I finally dared to go public: http://furrycat.devote.se

(Might write here again when toughts get too overwhelming to share)

I feel like I'm high. Everyone I meet is perfect, I suddenly have the best friends in the universe and my bed smells amazing. The grass is so green, the sky is so blue and my legs look so skinny. The cigarettes don't really burn my lungs and the beers don't give me a hangover. Everyone is pretty, everything is beautiful. I'm in love with life. The world is better than any pill I've ever taken.

 

I thought I wasn't able to feel like this anymore. I thought I fucked up so bad, that my only solution would be antidepressants for the rest of my life, and getting used to that certain sense of melancoly. Who knew all I needed was a lifeplan, 10 therapy sessions, some parental love and quitting drugs? This is almost too good to be true. I'm probably not getting into any of the schools I applied to. It would all be way too fucking easy.

 

I'm proud of you, E. For listening to your heart. For giving youself the love you deserve. For letting go.

Du är vacker. Du är stark.

Låt ingen intala dig något annat.

Du har varit väldigt ledsen en väldigt lång tid men du har försökt att hålla modet uppe.

Du har varit väldigt ledsen,

men du har aldrig varit svag.

Du har känt dig ensam, övergiven, bortkastad.

Du har varit livrädd att nånsin känna så igen, därför har du klamrat fast dig i förhållanden

som inte alltid varit bra för dig.

Förhållanden där du känt dig som en liten flicka, trygg och omhändertagen.

Du är inte längre någon liten flicka

och sådana förhållanden gör dig egentligen aldrig lycklig,

för du är äldre nu.

Och du är inte längre rädd för mörker.

 

Du är rädd för andra saker.

Du är rädd för att världen är så stor och för att du är så liten.

Du är rädd för din egen betydelselöshet,

rädd för att försvinna.

För om du aldrig nånsin blir något,

om du försvinner tillsammans med dom andra,

har du då någonsin funnits?

Kommer någon att sakna dig?

Kommer någon att veta?

 

Du har varit väldigt ledsen

och du har känt dig bortkastad.

Kanske har du också kastat bort dig själv?

Kanske har det varit lättare så,

lättare att ligga kvar i sängen under täcket,

än att möta världen som är så stor och farlig och så full av avvisanden?

 

Idag har du skrattat, idag har du pratat med kunder på jobbet utan att stamma,

idag har du varit ensam med dig själv utan att vilja fly.

Utan att ringa upp en vän eller pojkvän eller bara någon som kan ta dig bort ifrån dig själv.

Idag har du varit ensam och du har känt dig varm.

 

Du vet att du måste möta den där världen förr eller senare.

Världen som är stor och skrämmande,

men även härlig, underbar och spännande.

Vi kan göra det tillsammans,

men du måste ta hand om mig.

För jag är rösten i ditt hjärta, jag är rädslan och ångesten men också värmen och kärleken.

Jag är du.

Och du kommer att klara dig

för du är stark

och du är vacker.

 

I want to start a new blog, an official one. I miss blogging about daily bullshit that no one cares about but everyone likes reading about. The kind of stuff it doesn't make any sense to write about if I'm my only reader. Or maybe I'm just a hell of an attentionwhore? Screw the reason, I miss furrycat! But I feel like that's a chapter of my life that I've left behind. It's the young, innocent me, and towards the last posts the (still very young) not so innocent, unhappy me. I need to be reborn. I need a new blog.

 

I have absolutely nothing to do at the moment. No job, no entrance exams left, just waiting.. And I gotta say, it feels amazing to be free but still having something to wait for! Having a purpose.

 

I miss Emil. I ran into him last week and it was a strange feeling. Like I was back in 2012. I hate how time is running away and everyone except for me is getting somewhere. Maybe I just miss the person I was three years ago? So cool, funny and motivated.

