The bitterness of death

Man, I'm tired. Have no energy. NO ENERGY WHATSOEVER

January has felt long. But today the third period of school (work) ended, and from now on it's gonna get easier. Way easier. I taught four courses this period (and THAT is draining, I tell you), and now I'm gonna have only two courses.

AAAHhhh yeeeaaasshhh I'm so DONE

finished

dead

One of my students committed suicied this month. It felt... I don't know how it felt.

While I've, while growing up, thought so MUCH about suicide, not alway about committing it myself, but as the whole social aspect of it. Death, and mainly suicide, been a driving force in my creative thinking. I am a brutal and gothic person when it comes to creating a fictional young persons life, and, yes, I find "beauty" in horror and sorrow.


I know I glorify suicides in ex. my writing. I'm aware of it.

Witnessing it in real life, the sorrow of a school after one of the students has died a brutal way, was bitter.

I just don't know how to feel.

So maybe I should distance myself from feeling.

My fashion choices

I don't talk about fashion with that many people, mostly because not too many of my friends are interested in fashion at all, or the ones who are, are very pretentious with their: "OOOH I ONLY WEAR NATURAL COLOURS, I'm sooo sustainable when I own a woolen sweater, aaah Daniel Wellingtons watches are GOAALLSSS, oh, you have to be a minimalist AAAHASDFGHKJRYN"

And I get somewhat triggered by that fuss so I usually smile and say nothing, but the inside of me is usually boiling.

I just don't GET why people think they're better because their wardrobe consists of white, gray and black? How boring??? How fucking boring, indeed.

I am actually somewhat proud over how true I've been to myself for the last ten years of my life. My fashion has not changed that much from when I was 13. I still even wear some clothes from ten years back (sustainable fashion in your face). 

The only fashion thing that has changed from early teen me to twenty-something me is the fact that I wear skirts more instead of only t-shirt and leggins. I love leggins, and will protect that fashion with my life if it so demands.

Yes. I don't think I anytime soon will fade over to this minimalist crap fashion. (and by that, I don't mean having less clothing and buying less, I mean the style of the clothes)

If I have during ten years dressed pretty much the same... maybe it's not a phase anymore. 

Maybe it's just me and the one I am.

Homesick to a time period

Do you know the feeling of being homesick to a time period in your life? It's a feeling stronger than nostalgia, it's like you want to relive small snippets of that time period again.

I have during this past year felt very homesick to the time I was seventeen. I've figured out why, I think.

My life was very organized when I was seventeen. I was secure in my own life. I had control. I had school five times a week, and I went to my horse everyday. Yes, everyday, seven times per week. I didn't see any burden with it, though many people were shocked about that fact. My body and mind was so used to that, that it didn't feel difficult at all. School was easy enough.

I had my routine! I went to school, to my horse, to my theatre, to workout, to.... well, there it ended. That was my life around that time. If you wonder why "meeting" friends isn't on the list, it was very rare that I was invitet to someone (once per 6 months?) and I invited friends from my upper secondary school like four times in three years :')

But because I was independent on my own terms, and had no friends to worry about. The series Under the Dome came from TV, and I gamed Alice: Madness returns, watched Attack on Titan and fangirled it and was hella lot on Tumblr. My life was in my head. My fantasy spurred.


I loved that time period of my life. Because I was safe.

And now I miss it. Don't misinterpret me, I love my life now too, but there was something magical with "having a boring life" as a 17 year old.

My life was in my head.


(also, it took me four days to write this xd. is this was they call writers block?)

"I want to jump!"- The Story, part 4 (final part)

To end this journey of madness I have to finish it off.

It's now four years since I was a part of the board. And those times still sit with me. In a bad way.

I can't party, still. Ever since starting on the board have I've gotten anxiety from partying, where I usually go home about 23-ish (11 pm). If I leave at 01 I've reaally streched myself. Before I lived in Helsinki, partying would give enormous panic, now it only gives anxiety and to some extend a dose of depression.

I what's not that bad anymore but was a huge problem was me being constantly stressed about being in places. I could, before going to bed, not feeling like being aloud to go to sleep, because I "should be somewhere else". This was actually annoying and damaging.

I can't go into the organizations common room. I tried in October, and now, after all these years, it gives me immediate depression.

So. Do I regret?

Yes. And no.

No, because I still had some cool experiences.

Yes, because it damaged me to the core. It almost killed me. I've felt so much hate and anger because of this. And most anger has been towards myself. "I'm an idiot that can't do it". "Everything is my fault". "I hate this/ I hate myself".

I hate the stigma for quitting a board, or quitting anything, really, when it comes to voluntary student assossiations. "Because it's so FUN!!!!!" Haha, my ass. Yes, it's fun to get drunk until you black out, maybe, but, NO! Sacrifricing half your life for work you do for free IS NOT WORTH IT!

