December used to give me pain

I've always known that I get anxious around New Year, but I wasn't prepared for the full blown crying attack that unfolded when my fiancé asked what we should do on New Years Eve. All flashbacks from different emotional trauma from New Years Eve backlashed at me.

Or "emotional trauma". I don't know if I'm allowed to use that word. I've never been abused during New Year or so, but my friends made sure I knew they disliked me during New Year.

I was fifteen when I attended my first New Years party, and drank alcohole, and it was fun! That was a good year. But as soon as I got older the anxiety grew.

It was always such FIGHTING to get to a party, to not be totally alone. Being all alone on New Years Eve would be too strong a confirmation that I don't have any real friends. No one wanted to celebrate with me, I always had to force myself into other people's parties to cover my own fear of being lonely.

The worst was when I was 18. My "friends", the ones I had celebrated the last New Year with, announced that "they'd already planned everything and sadly I cannot join them".

Oh, fuck, that shit hurted. I was already hurt and anxious and fucking sad that year, and this was one of the biggest contribution to why I now hate my old friend from upper secondary school. They left me. Hate is a strong word, but I think that if we'd ever meet again I'd let them know they were pieces of shits.

I was saved by my best friend from secondary school. We celebrated New Year the two of us and had fun. I posted one pic onto IG, and the one friend I think had bad conscience about leaving me outside commented something of the lines like "you seem to have  fun <3"

Yeah, not thanks to you.

And the New Year when I was 19. I had started university, but was still too uncertain to ask someone for New Year. I asked the one I saw as my best friend, but she said she already had plans out on the country side. "you can come if you want, I guess no one cares", she said. I declined. I didn't want to force myself onto their party, where I'd probably end up with panic attacks.

Stab.

I joined another party, or asked if I could join. There were only four other people, and it was great. I had fun.

But there's always that sense of lonliness in your chest. The knowledge that no one wants to celebrate New Years with you, that people are with you because school forces you to. Those two New Years caused so much destruction in my mind. I'm not worthy as a friend. I'm not likable.

The last three New Years have been secured. I've not had to fight for a place to stay, but I'm yet horribly anxious.

And only one simple, friendly question about New Years Eve caused me to cry for ages.

Choke, choke, choke the hyperventilation

It's like the blog slowly turns into a place for memoars, but what is a blog for if not that? When I finally have a place with no facade, let me have it.

I remember when I was sixteen and in the first grade of upper secondary school. I was still naively happy, and I believed I had found the right path. I was all alone in a hallway, waiting for my friends who've had another lesson than I, and this other girl comes up to me and asks if everything is okay.

I laugh and say: yes, everything is okay!

We never spoke again. I was turned into air. We're not friends on any social media. I don't even remember her last name.

I truly wonder what would've happened if I said: no, I'm lonely. Help me.

But that doesn't happen. Not in Finland. We suffocate in silence, suffer in the dark without others knowing. I have the hardest time ever to tell people when I'm down, except my fiancé. But then there's the other thing. If I, everytime I feel like shit, tell him, he'd probably be bored. Again? Why don't you do anything to it?

Because I'm a fucking weak person, that's why! I suffer better alone. Without people prying and knowing. Without pity. But deep down, I want pity. I want people to ask, are you okay. Deep, deep down.

It's a constante debate. Hide it in the dark? Or admit? Both are bad. Admitting is hard, hiding is easier, but trying to choke a hyperventilation is not always easy either.

it's a lose-lose situation.

Her name was Alexandra. The girl who asked me if I was okay when I was sixteen.

And I can't remember if anyone, ever again, has asked me out of the blue if everything is okay. No one knows. Or then they don't care. Or they have put a taboo on the subject.

What's next on the creation map?

Do you know the feeling when you WANT to be creative, but there's a barrier inside you and you can't figure out what you want to do with the creativity and then it feels like you'll burst?

That's been me for the past days.

I can't see my progress, because I write on this long sequel of my novel, and it's hundreds of pages long, so of course the progress is slower but my brain doesn't understand that :)

When I during 2017 and the most of 2018 wrote shorter stuff, like novellas and plays, the progess felt faster because I wrote more in quantity.

But I decided I will during Christmas break write a new novella, to brighten up my mood. I know already what it's going to feature, as I tried to write it as a play, but it doesn't really work as a play, though I tried, so a novella it'll be.

