Like ecstasy

I love writing far too much to not share a lot of pointless crap on here, angsty or not. This is, however, not angsty, yay.

I also love theatre. You may have noticed this already, hehe, but, my gOD, this drug, this drug is like ecstasy, like ecstasy, like ecstasy.

I am close now to... to work with  professionals in the theatre field. And get money from it! Me! I'm not even a professional, I'm just this random woman who let acting comsume my soul and let random characters become who I am, like ecstasy,

                                                                                                                    like ecstasy. 

And I happen to be a skilled writer. What happens when you join writing and acting? PLAYS! Plays about the things I want to see. I've been quite dominating when working in groups, and now, when working solo, ah, everything depens on me, ME!

                                                                                                                   Am I on drugs?

My ex-coworker and once my boss and teacher told me once that if I ever want to study the art of theatre, I have a chance of choosing whichever path I want. Because I'm good. I could study to become a director, an actress or playwrite, because I, apparently, am skilled enough in all of those arts. 

                                                                                                           Feel like a drug trip yet?

But what if, WHAT IF, I actually manage to become someone, a name, in the field of theatre, WITHOUT studying it. If I just become someone because I'm a natural? This is pure day dreaming of course, because I'm not so filled of selfpride that I believe I'm good enough to compare myself to a professional.

                                                                                                               This is a drug trip.

Fuuuck, I'm so so exited.

I have not taken drugs. Not ecstasy. Because this ecstasy lives in me.

It consumes me,

                                                                                                                     I am esctasy.

I need to cheer myself up from my last post so here you go

I've done this before, but I do it again :D

WHAT WAS YOUR: 
1. last beverage? Water
2. last phone call: fiancé
3. last text message: from an ex-collegue and mentor
4. last song you listened to: Heart of Courage
5. last time you cried: Can't remember. A few day ago I think

HAVE YOU EVER: 
6. dated someone twice: No
7. been cheated on: Not that I know of
8. kissed someone & regretted it: No
9. lost someone special: Not through death atleast
10. been depressed: H A H A
11. been drunk and threw up: Yeah, many times

LIST MY THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS
Black in combo with pink, red or some neon colour

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU: 

15. Made a new friend: Yes
16. Fallen out of love: No
17. Laughed until you cried: Yeah, I think so 
18. Met someone who changed you: I don't know
19. Found out who your true friends are: Ongoing battle every year, I find it out all the time
20. Found out someone was talking about you: I don't know for sure, but, sure, I believe people talk
21. Kissed anyone on your FB friend’s list: Yeah

GENERAL: 

22. How many people on your FB friends list do you know in real life: I'm not gonna check, but probably 2/3 of 'em
24. Do you have any pets? Yeeeah :D
25. Do you want to change your name: no
26. What did you do for your last birthday: I can't remember! I did have a really tiny party for family, I think
27. What time did you wake up today: 9.00
28. What were you doing at midnight last night: Slept like a baby. Have no energy to stay awak longer than 23-ish.
29. Name something you CANNOT wait for: A break!
31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life? I don't want to change anything. I don't want to delete my past, and I think I had to go through all that stuff to get here, but if I'm reeaaally sincere, then maybe... I wish I chose another school in upper secondary.
32. What are you listening to right now?: Haha, still Heart of Courage :D
33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?: Yeah
34. What’s getting on your nerves right now: Nothing. I'm totally oblivious of anything that can annoy me atm

35. Most visited webpage: Youtube

36. Blood type: 0
37. Nickname: - 
38. Relationship Status: Engaged
39. Zodiac sign: libra
40. Pronouns: her/she
41. Elementary: Was okay
42. High School: Was less okay
43. College: Uni? Gr8t!
44. Hair color: Some dirty blond Finnish hair type
45. Long or short: In between
46. Height: 154-ish cm
47. Do you have a crush on someone: My... fiancé???
48. What do you like about yourself?: I don't know. My face? And my courage
50. Tattoos: not yet.
51. Righty or lefty: righty
52. First Surgery: never been to surgery
53. First piercing: Ears
54. First best friend: In daycare, we used to sing songs together
55. First sport you joined: childrens' ballet?? or something like that when I was five
56. First vacation: Sweden
58. First pair of trainers: ?