I am tempted to write me out of the whole organization, but can't because my flat is tied to it. I just don't want anything to do with it anymore. I get tired as soon as I hear or see any members of it. Not that the ones I used to hang out with are there anymore. They've all graduated already.

What's left is new, naive, happy "yellow beaks" (new students) all eager to work for free. I pity them. And feel nostalgic at the same time, because I was just the same. It just didn't work for me.




My biggest issue right now is the bitterness. Have you ever felt bitter? Awful feeling, really, worse than hate.

I'm bitter at people loving their student assossiations and organizations. How people join board after board and love it. I'm envy and jealous at the same time at them. But mostly bitter. This bitterness has caused fights between my and my fiancé, while he was still active in his student assossiation board. I hated his board, because I had hated mine. I didn't understand why I was so angry at him all the time, back then. I didn't understand why I got huge anxiety everytime he had a meeting. I didn't understand why I made us cry over this issue.

Now I know. Because I projected my own feelings of my own experience on someone elses. We have fixed the issue. But I feel awful.

I still fight with the bitterness. And I feel like an awful Disney-villain.

"If I can't have a nice student life, then no one else can."

End of the story.

"I want to jump!" - The Story, part 3

What broke my heart in February 2017 was the fact that, in relation to how hard I worked on the news paper, no one seemed to really embrace the news paper on the day of its release. Yes, a few people thanked me, but it wasn't a big deal. Well, for me, it'd been a hell for two months.

In May 2017 a bomb fell on me. The new president of the board of 2017 asked me to be the chief of the news paper AGAIN of 2018.

I said no. I think I said no three times. But she was persistant. "It will be easier now, you'll see. Now, you can start to work on it already in the summer, and it wont be as much of a rush as this time. Please, I know you'll make it!"

Because this was a friend of mine, and a really nice person. She asked me so sweetly and I gave finally in. Like giving candy to a child begging and begging.

I started to work on it in the autumn, and it felt ok for a while. Then I remembered the hell of pake breaking the news paper, the printing freak show and everything.

And then I realized that the two girls who did it in 2017 were no longer available. One had graduated already, and the other one was in Canada as an exchange student. The page breaking hell was now MY responsibility. I didn't know how to page break. I hadn't even seen the software, and didn't have it. The girls went to a journalist school, and they'd used the school's computers for the software. I hadn't access to them.

This realization caused a massive panic-anxiety attack one evening in December 2017. I KNEW that I couldn't do this. I couldn't learn a whole new software and page break a news paper with this time limit. I felt the sensation of killing myself again. I couldn't do it. I'd rather die.

I gave up. I sent a message to the president of the board, and told her that I can't do this. I even mentioned my mental health issues to her, and asked to keep quit about it. She answered that they'll OFC find another one, and that this voluntary job shouldn't make anyone stressed.

I thanked her. Maybe I was free from this burden?

Two evenings later, my best friend from the organization sent me a message. "I heard you're quitting. Why?"

I explained to him, and got this answer: "I trusted you. I was the one who vouched for you in May. I told the board that you'll be perfect again, and make a great news paper like last time. I'm truly dissappointed in you if you quit."

If you've never had a friend you trusted in tell you this, you don't know how much it hurts. How many tears it takes. Being told that you let someone down, and that you make them dissappointed, ah fuck, it hurts so much. I had cried to his face in November about this thing, he knew the situation was sensitive enough for me to make me cry while just talking about it, and then he drops this bomb?

But then he said: "If I help you, will you continue with me? If we do it together? Please, let's do it together. We can make it."

And I said yes.

He downloaded (legally) the software InDesign, and we had one (1) week when it was free, before we had to buy it for 50€. One week to page break free of costs.

We worked for seven days straight on that hell. Usually from 7 pm (19.00) to somewhere between 01 and 02 in the morning. Page breaking is not easy. In hindsight, I wish we just did the whole fucking thing on Microsoft Word instead of InDesign, without regrets that it would be ugly.

We made it. With blood, sweat and tears. And rage. Mostly rage.

And yet, my mind got a punch in the face when I once again noticed how few people actually cherished the news paper.

I worked so many hours, probably close to 40 hours in a very short time period, on that thing. I drove myself almost insane for it.

My friend didn't seem to care about the time it took to finish it. He was mostly dissatisfied of how "ugly" we made it. I was furious at him for dissing our news paper in front of the others, minding how hard we worked on it.

That was the last straw. I will never again do anything for that organization. That was February 2018. It's now January 2019. One year after. I can finally rest.

Part 4 will be a short reflection on how all this madness has shaped me.

