"The children of a murderer"

Fun fact about me is that I've written a whole ass novel. 100 000+  words. If you don't know how much that is, let me tell you, it's a lot. I got it all printed out (and designed by a student) so it actually is a physical book. Did cost me like 37€ but hey, I've created a book!? An urban fantasy novel.

The novel itself was an eternity project for me, as I came up with the first version when I was just about eleven or twelve. It was finished when I was... 19? Rewritten at least three times. The only thing that still stands with the original version to the version that is now printed is one character. The murderer.

She was once the main character, but now she's turned into a main side character, as the story doesn't revolve around her (but it does on a more abstract level).

She, the murderer, was the murderer of my teenage years. Oh, how I wrote gorey scenes with limbs getting chopped off, and throats getting slit and parents crying by their childrens' graves. I could make a whole post about my obsession with blood, but that's for later.

In its current adult version (and not some cringy teenage version) most of the gorey scenes are cut. The feeling is more gloomy, the feeling of wrongness instead of slashing action. It suites it. And me.

That is my strenght. To tell stories. Through text, through acting, through drawing, it doesn't matter. I'm a storyteller.

Now and always.

A poem by teenager-me

I just went through the tematic of poems with my students and I remembered a poem I wrote when I was 14 years old. It went something along the lines of this:

Man säger att                                                               They say that
jord, eld, luft, vatten,                                                   earth, fire, air, water
finns i allt och alla                                                       exist in everything and everyone

Jag säger annat                                                            I beg to differ

Jag är fångad i jord                                                     I'm trapped by earth
som begraver mig levande                                         that buries me alive

Jag är fångad i eld                                                       I'm trapped by fire
som bränner min hud                                                  that burns my skin

Jag är fångad i luft                                                      I'm trapped by air
som fäller mig mot marken                                        that throws me to the ground

Jag är fångad i vatten                                                  I'm trapped by water
som inte tillåter mig syre                                            that refuses me oxygen

Jag är fångad                                                               I'm trapped in
i ett evigt krig                                                              an etarnal war

__________

That poem is actually pretty neat (and good! for a 14-year old to write)

Also my students did suprise me a lot by how beautifully they interpreted poems!

I made a vlog????

Something went wrong in my head and I made a vlog. Because I was lazy and didn't want to write everything down.

This is the closest to a ~*fashion*~ blogger I'll ever get. But yeah. Watch if you want to. There's the link too, if you can't watch it on here.


Omg here's a video

Does likes on social media make me happy?

Hi, and welcome to my blog where I now share my random thoughts and am overall angry with the world :) Todays topic is social media and likes. Subscribe for more content, and don't forget to share with your friends on other platforms! Hopefully you all have a really nice day! :)


No really, don't share. It was a joke. But I'd like to puke some words about social media and likes.
There was no likes on IRC-galleria, the social media we used back in 2008. Instead you'd comment on others pictures, and the comments were usually useless, in the likes of "omg nice poster on your wall" or "X-teacher is soo bad, skip english tomorrow?". IRC-galleria was quite fun, because no one had any barriers on what they posted on there. No potential employers, or future parents-in-law, nothing.

I can't really say likes were a big deal on Facebook either, not when I was a teenager. You'd comment. We all commented so much on each others posts, and it was also most likely useless things. That might have just been me and my social circle, but I got maybe one or two comments on the pictures I posted, someone saying I was cute, but it was not much. I remember how chocked I was when one of my profile pictures got 40 likes. To me that was much. So getting more likes on the following pic, and more and more was nice, but I never required it.

I was 17 when I got Instagram. I had 22 followers for a long time. Got 11 or less likes on almost everything I posted. It was a pleasent suprise when I got 20 likes on one good selfie. I knew why I got so few likes, and I accepted it. I accepted being disliked by my "friends". I mean, I have about 200 followers now (but like 70 of them are ghost followers), but I still get between 20-50 likes, so nothing has really changed (but I hope none of my friends are faking their friendship with me). I'm not angry about it, nor do I hunger for more likes nor followers. I know that I am more worthy than that. More worthy than numbers. I know I can't make anyone like me against their will, I've tried and failed so many times I don't even bother anymore.