Of course it's about angsty youth, what did you think? Angsty youth is my all time favourite to write about. If only you knew how many different ways there is to show angst.

The main character kills her best friend by mistake. That's the premisse. It'll be artistic, angsty and beautiful.

I just wait for a) this fucking cold to go away and b) my job to end (for Christmas) so I can finally rest. But time flies too fast.

And I'll also repaint a painting I did when I was 14. There's a picture of it here on the blog from like the beginning of this year if you wanna see it.

shhh....

Shatter me.

Right now.

ghost of the past

I remembered out of nowhere a dream I had in 2015/16.

I was led by my mum to a chair. The chair's was faced away from a wall. I sat on the chair and said out load: "I want to kill myself " (in English, which is a bit weird as I always dream in Swedish).

And after I had plead for death the wall opened and the chair dropped me inside the wall, where there was a gas chamber, a chamber with cyanide gas.

I knew I was going to die, so I took a few deep breaths and awaited death. I woke up when I died in the dream.

So, yeah, it was a solemn dream. It wasn't a nightmare at all, it was just the way it was. I was calm in the dream and I was calm when I woke up, a bit sad maybe, but calm.

I actually talked about the dream later that day when I was at theatre school. A girl, who was fifteen at that time looked at me in horror and gasped: "What kind of books do you read to make you dream like that?"

Ah, such young naivety.

I smiled at her and told her about a book I had read where one of the characters died by suicide. She'd gassed herself in the car.

The girl said I shouldn't read such books if I get nightmares from them.

If only she'd known that I've spent a good time of my life to actively think about such horrible things, if not for myself then for art. I'm suprised that she didn't make a connection, I mean, she knew what kinds of ideas I had. Maybe she was just so oblivious.

I have realized that if one person doesn't have experience with mental health issues, they have a reaaally hard time imagining that other people experience stuff as pain in a whole other way than them.

I've read at my job an analysis of a song lyric by a 17-year old. The song was about a broken family, hate and despair which the youth experienced in said family. The student wrote: "This song must be based of true events, as no one could ever come up with this messed up song themselves".

I was taken aback. How could this person think that it's impossible to imagine horror? What?? Why? I wrote in the feedback that they can't write such comments in an analysis.

But maybe it's true. You can't imagine hate if you haven't experienced it yourself.

Quotes from my tumblr

I own a tumblr page (msg me if you want the name of it) and onto it I sometimes reblog quotes that I relate to on some level, and I thought I'd share some of those quotes here. Note: I havn't written these, only reblogged them.

"my only two moods ever are tenderness and hysteria"

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"me trying to express how I feel: Idk I just feel like…idk…idk…idk man. Nvm I’m good"

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"live your life like a ghibli movie where literally everything is charming and beautiful"

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"im a simple girl.. i see book, i buy book, i let book sit on my shelf for months unread"

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"My life is just stress and good music"

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"no song will ever sound like home more than “concerning hobbits”"

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"me @ the demons that stand at the end of my bed:

it’s a lot warmer under the covers if you wanna come cuddle"

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I just love sleep so much ……. like u just close ur eyes and ur gone bitch ………… brain logged the fuck off ……… powerful

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Do you ever just go wow I have a lot of repressed anger

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how dare this outfit I planned in my head not look good on my body. disrespectful

These are quotes from 2018. I think they're nice and descriptive :)

I'm going to share a photo of myself to you

I've not really shared a picture of myself on here before, but there's one photo of me here in a post from 2015 if you wanna see how I look there. This is yours truly, the writer of this blog, me.

This is a pic I took for Snapchat, which I never posted because I look so sad here and while SC is my most honest social media (if this blog doesn't count) I don't want people to think I'm fishing for empathy or anything by posting cryptic photos.

The think I love with this photo is the fact that my face is covered by two shadows. One shadow is dark and it's covering about a third of my face, representing the part of me that's... well... dark. The part drawn to angst, death and whatever. The hidden part of me.

The other shadow is lighter, but still a shadow. That shadow represent the grim joke-part of me, and the negative traits that still work in life. Other people see this part too of me. It's lighter than the darkest part, but still darker than the averege part.

The final third of my face is covered in light. This is the part of me that is shown to society, to everyone basically. 

I just think it's so cool and interesting that this shadowy-thing occured when taking that photo!