be.

Moving forward

What has happened? How did it turn out like this? I feel puzzled. Was this wise? Was it the right choice? There are actually a few happenings fitting in to these questions at the moment. Firstly, I began my first year at university almost 3 months ago. This was one of the biggest decisions of my life, especially since I never had any plans on doing so. I have always thought “No that’s not for me. I won’t be able to do it. I am not even smart enough to get in.” Yet somehow I got in during the first election of students. My reaction was, well, a bit different. I literally blurted out “What?! Are they seriously stupid?!”And now I am here, studying literature. But, by doing this it meant I also had to go through a major change. Moving out. Taking care of a household would not be a problem, although, moving to a big city which I had not even visited before might come to be. And that is the second happening, I am now living alone. In fact I even managed to get a small apartment all to myself. Although, despite that I no longer need to hide who I truly am anymore but am allowed to just be myself in my tiny space, there have been some complications. Since no one can see me there is also no one to stop me in my darkest moments from hurting myself. I am also rather lonely as I have not really made any good friends in my class. My eating disorder has also gotten worse but that additionally goes along with my anxiety.

Secondly, I have actually reached out for help with my eating disorder and have started in a weekly group which is suppose to help us overcome it. Furthermore, one of the doctors there has sent me to a self harm facility where I will also begin in a weekly group which is starting in a few days. The thing about that though is that I feel a bit reluctant to go there. 2 weeks ago one of their therapists wanted to see me before the group started (if I were even to get in). He told me a few things that was not quiet alright to say, especially not to someone who has a self harm behavior and has been suicidal since a very young age. “Oh but you are not depressed. You have just been through a lot.” The blood in my veins froze at the declaration. When he spoke he would at times make me feel as if everything in my life that has made me miserable was in fact my fault. That I had brought it upon myself, even at times as if I had deserved it. I could not speak. He kept on going that I in fact did not even have an eating disorder. Then that there would not be a group at there facility. BUT, they apparently wanted me to stay in their care. Still no words escaped my breath for I was puzzled, baffled and slightly insulted. I later left quietly not saying a word about it to anyone until a few days later since I felt as if I needed to gather my thoughts. This leads on to another thing.

Thirdly, whilst pondering about what had happened and my anxiety worsen, I decided to call my best friend Mia and tell her. She was shocked that I could hold such a thing inside me for so long. As we kept on talking she asked me if I wanted to start a blog with her where we would write about whatever we feel like. That was when I knew I had to drop the bomb on her. I told her about this little space of mine. In fact I felt good about it, in a way relieved. Even though this has been my safe place where I can only be me, to have someone that close to me knowing about it felt wonderful. Perhaps she might even continue reading. No matter if she does she is considering starting her own one which I would love to read if she decides to do so. However, she found A thankful note which is and always will be dedicated to her. What she said about it almost startled me as it is my true feelings for her. “You just brought tears to my eyes.” To hear those words from her means a great deal since she is someone who usually will not cry, at least not amongst others. As I said in my note I am forever thankful for her. These are one of the things that makes me miss her even more. We do no longer live in the same town, we are hours apart. Though just like before we are still close by heart.

Losing my grip

I don’t know how I got here, how I ended up in this place. Yet it feels like there is no escape. I am trapped inside this body, though it is like it isn’t mine anymore. Nothing seems real anymore. No longer am I zoning out, it’s as if I was not there to begin with. Constantly my head is spinning and I can barely remember anything that I am doing. This body I’m in is heavy enough for getting out of bed being the biggest challenge I’m put through each day. Moving in general has become a difficulty. Not anything feels like it would be reality, no sounds, no thoughts, no breaths.

For many years I have had what I like to call ‘Sudden amnesia’. Every now and then I stop what I’m doing and I can not remember anything at all. Not where I am, what year it is, who I am, not even my name. After some time it all comes back, however lately it has become more frequent and a part of me is afraid that it will last. That my memories will not come back to me. Another part of me hopes for it, wishes for a new beginning. I wouldn’t remember all the pain, the suffering. Although I would also lose my writing which is what has kept me alive all these years, and that is what I am most afraid of. I would lose what make me myself.

Writing this dose not even feel real to me. But is this even reality? What says that this is not just made up, a fantasy world created by something or someone and that this is all just imagination. My biggest wish right now is that I could fall asleep and never have to wake up. My entire being is so incredibly tired, please let me get lost in the world of dreams.