So when I see others' accounts, people (often younger than me) getting like 200 likes on one pictures, I get so confused. WHERE DO THEY GET THESE LIKES FROM? How can someone not famous  have so many followers liking them? The concept is so strange to me, as I've grown up being the odd one and the freak. But I get why these people get hysterical over their amount of likes. Because they most likely don't know how it's to grow up being hated by both others and themselves, so they rely on others' trust. And when they feel like they've failed getting the confirmation, affirmation and "love" by others, they fail themselves, becoming anxious and may ending up deleting the picture.

I even heard that people message eachother begging for likes. I've never gotten such request ever, nor have I ever asked anyone to like my pictures. Because I know I can't force people to like me, neither in real life or on any social media.

I've been forced to rely on my own damn self and trust myself so I wouldn't end up going insane from being alone.

That's why I don't care about likes. That's why I'm acutally relieved not getting 200 likes.

Murder vs gore

Now that I've started working like full time I realize that I don't always have time to write during the week sooo weekends here we come with lots of posts.

This is a topic I've though about for at least a couple of years. It's kinda the same thing as when I cursed people for bragging about their depression, but this time it's all about people thinking they're beautiful special snowflakes because they like creepy stuff.

I remember vividly when the same girl I cursed (for using her depression as a badge of honor) said something along the lines of: "I'm probably totally sick in my head, I mean, I google like serial killers and stuff and am totally fascinatied by it, omg, I'm so original and blah blah blah".

There is no such thing as being original or cool or perky because one fucking googles serial killers. Haven't we all done that at some point? Looking up videos on youtube and investing some time researching? I mean, yes!

I got so furious when the other girls gave her looks of respect. I hid my rage of course.

She's not the only one I've heard praising herself and/or other people for being sooo special for knowing lots about murder. And it drives me mad. Murder has interested the human species for as long as forever. I mean, there's alway a murderpage in ladies' magazines. Imagine all the 50+ ladies getting all cozied up by murder. That's how it is. Liking reading about murder/kidnappings/creepy stuff is not original. It never has been.

If someone were to say: "I'm probably totally sick in my head, I just googled how to make slipknots and how to cut myself so I'd bleed to death in one evening and how to punch a spike through your tongue, and I'm totally fascinated by it", I bet my head no one would regard you as funny nor special. They'd see you as a freak and/or scary.

Gore is also one thing that's tabued.

 gore¹

ɡɔː/

noun

1. blood that has been shed, especially as a result of violence.

You are not allowed to talk about gore because "think of the ppl getting nausea when you talk about intestines being ripped out". Two or three years ago I wrote a post being sad that I cannot express myself because I'm being shut down when the other don't want to hear me talk about something gore-y. But when someone brags about googling murderers they're getting all praised like jesus :)

It's just so hypocritical. All of it.

Musikens kraft

I've written of what acting means in my life, and it's kinda unfair to music if I don't reflect over what MUSIC has done for my life.

I saw the music video for Nemo by Nightwish somewhere around 2005/6/7 for the first time. I remember it crystal clear. The eyes of the front woman in the music video changed in a couple of scenes into skulls and I remember being totally blown away by it. By the skulls in the eyes and by the music itself. I listened to Nightwish a lil bit in elementary, but for the most time to Lordi and Teräsbetoni. Metal was really pop in Finland during this time, and all of the girls in my class listened to metal. It was mainstream to listen to metal. And when Ari Koivunen won Idols,  he was soo cool and cute and a metal head :)

In seventh grade eveyone started to listen to techno, but not me. I was completely sold on metal music, and when listening to Somewhere by Within Temptation, my GOD, it was like finding home. I knew that this is what I want in my life.

So I listened only to WT and Nightwish, Evanescence, Delain and Epica during seventh grade. I found comfort from it. I found purpose from it. Music (mostly NW) about horrifying stuff like death and suicide and massacres and whatever, it truly gives you a special kind of energy.

I have said it once and I say it again, indulging in songs about hurting oneself helps you from hurting yourself. If you imbibe art about it, then you don't have to do it. Because the same energy comes from the music.