"I want to jump!" - The Story, part 2

I started to very slowly heal after March 2016. But my mind was scarred, and I wouldn't do anything if I didn't know exactly when something ended, and that I could take a bus I had beforehand checked up.

I could leave my boyfriends house earlier than I could've because of this. I got horrible panic from not knowing when something ended. I had to decide before visiting a friend when I was going to leave, no matter how fun we have, so I could avoid those panic attacks. 

My mind felt fragile. Like it had escaped death only by a thread, and was now so, so, so tiny. Even a small thing could break it.

In November 2016, one board member asked me if I wanted to be the responsible for the organizations news paper. I said no. They pleaded and begged, and stupid me, agreed. The news paper was due in February 2017.

Hell broke loose. Again. Yes, I could write, and gather stories, but let me fucking tell you, layouting and page breaking a news paper takes time, and is hard. Two other girls did it for me, but they made sure to make me feel like an utter piece of shit. They were the most unpleasent girls I've ever worked with, and hell, did that help my depression? NO! They made it even worse. So, so much worse.

I cried hella lot again. I hated the girls, and I hated that this organization made me feel better off dead and I hated that I was too weak to say no, and I hated that it turned out this way. 

Why wasn't I allowed to be happy in this organization? 

Why was my student life turning into a death trap for me?

It was not suppose to become this way.

I'm too tired to write the rest. So just you wait for part 3. 

"I want to jump!" - The Story, part 1

The story of my madness. 

I graduated upper secondary school in 2014, and got accepted into university the same year. I was beyond happy. But also lost. So, so lost.

I had broken up with ALL of my friends from upper secondary school. The person I had been in love with rejected me. My best friend from secondary school moved to a town 500km from Helsinki, where I was studying. So I had to gain a completely new social circle.

One of the girls in my new group of friends ask me to come with her to this student organization, and I, who was desperate for new friends and potential lovers, followed her and joined this organization. At first, it was very fun. I got drunk everytime I was there, and everything is more fun when you're drunk, ey?

In November, I got a request if I would like to join the board for this organization of 2015, as a secretary. I agreed on that. To be one board member was the coolest thing in ay organization, and it could lead to an automatic rise in popularity. I had never been popular in my whole life, and I sought the opportunity. Three meetings per month doesn't seem too much?

It turned out it was too much.

I realized already in February 2015 that this was not fun. The pace was hectic, and we had to deal with a lot of things I didn't know of. I soon never said anything at the board meetings. I was silent, all the time. It started to taste sour.

I had by that time two jobs at different drama clubs in different towns, I was taking singing lessons, I had a horse I wanted to be with 7 days per week, I had found my boyfriend who lived in a third town, with whom I wanted to spend time with, and I didn't even live in Helsinki by this time. And oh, I tried to study also.

I soon realized that I don't come along too good with some of the board members. And soon enough, before the summer, every dream of new experiences and fun I've ever had, had turned into ash. I hated being a board member. But the stigma of quitting being a board member is huge. This is supposed to be the best thing you've ever done, why the fuck would you quit? Everyone else did study and work too at the same time, and I thought that I was just stupid.

But I did notice when the anxiety rose.

After the summer of 2015, my anxiety had already taken the best of me. I had to stop taking singing lessons, because there was no time. I felt guilty all the time for not taking a good care of my horse. I dreaded every meeting, and as soon as the meetings were over I ran away. It's no exaggaration. Even without saying good bye I ran away.

I stopped attending parties. I hated partying by that time, because it gave me too much anxiety.

I hated being a board member from the bottom of my heart. I didn't say anything during the meetings, and no one asked my opinion ever. As if I was air.

One boss changed as their mandate was ending and the successor took the organization waaay too seriously. It was a fucking student organization, not the government!! But he didn't seem to see the difference.

I cheated my way through school. I was too tired and sad to focus on studying. I regret cheating, because that whole year of studying was such a waste. I didn't learn anything, as I couldn't concentrate at the lessons. But I blame all this. I was too depressed to care about school at this time.

The year changed into 2016 and a new board was formed. I saw a light in the end of the tunnel. But as a secretary, I had to finish off the protocols. And it was hell. Pure hell, and I'm not exaggarating. It took me almost the whole of January to finish them off, and that was with tears every evening. I cried every day in January. I truly suffered during this time.

And when I proudly (exhaustedly) presented all 40 protocol, and one member of my board looked at me and said:

"But I haven't read them yet. Why did you finish them without me reading them. They're supposed to be finished in February."

I thought I would break down and cry that instant. Everything had to be changed. She walked around as a dictator, and I changed everything, as if I was writing for the government. I cried every day in February. I was so tired and exhausted, and I just wanted to run away from everything.

Yes.... Run away... And so that one feeling came to me. The feeling of wanting to kill oneself.