 

I hate how I begin every paragraph with a pronoun. It kind of mirrors how much I constantly overanalyze my own emotions and how I still think like a teenager. Even though I know the world doesn't evolve around my existence, I can't say it doesn't feel like that most of the days.. My therapist actually told me she thinks I have great self-insight. Like, that's not my problem. I asked whether she even thinks I should see her anymore because I often feel like there's nothing to talk about. I wish she would ask me more questions but she just sits there, silent. It makes me feel like an idiot. She said it's my choise so I should decide and tell her on thursday. I feel like she would get hurt if I tell her I don't but at the same time I know that's riddiculous. Maybe I'm the one that would feel left all of the sudden? I hope that if I go back, we would start talking about my abandonment issues. I think they might actually be a chapter I don't have enough insight about.On the other hand I don't know if she's the right person to open up for more than I've already done. She's so old. So different. She seems distant.

Amazing. I feel like a completely different person than two weeks ago. I went to France with many expecations. Expectations that weren't great. Expectations to fail the psychology training in front of my dad, to disappoint my mom, to get confirmation for what I feared the most - confirmation that the drugs ruined me on more than just a psychological level. I was scared for my life and my brain and everything I hold dear, because without a functioning head there would be no more dreams, no future. I was sure that my thinking processes would be defective and broken, a shadow of the ones of the smart girl I carefully killed with hedonistic escaping and daydreams. I thought they would view me like one of those old aquaintances you hear shot heroine and is now living in a streetcorner. First shocked, then feel sorry for me. "What happened to her? I guess we don't know her anymore".

 

That didn't happen. In fact, the opposite did. I have no idea if my entrance exams went nearly well enough to actually get in, but they went pretty damn well. I studied with dad every day and I could see the pride in his eyes when I knew the answers. I could feel my heart jump over a beat from the joy of connecting pscychological dots in my head (LOL, I can't believe I just wrote that), The point is, I studied and I learned. And when I finally sat down and wrote the test today, I was holing my breath. Answering every question with shaking fingers, sure that the next one was gonna kill me. None of them did. I wrote the same entrance exam 3 years ago and I probably got two rights on the whole thing. HA! So much for being smarter when I was twenty.

 

There can be a future and there will be. It's all up to me. No evil God is holing me locked up in a cage.

It's Suicide Tuesday for the last time and our voices are drowning in the beat of holy souls and too much cigarette smoke. I see your face across the room and I can't decide whether I'm madly in love or scared for my life. You carry that certain sense of beautiful, stabbing saddness in your eyes and I feel like I should say something but everything I can think of is wildly inappropriate at its best. I burry my face in the salt tasting wine I'm pretending to enjoy and drown every feeling of you and me and the past and the present. Our paths haven't crossed in so long that I've almost forgot the way your upper lip curves when you smile and suddenly you're everywhere again. I leave the imaginary place in my mind, a kind of smokey lounge filled with a random collection of faces I've talked to since 1992. I walk down a street that reminds me of a place where I once lived and I think of nothing nothing nothing because everything is you today. I wake up from my dream because the unconscious is a dangerous place. I sit down and write a blog post in shitty english because english is your language and not mine. I skim through the letters and remember how much you hated everything I wrote, said, did, loved. That's why I'm here and you're there. That and many other reasons.

Röd

är färgen på mina väggar, ditt hjärta och hennes handleder.

Röd är liv, röd är kärlek, röd är den som sakta blöder till döds.

Jag dricker vin och reflekterar över allt som ser ut som vin.

Idag är ingenting påriktigt.

Allt är en lek, ni är fragment av min tvinande fantasi

 

Demens

Latinsk betydelse: förlusten av själ eller sinne

Utan imperfekt finns inget presens, utan nu finns inget alls.

Jag drunknar sakta i ett moln av ingenting,

tappar andan i ett vakuum av tomhet.

 

Snälla hjälp. Innan även det som inte finns försvinner.

 

I don't know what to write, I just feel like I have to do something. Can't sit still, can't study, can't focuse, definitely can't sleep even though I'm completely exhausted. What the fuck is my problem? Why can I not let myself be happy? I have a job I'm starting to like, I have GREAT friends, the nicest boyfriend and all the chances in the world to get into psychology if I just try a LITTLE. Why is it so god damn hard?