I know there are many pop and indie songs about though subjects, but they're not as effective. They don't set that energy and life force.

Now, I still listen to metal everyday, but don't reaally (atm) struggle with self harm. But it still gives me the will to live on.

Being at metal concerts is the most powerful thing ever. Everyone chanting in the rythm of the drums, shouting, throwing metal signs and horn, the energy is enough to power a whole country for one evening. That is pure power.

And with that said, metal songs are not always about terrible things. Many of them are of love and the will to live and to never give up.

And that is purely enough in my life to live on. I know people who are used to pop don't understand why I love metal so much. They think it's dirty music. But they don't know. They don't see behind the loud image, they are insensitive to the power. I pity them. I pity them for never feeling the energy and life force that drives metal heads. For not giving it a chance. For being satisfied with pop music, with simple tunes and simple themes. For not wanting more.

And lastly, music has saved me. It gave me a reason to focus energy on other matters than pain.

Sorry

I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.

Had written a long post about having a depressive episode + anxiety at the same time, and I opened up about possible eating disorder tendencies, but I couldn't have that post up for longer than a night. It hurts too much to even come to terms with this. This madness. That post is now deleted.

I don't even want to think there's something wrong. I'm probably just making everything up. It's probably just because I'm low on iron. I don't know, how much impact does low iron have on your psyche? The world around me makes it seem like... everything depends on the iron now.

I'm so lost. So so lost. My fiancé says there's something wrong with me, my mum and the doctor I talked to say otherwise. The doctor said it's just normal. My mum strictly believes it's the iron. My fiancé tells me to relax and not be so tense all the time. He encourages me to talk to a phsycologist.

But how can I when I don't even believe myself?

Fictional stories

I wrote these in like 10 minutes shortly after I wrote about My Acting Journey. These characters you read about are characters I've made up myself with the stimulation of group mates. What I here wrote is not what was shown, as this is more of an insight into specific moments I came up with. Because it's easy. It's always been easy for me to go in and out different personalities and characters. I find them in one second, and then it's like we had a shared past. I become them. It's easier to become characters you act as than characters you write about. That's why it's so easy spitting out words without thinking. Because it's a shared past. But none the less. 2013/14, 2015 and 2016.




"His hands were trembling.
   "I am not wrong, WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN?!" Why wouldn't his girlfriend listen to him? She had the map and had made her decision.
   "I'm going that way. That's were the next clue is", she said. "And I don't like how you treat me. Get a grip of yourself. Why must you ruin this game?"
   Little did she know how those words pierced his heart and soul. Amelie had not the heart nor the balls to talk back to him. Or she hadn't before. She was the only thing in the world he could completely control.
   He had seen his family crumble in front of his feet, with a mother shouting at him how he destroyed her relationship with his father.
   "Why must you ruin our family?" she had shouted. "You with your ADHD and bad attitude. I did not want a child like you, Kasimir. I'm sure your brother would've been a lot different than you."
   And Kasimir knew that he was not ment to happen. His big brother had died as an infant, without a reason or cause. Kasimir was nothing but a replacement. His mother had never liked him. Only dreamt of what his dead brother would achieve that he could never reach.
   Maybe his girlfriend never had liked him either. They've all decieved him for his whole life.
Kasimir could not stop himself. Everywhere he looked he saw his own hate reflect in the world. And when Amelie started to walk away from him, he grabbed her by the shoulder.
   "That's enough!" Amelie growled. "I don't want to be with you, Kasimir."
   "What do you mean?"
   "It's over."
   His hand flung up, hitting Amelie straight in the eye. She screamed. Kasimir watched her run away from him. Insted of following her, he walked deeper into the forest.
   After sitting down by a tree, he buried his face in his hands so no one would see him cry."