All of a sudden had I a chance to stop doing this. If I killed myself I wouldn't need to finish the protocol hell. But I didn't want to die, I just wanted to end this suffering. I figured out that I wouldn't have to die, if I tried to kill myself, but failed on purpose and I would have to be assigned to a mental institution, they'd probably find another one to finish the protocols.

I spent many hours thinking about dying. And one day, when I was working on the protocol hell, I snapped. We live on the third floor, and the window can be opened big enough for me to squeeze through. So I planned to do so. I looked down from the window, thinking that I will jump. Today. I want to die now, or injury myself to the state of hospitalization. I can't live with this burden anymore. I must fail everyone, because I can never succeed. Not with this hell.

My boyfriend was at home. He took me in his arms and hugged me the whole evening while I cried hysterically, screaming something about jumping out of the window. (I cried while writing this part, it still hurts my soul to think about how desperate and unhappy I was).

We have never spoken about that incident since.

But I made it! I got the protocol hell finished. You can't ever imagine what hell it was to be part of this board and doing those protocols. And swore I would never join another board ever again.

This was in 2016 and my suffering ended in February 2018. There's more to this unhappy tale. Tomorrow you may read the rest.

Okay, I changed my mind. This is a Part 1. There will be another part 2 out tomorrow night.

One year since the last torment

I have spoken quite a lot about being suicidal in winter -16, but I've never gone into details why or what exactly caused those horrible feelings. It's no secret everything had its beginning from me joining a student organization in 2014.

It's now been one year since I did the final straw for this organization, and I think that after this February, after the great Year Ball, I will break ties forever. After that, I will never attend anything that organization offers.

What was so horrible about that organization and why have I been part of it for four year???, you may ask.

I will tell you. But in another post. It's going to be a post where everything is throughoutly explained. Now, one year after I did the final straw, has my mind finally eased, and I can really think back, organize my memories and feelings, put things in perspective and so on. I've done massive thinking acitivity about this thing, almost as much as with my aggressive period when I was 13 and brought a knife to school.

Thinking and reflecting about the times when you've been at your lowest helps.

Because I want my explanation to be from start to finish and coherent, and therefore not in separate parts, it will take a while to write it. It's going to be a long journey of my madness and recovery. A very long post.

Stay tuned for it, if you want to read how I ended up hysterically crying about wanting to die in February 2016, tune in here in a few days.

Fantastic Fanfictions

I hate that among the common public Fanfictions have a bad reputations. Okay, yes, there are bad ones circling around grotesque sex acts and other idiotic topics, but there are so many wonderful Fanfictions out there, with such high quality.

I'll talk about two FF:s in this post. The first one is called Seven Pieces of Chalk. I read it in 2010 or 2011 the first time, and boy, was it a fantastic reading experience. The lenght of Seven Pieces of Chalk is 80 000 words, and thats as long as a fucking novel. A whole ass novel.

The story is pretty basic, a boy, Arthur, attend a new school and find out that another students has committed suicide some time earlier and this new friends are shattered with guilt. Everyone blames themselves. Arthur decides to find out what the reason for the suicide was, and it's a whole different case than one would think.

It was sooo good! I cried at the end.

This story has ment a GREAT deal for me. I've reread it many times. Just after I met my fiancé, I read it out loud for him everytime he was at my house as a good night tale. I read a 80 000 word long story for him out loud, because I wanted to give him the same thing the story gave me.

It didn't end there. I actually rewrote the whole fanfiction into a play in... 2016? After I've reread my play I realise it's not as good as it can be, and sometimes in the future, I will rewrite it into a better play. I had dreams of actually executing the play with the teenagers I worked with in 2016 but I didn't dare to actually ask and pursue my boss about this. It would've been a really heavy chunk of story to digest for some of the teenages, and the story was maybe too raw for some of them. I even made a cast list for my own enjoyment.

The second story is called Dirty Laundry. I read it this December, and it was fantastic. The premisse was also pretty basic, where this one guy, L, is bisexual and accidentally proves to his mum he'll bring home a boyfriend over Christmas. He doesn't have a boyfriend, and pays his rival K to act as his boyfriend during two weeks over Christmas.

K falls in love with him during these two weeks, but hides it.  L is also interestered in him, but doesn't recorgnize the feelings.

This fanfiction is also over 80 000 words long, with great plot twists, discussion about cultural differences and growing up as a foster child vs growing up in a loving family with many siblings. And homosexuality.

That story would be soo good as a TV-series. Skam, hit the wall, Dirty Laundry would be as good or even better if executed correctly.

I just love both of these stories so much. Both of them are awesome in their own way.

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My head has been up in clouds and down in the deep sea at the same time.

It's 2019. It feels pretty good.

The New Year was spent without anxiety!! None of it!

I've relaxed these days after New Year. Everything feels pretty okay right now.