 

I don't know what's wrong with me so I'm gonna make a list of things that bother me instead. Because I'm not the problem, the world is.

 

1. Our messy appartment. Let's be honest, it looks like a shithole 80% of the time here. Why doesn't anyone clean up?! And why is the bird on the wall still not ready? Why do we even have a bird on the wall???

2. Laundry. The fact that I still haven't done it.

3. That B-I-T-C-H from last night. And like 5 other nights. Why does that kind of people even exist? And more imoportantly, WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN MY HOME? Who invited her? I kind of know I did but I have no clue why I would do such a thing.

4. My drunken drugcravings. Why is it that I completely forget who I am and what Í stand for after like... 3 beers?

5. That one "friend" of mine. I don't even know why I hate her so much. There is just something about the way she looks at me that kind of makes me wanna cut her throat. Stay calm bitch. You ain't shit.

6. My fakehair. I want it gone.

7. That everyone sucks. People are either too boring or too fucked up. Which makes making friends impossible.

8. That R always sleeps. How can anyone sleep that much?! It's fucking five in the afternoon and the guy just doesn't give a shit. I'm hungry. I wanna eat.

9. Mondays

10. Every other day of the week

So. We ended up going bananas again on monday night. Epic time with the best people. I've got a tattoo now. And we made codein out of my Panacod tabs and drank it with cocktails. Tacky as fuck, I know, but we had fuuuuuuun. I've missed fun! I love my crazy, fucked-up partners in crime.

I can't do this anymore. Something has to happen. Anything. I'm so bored I could die and so sad I could cry my eyeballs out. I hate my job because I hate people. I hate my friends. I'm starting to hate myself. My selfdestructive thoughts, my pointless speech and my empty promises. I can't stand one more second of this lie I live in. Take me the fuck away.

We met tonight in my dream, at a place from my childhood. You walked towards me up the road and I stopped you. Nothing had changed, but everything had. You told me you were happy now, that you moved on and that I should too, but I couldn't decide weather you really meant it or if it was just your ego speaking, always so scared of showing your sensitive, wonderfully vulnerable true self. Then I rememberd it's been a year already. You probably meant it. 

 

I feel like I can't move on with my life. Something is pulling me back. Hard. And I have a difficult time figuring out weather it's just lack of motivation caused by too many years off the school bench and an overall hedonistic, destructive lifestyle or if it's really my heart trying to tell me something. 

 

I would do anything to go back in time just for a day or two. To feel all those feelings I felt one year ago. Two years ago. Three years ago. Who was that girl, so curious of the world, so filled with hope and love? How did she die? Where did I go?

Hey. Hello. I seem to be able to write and think straight again. I've, once again, lost 11 days of my life to the bed. I hade tonsillectomy the 8th of March. Unpleasent experience, even though so far the pain has been toleretable. Maybe I just like pain? On day 4 or 5 I had to be hospitalized again for nausea. Couldn't handle the codein and the tramadol. How is it people get hooked on these things? So far no bleeding,, et's hope I'm lucky for once. Because if there is one thing I can't handle, it's most definitely blood.

 

I just saw the the movie the made for Fifty shades of Grey. Kind of felt like I had to, same as with the book. Well, both sucked in my opinion, so no surprises there. The sex I had in high school was rougher than that.

I had a meltdown yesterday. Cried like a baby for hours and told R about my questionmarks about our future. It was the most horrible feeling in a long while. The look of shock and dissapointment in his eyes. The hurt anger. The pain. I had a flashback before my eyes about what losing him would be like. I never wanna feel that way ever again. I love him so much. My best friend and honeybun. Maybe you don't have to be so simillar. Maybe that's what makes it interesting. And maybe we don't have to talk about politics or what might happen when we die. There are lots of other things to talk about. All I know is, I couldn't bare losing my friend and boyfriend.

 

My lip is swollen. It hurts like hell and I look like a clown. Probably how God wants it to be.