A start and a finish

The past 2 weeks have been quiet eventful, if say the least. In fact there have been several new beginnings. The first one is that I have visited the disability center where I will be working this summer. I have also been “working” there a few days where the employees mainly have been telling me how everything works and what they do. Since I can be rather shy amongst new people the first day was a bit challenging, however after that it has been better and I will properly start working in 2 weeks from now.

The thing that have ended is my education, about a week ago I graduated secondary school. For me this is a fairly big achievement, especially since I was told about 2 months ago that I might not. Yet I pulled through with alright grades and I could run out from the school building alongside my friends. Then jump around, dancing and screaming on a truck’s platform going around town, which is a tradition here in Sweden when you graduate. After a few hours I got home and had some food and was celebrated for finishing school before me and my friends hit the town to party. Together with hundreds of other graduates we went to a large hotel that has a night club where we had a few drinks and danced until the early hours of the next day. For not being a fan of partying I actually had fun, it was probably a mixture of alcohol, the atmosphere and the happiness from graduating. Anyhow, I actually had a good time. The thing I will miss about the school I went to is the psychiatrist. She has helped me to understand myself and my depression during the last 2 years and for that I will be forever grateful. I feel like I owe her so much and that is why I am actually a bit sad about leaving. However she said that if I ever have my ways around town after I have moved she would be very happy to see me, and I will be delighted to meet her again.

On to the other two beginnings. During the last 1-2 years I have been aware about the fact that I have an eating disorder. I have not been wanting to write about it since the subject is rather sensitive to me, but the thing I wanted to bring forward is that I have started getting help for it and within a near future I will begin a proper treatment and get medicin for it. The last new beginning was chocking since it happened so quickly. I was at a facility this week to talk about my eating disorder to settle which treatment would be best. Now the doctor I saw is also a psychiatrist and she was curious about my depression since at times these two things walk hand in hand. After 50 minutes of talking and filling out a form she prescribed me medicin. That same day I picked it up from a pharmacy. It has been 8 years since I fell into my depression and I have finally goten medication for it. Not only is this a huge relief but it makes me happy. The doctor also said I would get medicin for my anxiety but those will take a little longer. The downside to this though is that the pills do not properly start working until about 1-3 weeks after you start taking them and in the beginning you might also become more depressed from taking them. Which I unfortunately have felt, but since I know about it I constantly tell myself that it is the pills and not my true feelings which has helped. The important thing is that the dream of getting proper help for my depression has come true.

Rebelliousness vs freedom

Lately I have been asking myself if what I do is out of rebelliousness or fighting for freedom. I can not deny that I have rebelled against my parents since I was fairly young, but that is also rather normal. If you would ever meet me you would get the impression that I am a very calm and quiet person, yet I do have my rebellious sides. Yesterday I went to Stockholm to see the 5 Seconds Of Summer concert at the Ericsson Globe. Not only did I see one of my favorite bands perform live, for the second time, but I also had a VIP ticket meaning I had one of the best seats up front and attended the Sound Check right before the concert started. Early in the morning I jumped on the train since I live far away and the check-in for the Sound Check started at 2 p.m. As I went alone I brought a book with me so that my phone would not be dead once I got there. Fortunately, I also meet some lovely girls who kept me company. The opening band was Don Broco, I had not heard about them before but they were amazing and I am definitely fond of their music now. The Sound Check and concert were absolutely incredible and to be honest it was one of the two best nights of my life. Michael, Ashton, Luke and Calum are so funny, honest, down-to-earth and always know how to put a smile on our faces both with their words and their music. I have missed seeing them loads and also the other fans. We are not only a community, we are like a family, we take care of each other. For someone who is not I understand it might sound silly, but it is the truth. After jumping, dancing, screaming and singing a lot along with thousands of other people I took the train back home.

The thing about being rebellious about this is that my family has no idea I went there. They believe I was at a friends house. I told them the exact same thing when I went to see The 1975 earlier this year, which was also in Stockholm. Which was the other best night of my life, where I also had a place right up front. The reason for me not telling them is that my father forbid me for ever going to Stockholm for a concert after going there with a friend 2 years ago. But I did not do this, going to these concerts, to be rebellious. I did it for me, partly as a reward that I have stayed alive to this day and also as a graduation gift to myself. For once in my life I actually thought I was worth of something and deserved it and therefor I knew I had to do what was necessary to make myself happy, if so just for two nights. Happiness is a very unusual feeling for me and I find it difficult to achieve, though these two nights have had me bursting and bubbling with nothing but it. The guys in 5SOS has said before that what they want to accomplish with their concert is to give the people there, if so for only two hours, an escape from their daily life. And that is what they do, as for the 1975. They help us disconnect from the rest of the world by their music, if only just for a few hours.