A Fictional Death

This is my version of an assignment I gave my students last week. We read a text, with different scenarios of the same family with young children depending on how society functions. After that my students would have to choose one of the scenarios, and write a short text from either the mum, the dad or the childs point of view. The assingment wanted them to specifically use the senses when writing (i.e what the character see, hear, feel, touch etc).

I did one myself to show them an example. I chose the worst case scenario where the mum committs suicide.

I'll post first the original Swedish version and then my translation.


"Det pulserar i mina blodådror. Det gör ont. Det känns som om blodet i min kropp är någon annans, inte mitt. Jag vill inte ha det här blodet i mig. Läkarna hade sagt att medicinen ska hjälpa. Jag känner på pillrens släta yta som smeker mina fingrar. De ser ut som plast. De är lila. De smakar ingenting. Man behöver inte ens tugga dem, bara svälja. Man känner ingenting annat än en konstig lila nyans i strupen, sedan ligger de redan i magen.

Sen kommer sömnigheten. Mitt huvud värker som det aldrig gjort förut, och blodet pulserar ännu hårdare än det brukar i mina blodådror. Någon annans blod! Jag sväljer fler. Mer lila rinner ner för min strupe, ner i magen.

Mitt huvud sprängs. Och jag är så trött. Jag ska bara sova lite. Lite, lite. Jag sluter ögonen. Sedan tänker jag ingenting mer."

My bad English:

"It's pulsating in my veins. It hurts. It feels like the blood in my body is somebody else's, not mine. I don't want this blood in me. The doctors said the medicine will help. I touch the pills' sleek surface, that caresses my fingers. They look plastic. They're purple. They taste nothing.  One doesn't even have to chew them, only swallow. One doesn't feel anything but a weird purple nuance in the throat, and then they're already in the stomach.

And then the sleepiness comes. My head hurts like it never has before, and the blood pulsates even harder than usual in my veins. Somebody else's blood! I swallow more. More purple flow down my throat, down in my belly.

My head is exploading. And I'm so tired. I'll just sleep a bit. A tiny, tiny bit. I close my eyes. After that, I won't think ever again."

Thought of the Year Ball

Hi. I'm drunk as I'm writing this, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes. As if I ever proof read my texts (answer: I never proof read. That's why there's anyway so many spelling mistakes in every post. Sorry, you Canadians and other native English speakers who like to check this blog every once in a while)

Anyway, it's a couple of days after the Year Ball (or Annual ball as it's called, I've learned, bc it's, well, organized annually).

I didn't get as depressed as I thought I would be. I had been prepared for worse. Way worse. But it... felt okay??? I was not prepared for such positive feelings at all.

It's all thanks to my fiancé ofc. He was there with me, all the time. I had someone to talk to. I had someone who didn't dislike me. I had someone who LOVED me at this party. He saved me. Saved.

We attended the After Party for a short amount of time, time we didn't expect to spend. We had planned to escape soon after the dinner had ended. But we stayed. Ate a hotdog or two. Met some friends at another party in the same building. Didn't drink anymore. Saw old faces that brought anxiety to the front. But not many faces. Most of the ppl attending the party were younger than me. Newer people. People that doesn't show disgusted faces towards me, as they don't know me.

Then we left. Went to sleep in a hugging position.

We didn't attend the Sillis the following days. I'm thankful for that. I hate the Sillis. I hate the jargong there.

We do not like you.

Well, I don't like you either.

We made pancakes at home. Watched some anime. Loved. Went on a walk on the ice outside of Helsinki.

I love him. He is my cliff.

I'm so drunk I can't even feel my hands. It's Monday and I'm drunk. What a coincidence.

10 years challenge, Art edition

Some of you may or may not remember the picture above, the pink one, from a post early 2018. There I showed you that painting and briefly told the story behind it. "Story". It didn't have any deeper meaning than me having the creative urge to create something dark. What I was more facinated by was the fact that I got the highest score for that painting.

The pink painting is from september 2009. I was 14 years old. 

It's now 2019. I will turn 24 later this year.

I painted earlier this week the green painting, which is a repaint of the pink one. Ten years of improvement. With that said, I'm no active painter. I don't draw or paint that much anymore, maybe once a month, so I'm reaaallly pleased with the result!

There's also ten years of change. If we compare the expressions of the two girls, the pink one seem more panicky-scared-horrifyed-sad, while the green one seem just angry and sad. There's no panic in her eyes, but there's maybe vengeance. Whereas this girl, ten years ago, felt fear she does now feel power and hatred.

Lol. I overthink wayy too much, but that's okay. It's fun to overthink, to lose myself into my headspace.