RIGHT NOW: 

59. Eating: nothing 
60. Drinking: nothing
61. I’m about to: go to sleep. I wanna sleep
62. Listening to? Piano cover of Cheap Thrills
63. Waiting for: to get to bed!
64. Want kids?: Yeah. In like three years time probs
65. Get Married?: We have a date already.
66. Career?: Currently teacher to elder teenagers

WHICH IS BETTER: 

67. Lips or eyes: eyes
68. Hugs or kisses: kisses AND hugs
69. Shorter or taller:  taller
70. Older or Younger: +- 3 years maybe
71. Romantic or spontaneous: both
72. Nice stomach or nice arms: stomach
73. Sensitive or loud: loud
74. Hook-up or relationship: Relationship
75. Trouble maker or hesitant: Hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER: 
76. Kissed a stranger: Yes, many times
77. Drank hard liquor: Many times
78. Lost glasses/contacts: no :D
79. Sex on first date: No
80. Broken someone’s heart: Yeah, I have. One of them got really sad, the other one coped 
81. Had your own heart broken: too many times
82. Been arrested: I've had the police follow me and made me get rid of my alcohole when being underage, drinking in a park. lol. 
83. Turned someone down: yea
84. Cried when someone died: Duh, ofc
85. Fallen for a friend: Was gonne say no, but, well, I have, but we don't talk about it

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 
86. Yourself: I try to
87. Miracles: no
88. Love at first sight: interest at first sight
89. Heaven: no
90. Santa Claus: no
91. Kiss on the first date: well... no
92. Angels: no

Don't kill yourselves

Text down below by "Extrasad" on tumblr.

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

but you killed everyone else around you too. 

Sorry. I had written a long text of the time I kind of planned to kill myself (many years ago) but I got so triggered and anxious that I had to delete it. I still can't face it.

Just read that text I copied. Please.

Now I go and hit my hand a couple of times.

Vomiting

These past few weeks I've encountered a problem I've never had before.

I want to vomit out my food.

Or not I as in me, but as in my body.

i'm not pregrant

it's not bulimia

it's something else

I don't dislike my body and I've never had a bad relationship with food. Why do I get reflexes of puking when I eat? This doesn't happen always. But often enough for me to react to it and become annoyed by it.

I vomited my entire breakfast this morning. Everything of it. Against my will.

Why does my body want to vomit?

I googled it this morning, annoyed that my breakfast was in the toilet rather than in my belly.

"Throwing up food suggests emotional stress" (when not talking about bulimia)

Fuck. Is it that bad already? I've only been working for a month, I CAN'T HAVE EMOTIONAL STRESS ALREADY. I don't want to. Is this signs of a burn out, when your body throws up food? Please no.

I'm so... tired. I am happy. But why does my body reject food?

A hella long rant sorry not sorry

I have always so many ideas of what I want to post about, but I never write down my ideas and then stress takes over so I don't write and then I forget what I wanted to post.

Not to sound like a broken record, but I want to open a discussion about Instagram once more.

I have realised that I get somewhat triggered by these oh-so-perfect-instagram accounts. If they're famous, okay, I get why, but if you're a "normal" young adult, how come you... only post so perfect things? And those amounts of likes. Ugh.

Some of them are young women that've moved to southern Europe, or are backpacking through Europe, and party a lot in fucking Ibiza or whatnot. I don't want to call them out by posting their account names here, bc I know some of them irl, but I've seen enough of perfect tanned bodies with a sunrise tequila and a perfect sunset in the background, and bikinis featuring perfect boobs and perfect crayfish parties and people being social and don't get me started on their oh-so-perfect fashion,

while I'm tired like a zombie, feel like a monster and constantly trying to keep my fucking anxiety away from ruining everything. I see my collegues, fiancé, mum 'n' dad and the teenagers I'm working with (almost) everyday, so I get my fair share of socialization, but

I get so angry at these accounts. That THAT is the life style everyones hungering for. That people get the idea of perfection from these accounts. Ten years back the perfect life style was something featured in magazines and everyone knew they were unaccomplishable, but now, with every other girl (and man) being so unbelieveble beautiful and perfect in every way, the lines of dreaming and actively striving towards that life style are broken.

Luckily, I'm pretty strong against impulses of becoming perfect. My chances of becoming perfect were ruined years ago and I'm not bitter at all.