"Melinda squeezed the book close to her chest. It felt exiting and tiring being the book's guardian. From being the most normal teen ever, she'd now become the next in command on this secret mission. Find the final pages of the book. Kill the thief if needed. The highest command was the Ghost. That's what Melinda called the voice. The Ghost. She had to do as the Ghost said. Get the missing pieces. Otherwise she'd get hurt. She knew how painful the punishment for opposing the Ghost was. Like someone pouring acid on the skin.
   She lifted the kitchen knife and saw her own reflection in the blade.
   "Yeees. Use that one", said the Ghost. "Cut off the fingers of the thief."
   "Yeah", answered Melinda, and imagined chopping fingers like chopping carrots.
   "And then we have the answers", said the Ghost. "To finally unite with complete despair and misery. Suicide. That's what we're aiming for, right? You didn't know? Ah. Poor Melinda, being scared of death. That's what the mission is all about. Finding an end of this. Find the missing pages, Melinda."
   Melinda held her fingers tight, tight around the knife. Blood run down her hand and arm, down to the floor.
   "Good girl", said the Ghost, smiling."


"It had begun with silence.
   Iris was hiding in the bushes by the train rail. Waiting. It felt like being deaf. Not hearing anything, only the blood flowing in her ears. For 20 years she'd survived. Survived destruction in her own head, survived trials and jail for her crimes, multiple foster homes, survived breathing.
   Soon it'll be over.
   She waited patiantly. Feeling the sun on her skin, feeling the pain from the fresh cuts, feeling the pebble in her shoe. Feeling something else but inner sorrow.
   And then came the noise. The train approached with high speed. Why would they expect someone by the railroad, this far out in nothingness? Iris stood up, still in cover. Then one foot infront of the other.
   The sound of train whistle, screeching brakes, bones being crushed and blood splattering everywhere.
   And then it all had ended in silence."

Broken down boys

There's no lie in the fact that I love certain characters. Broken characters. Imaginary guys and gals bearing burdens and pain.

As a child I got attracted to these kind of boys, boys that showed weakness in some way when trying to be strong. Most notably Peter Pan from the 2003 movie, where he gave up and was ready to die. Like porn for my 9-year old brain. I love seeing characters bruised and almost killed. It gives me kicks.

The thing is that boys and men "are not supposed" to show weakness, so when a boy/man does it, aaah, it's soo satisfying. In real life, not so much, but on an imanginary level, heck yeah.

I've marathoned through an animated Netflix series called Voltron aaand I have fallen in love with one of the characters. Guess twice what kind of guy he is?

The closed up young adult with anger and trust issues, but secretly needs a hug and a father/mother figure in his life, but wont tell anyone bc he's scared. YEAH! Sign me up. It's been a while since I encountered a broken boy through a series, and I... LOVE IT

I dunno, maybe it's because I can relate with the not showing feelings thing. I remember when I was like eleven and cried in school, and eventually everyone found out and they wanted to protect me of some sort. It was embarrassing. And when I got into puberty, I tried to hide my tears, but sometimes it was difficult. But then nobody cared. When being comforted before, it felt like the uttermost violation on my feelings when everyone stares at you with cold eyes.

While I hated other people knowing I was broken I got kicks out of seeing myself cry. I'd stare at myself in the mirror, with tears streaming down my face. I still do that. Everytime I cry, I lock myself inside the toilet and stare at myself. Stare at the misery.

 If I'd been born as a guy, I'd probably be pretty much the same as I am now. Hiding everything, not telling anyone.

And then again people are talking about removing the stigma and stuff, but, nah. I don't think I ever can remove the stigma from myself. Like I'm voluntarily suffering. Yeah. Fuck.

Don't let it slip away

I have two posts in my queue, and will prob post at least one of them like next week, but I had to make this post now.

It's about myself.

I'm starting a new job and I'm scared that I cannot dress the same way I have done until now. Like... I don't think the teenagers will think bad of me, but I'm more scared that my collegues won't take me serioulsy bc of the way I dress.

I'm scared that I cannot be myself.

I cannot let myself slip away. I... I won't make it. My identity is so tightly tied to my outer appearence, I can't sacrifice my identity at the hands of my new boss. I can't fuel some sort of self hatred for the greater good, I'm selfish, but the pressure of being an adult is too great and a can already hear my heart stop beating and

I don't want to hate myself.

This is a crazy mess, sorry but I can't think straight