Prepared for depression

I had a visit from my old friend anxiety. I have not missed her. I have not missed being tense for hours, being frightned of nothing, feeling guilty, fearing panic attacks (which I've dodged), I have not missed being silent.

I don't know how I feel towards the weekend. It's the Year Ball, at the organization that almost drove me to insanity and death  and I, for the last time, will attend it. This will be the last time I associate with the assosiation, and the Year Ball will thus mark a farewell.

I'm prepared for depression, as it seems like the way my mind reacts to that place. I don't think I'll be anxious, just really, really sad and empty. I won't attend the After Party, no, not at all. Because THAT will increase the depression, I know it.

The Sillis the following day, a kind of day-after-party, where everyone drink in the morning and being all loud, is something I won't attend either. One might ask, why? The Sillis is usually the best part of the Year Ball.

Because I don't want to succumb to depression. I will only attend the Year Ball, no Pre-Party, no After Party, no Sillis. The two times I've been to the Year Ball, the After Party and Sillis has punched me in the guts.

We do not like you.

Never again.

I wish I could give farewell to this organization some other way. But I have to do this. I have to give it a real goodbye, and then sever the ties. I have to forgive the organization for the pain I felt, for the way my mind handled their businesses. I, mostly, need to accept my mental state, and realize I can't stay in that place without feeling more depressed than ever.

I wish I hadn't become suicidal bc of this organization. 

I wish I could've been normal. 

I hope I can forgive them. And myself.

Makeup, part 2

I could babble for an eternity about theatre stuff because it's currently the only thing that fits into my ADD-brain, but I promised to explore some more fashion related topics. I should put my thoughts into something else than my character and her fate (and the production) so I try to focus on this instead.

Makeup is in a sense interesting.

When I was a teenager every girl wore make up. That doesn't mean they all wore fake eyelashes and eyeliner, but most of them used foundation, concealer, all this. Most of them used lipgloss, and eye shadow in everyday use, and eyeliner too.

It was a norm, and girls would freak out to not show the tiniest impurity on their skin. All the energy girls nowadays put into their IG-pics were then focused into the make up.

I feel like all of this has dissappeard. I do not take a stand whether it's better now, or if it was better back then, but the fact remains, few girls put that much effort anymore into their everyday makeup. Heck, at the school I'm working at I feel like I am the one caring the most about my everyday makeup. None of the elder teens use liquid eyeliner! They show their impurities without remorse, and a good third of the girls don't even use makeup at all.

Ofc it's awesome girls don't have to have a perfect skin anymore, but as I myself care about darker makeup feel a little bit pityful that my particular fashion doesn't seem that popular anymore.

The huge winged eyeliner is no hit among the younger generation, neither are the "emo"-clothes. I'm not scared for the alternative fashion, there will always be young women finding home into our fashion, but it does feel a little bit weird that their teacher is one representant of an alternative fashion. Not that teachers aren't allowed to dress the way they want.

But yeah, I'd like to see more brave young folks out there. Girls and boys who willingly break the norm of "not having too much eye makeup", or dressing in a certain way. I want to see more alternative looks in my everyday life. I want to see young people try out more fashion, without being scared of other people's gazes.

I want more teenagers to find themselves the way I found myself when I was twelve, with that army beanie with skulls on it.

Theatre ramblings

Hi, it's me again.

The last post was about my character babies, and all my life, I've been the mother of these characters. Every decision in their beings have been made by me. Yes, also through other people's feedback (theatre productions for example) but they've always been mine, and no one has trespassed on my ownership.

Until now.


I will now leave my baby (or, well, babies, but my main character is the current baby) to an actor and my director.

They will take care of her.

I'm not scared.

My director knows me really well, we've worked together for soon five years. He calls me a "gothic writer", that says a lot. He knows ME for the one I am. He knows my characters really well too, so I completely give him my trust that'll he treat my babies as I imagine them in my head.

If we get the actress we want, I know that actress will make a fantastic job. I've seen her before, and I know she'd be amazing. Cross your fingers that she'll accept the job.

It's sometimes hard to accept compliment from others. But I've now heard like four times how my director, who has 42 years exprecience in the theatre field from three different countries, praise my play and calls it "terrific", maybe I just have to accept that I'm good at writing and I have great characters.

My babies.

When my life is in my head

Aaaah, this is a topic I'm NEVER gonna get tired of!

It's about characters (that I've come up with) and alter egos and whatever that for some period of time take over my life. As you may have noticed, I'm a person who lives a lot in the clouds. I daydream a lot, I have a very wild imagination, and I can produce creative stuff in the blink of an eye.

This has ofc caused me to produce characters, and these characters become my babies. My alter egos, almost.

It depens too if I'm acting as them, or just writing about them. Writing makes the "living" of the character in my head a little bit more difficult compared to characters I act as, as I embody them. But right now I have to deal with writing characters.