I've accomplished more than those ah-so-perfect girls anyway. I've got a full time job, heck, I'm getting married within the very near future, I'm having this "perfect" future so close at hand. So who the fuck cares about partying and showing the most beautiful sides of you anyway?

I try to show the real me. Love me or hate me, I never try to be perfect. Not when working, not when being a friend, not when being a lover, not when posing for a picture, never. Because I can't be perfect.

Not in control

As you probably know by now, I have always liked my outer appearence. I've never been standing in the mirror, judging my face or chin or breasts or anything like that. Never in my life. Maybe it's because I, who had been doing acting as a child, was used to having people look at me, and thus, didn't get any bad vibes from it? Or could it be the fact that no one had ever said anything negative about my face ever? I've never been called ugly. I've had people calling my make up ugly, but I've always been so defensive over my make up that I don't give a damn if people call it ugly.

If the avarege girl heard that her make up was ugly, would she change it? Would she try something else? I don't know, I think so. It sounds like that's the reasonable reaction. But to me, make up was the thing that communicated something to the outer world. It was soo important to me as a teenager. And I didn't like having my way of dressing up, or doing make up controlled by others. So yeah.

It's my personality that gives me troubles. I have a few times slipped into an alter ego state while having a lesson during work. I hate it. I hate when I'm not in control. I hate when I curse at a student without thinking twice, only to later regret what I did. Thankfully, this has only happened twice. But twice is too much.

I WANT TO BE IN CONTROL OVER MYSELF. I don't want my personality and temper to be... this wild mess. I don't want to be a mess. I don't want an alter ego lingering in the back of my mind all the time. Not anymore.

Let me describe what it feels like when my "alter ego" is taking over. The situation usually accurs when I've talked for a bit, and I have the students attention. I'm standing or walking, and gesticulates. What I'm doing starts to remind of acting. My voice gets sharper and my eyes look probably wider. I get warmer inside, my whole nervous system is activated. I might feel drunk.  And then I start talking weird stuff. I might call a student something weird. I once called a student a liar in front of everyone. Because all of a sudden, I'm not really myself. I'm this alter ego instead. This cruel person.

And moments later all is gone.


All I feel is shame. Shame, shame, shame. That I couldn't KEEP this thing back. Away. Gone.

First Monday of September

Today is the first Monday of September.

If I still were at my work I would at this very moment be on a stage playing, or watching children make plays.

During the summer I got fired from that place, my drama work. I know I didn't do anything wrong, the employer was just a little shit and couldn't handle the work a boss should have. Argh. I'm more sad for my co-worker, who also got the boot, than for myself. I would have handled a dismission even if I was the only one getting kicked out. But that they fired us both felt like a betrayal.

So I'm not on a stage playing, or watching children make plays. I'm at home.

I don't miss traveling 1 hour one way to the place. I don't miss having to loose one whole evening per week. I don't even particularly miss the children, because I didn't really understand them and how children work (even if I've worked for six years with children, I still don't understand them).

But....

I will miss the feeling of being on stage. I will miss my co-worker. I will miss the teenagers. I'll miss the teenagers so terribly. I will miss the outlet of emotions and creativity. I'll miss what I had at that place, a history, a status, a behaviour, a part of my fucking soul. When I got to know I wasn't welcomed back, I was angry. Furious. Then I felt nothing. Told myself my time had come and that 8 years is more than enough at one place.

And then, one evening, I cried. I cried over what I lost. I had lost one evening per week of total freedom. Of happiness, of creativity, of laughter and the feeling of collaboration.

But most of all I cried over not having a space for my emotions.

If there's one thing I'm happy about, it's that I confessed to my co-worker 1,5 year ago. I confessed what this all ment to me. I told her about how she indirectly had saved me from self hatred. I wrote to her how the plays, characters, games, everything had made me accept who I am. I stripped myself naked from all lies and facades. Not through a character, but as myself.

I didn't tell her this in person ofc. I wouldn't, couldn't. So I wrote a letter instead. I remember crying when I wrote the letter. Because I let the most hidden parts of myself out to another human.

She made a facebook-post from it. How she got a "touching letter". It warmed my heart.

I'm happy that she know what she did for me. What she probably did to more teenagers and young adults than for just me. And that I maybe did something for someone else.