My first baby was created when I was eleven. For 12 years has she lived in my head. She was the first character I've done unrightful things to, she's the murderer of my head. Torturing fictional characters is one of the best things to daydream about, I'm not even kidding.

My most beloved character-child was born when I was 17, and has since really lived in my head. I've acted as her twice, and written about her twice, once as a play and once as a short novel.

But there's been more. More beloved characters, my fictional children, my imaginary twins. All tortured and put through pain by me. So I wouldn't have put myself through pain. They've saved me. I love them all, my babies.

And right now the newest baby, the main character of my script and play, is going through the same process. She's dominating my head. When I drive, I think about her, when I daydream, I daydream about her, when I shower I imagine her. She's being tortured too. And she lives an unhappy ending.

Children of pain and imagination. Characters of controversy and taboo. My children.


Maybe they'll one day seize to be. Be gone from my head. Leave me alone. But not in the near furute. Not my characters.

Makeup through the years (Part 1)

After bending forward and backward I'm finally here. It's been such a hectic week. Man.

I will open up this fashion thing a lil bit more in this post. Let's start with when I was eleven-twelve.

Puberty has started. Suddenly looking good started to matter. I saw how my classmates started to buy different clothes, different bags, they cut their hair. I wanted to look good too, but I didn't know how. I was bad at shopping, I didn't know anything about clothes.

But one day I was in a now closed shop called Seppälä (rip) and found two items. One beanie with army print and skulls on it, and a black top with white skulls. I bought them.

All of a sudden I got attention from my classmates. They started to whisper around me. "She thinks she's sooo cool with her skulls". But in that moment, when I bought the black top and the beanie, I found home.

Clothes started slowly to matter to me. But I didn't do any makeup or doing anything to my hair.

I cut my hair in seventh grade, cut a side fringe, like the Scene Queens had. I coloured my hair black and white, in a raccoon style (it looked really good tbh).

And I started doing makeup. I had ZERO knowledge about make up. I didn't understand all the foundation and concealer crap, so I skipped that. I didn't need any concealer anyways, bc my skin was perfect. I do not exaggarate at all, my skin was like a doll's. No one did their eye brows in late 2000s, so skip, but it didn't matter, my eye brows are naturally nice (to this day have I never plucked them).

I just smashed black on my eyes. A lot of black, all around the eye, mostly on my waterlines. And this got attention. I wanted attention. I wanted people to know how dark I can be.

I wore only black and grey for some months. Only black around the eyes. Fingerless gloves with skulls on.

I started later to use glittery eyeshadow in my everyday look. That was such a nice look seriously. Nice, black eyeliner and glitter around it, damn, it looked gorgeous. Too bad I broke the eye shadow 2010.

Liquid eyeliner made its debute in 2010, and has since been my go-to makeup. My eyeliner grew long wings in 2013-ish, and now winged eyeliner is my everyday makeup. I started to fill in my brows in 2013.

I bought eyeshadow again in 2015, and has since used that palette a lot. Black and brown.


This was a small insight in my makeup history, and I guess there's more fashion related posts coming up in February.

Thoughts of war

Hi there.

I've had such a variety of feelings towards this blog, and most of those feelings are embarrassing. I may get a very good idea for a post, but bc it potentially was only two days since my last post I get "scared" that you readers think I'm too eager to share lots of shit onto here, if it makes sense?? That I need to post less so I don't seem too keen for this blog.

Embarrassing indeed.

Well, whatever. I'm currently listening to a song called "Europa" by Globus, and this song was like my anthem when I was 15 or so years old.

And now disclaimer, I apologize to my German readers for what I'm writing next.

I was during that time (when I was 15 years old), very, very interested in the second world war, and primaly in the German view of the whole thing. Being the bastard, being the evil force in a war of death. Sacrificing your own country for punishing other countries, and invading them. Murdering 6 million people in cruel ways. I was intrigued by this.

How does it feel to be the person (or country) of power to deliberately choose to kill, not only the enemy, but also your own?

15-year old me glorified the second world war a lot. I saw young men dying of grenade wounds in a ditch as art. As a story of death and horror, as misery porn. In eight grade the war history of Europe is taught in school, and it became boring after the Americans joined and put an end to it.

I had to grow a lot to actually understand what the war really was. How crippling a war is for a country, even for my own country. We have had our fare share of horrror and death too.

And bomb planes and tanks all aside, if a war broke out today it would be nuclear all the way. And yesterday I watched a video of how a body dies from nuclear wounds (when not being incinerated at the spot) and let me tell you, I'd rather die in an bomb raid than dying of nuclear wounds.

But hey, listen to the song, especially if you're interested in the history of Europe