i haven’t talked to a certain someone in … 21 hours, or maybe it’s two days, well getting there. I’m done. It hurts to do «let this certain someone come to me» shit, but there’s no way out. I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT.




I’ve never been photogenic, it’s just how it is. I’m a live show, true story. I wish I was photogenic tho, it would be fun. Even though my face isn’t photogenic, my body is. I know it sounds a bit wrong and totally like a prosy or something. I mean, clothes and shit, body parts ( non sexual way). Now I’m putting on weight because of my meds and unhealthy eating habits. I have to reach my old weight. It wasn’t much, but enough for me. Weighing 42-45 kg was perfect. It made me feel good. I’m leaning toward 47-49 and it’s killing me. I can see my body change and I fucking hate it. I’m going to start working out. I have a treadmill right outside of my room. I just need to find strength and determination.


Being myself is hard, sure. Trusting people is even harder, but giving people new chances are almost impossible for me. Occasionally I’m stupid enough to do it and when I’ve given that person a new chance there is no going back. Because I’m someone who needs the person be there at all times, sometimes I handle their absence better than other times. I just wished people would listen. When I finally agree to talk about how I’m doing or my thoughts, they should fucking be there. They shouldn’t just leave me in the middle of the mess – all by myself. Who does that? You don’t leave your kid in the middle of the mall all alone so why leave me. It’s not a bad example, but it’s not a good one either. I guess I have to stop giving people second chances. They come back and make you feel safe right before they tear you down again.

I’m not supposed to mention names and so I won’t, but today someone asked me who the most important person in my life was. My answer was very simple: Marie, Pernille, Ryan, Nikki, AJ and Christopher. They are special in their own way. Four out of six of them have never hurt me. Scared me maybe, but never hurt me. One of them you (reading this) know about. The last one is an old friend, so old that I’m not even sure I know this person anymore. You can’t always be right, I know that. Though sometimes I feel like I’ve been right the whole time.

“You can’t always be pushing people away. Someday nobody’ll come back.”
― Jacqueline Woodson, The Dear One

I’m so tired that the words won’t even come to me. It’s terrible. How could I let myself get so fooled, get so lost. I knew this would happen because it always does. I get far too depended of them and suddenly I’m the one with all the shit. I’m the one hurting and those fuckers never even know. Because I’m too scared of saying: Hey, douche bag.. that was my heart you stepped on. I’m done. I’m not, but I wish I was. I’m tired of hiding myself and my true feelings. I’m tired of it all. I just want to.. Fuck, you know what I want to. This was just a meaningless post. I’m sorry.

I don’t need them to be there all the time, just a little. Enough for me to feel loved.

Who am I?

Who am I? Can someone please fill me in? I’m eighteen years old and I just want my life to go faster or end. I don’t know who I am anymore, I’m not even sure I ever knew. My friends, they don’t know the real me. My girlfriend doesn’t know the real me. No one knows. I wish I could tell my story. I should write it down, but there is so much I can’t remember, so much I chose to forget. And now I’m sitting here in my living room writing this while listening to Alexandre Desplat. At least the music fits the situation. 

Being lonely is the probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been lonely for some years now and yeah, it hurts. When you’re surrounded by people and all you can do is smile and laugh, but still feel like you’re broken, you know that feeling right? I think everyone feels like that at some point. I wish I had someone to talk to. Someone I would say everything to, but they’re all so busy. They have their own lives and problems and I understand that. They can support, but they can’t be there – not at all times.

And so I sit here with tears in my eyes longing for someone. An imaginary person who understands me and wonder about things in the same way I do. Someone who cares about poets and writers, someone who smells old books and smile. I wish that person would come forward and say: I see you, Fonz. I guess that’s what I’m trying to explain. I want someone to see me, the real me. Wishing is really confusing. I feel that I almost lose control of what’s real, ideas, thoughts and dreams. It’s like it’s getting worse by day. I fear that in the end I won’t be able to separate them. When I reach that point I’ll be screwed. 

I’m barely alive inside, like a decomposing corpse. It’s far too crazy inside my head with the voices. I wish the whole thing could be like a concert like when your favorite band is playing and everyone is singing along. Carefully with tears in their eyes saying the same words. It seems so easy, being mentally healthy or just..happy, but it’s not. Pleasing everyone and yourself, well.. it’s hard. Not only that, but you’re the one who has to live with yourself. That’s when the wish of trading lives with someone shows up. On the other hand I don’t want to. I like my life, well.. what others see. I don’t like what’s inside. They all see some darkness, but mostly sunshine. I see the darkness, all of it because I can feel it and I know what it can do. It’s hard, God, it’s hard, but again compared to what?

Compared to all the starving children; Yeah, it’s not that hard. Compared to me wanting to end it all, yeah it’s hard man. It eats your soul inside out. I remember, wait.. no I don’t. It was a daydream or a thought or something. I was sitting on a bench in front of the sea. Just sitting there by myself looking out at the waves hitting in towards me. It was sunset and the sky was going insane. There was so much color and this good ocean smell. Suddenly this blues music starts playing and I smile. Like it’s my last day on earth. I look down at myself and get a look on my body. I’m pale and also a man in a tuxedo. It makes me smile even more. That’s when I stand up and get on the bench. The beach turns in to this very blue swimming pool and I’m getting ready to dive.

That’s where it ends.  


good music makes me creative

without any words spoken, we just smiled at each other. nothing else could reach us as we stared at each other. we were special together and yet so alone. the difference was that we were now lonely together. when sunrise came we went inside, laid down on our bed and he would hold me tight. I would close my eyes and wish it wasn’t a dream. because i knew i was happy and so was he.

thousands and thousands of scars

I’m hurt, not saying it is something new. Thing between AJ and I are getting pretty heavy, again. I mean these last few months.. I’m back where I was a year or two ago. Broken, hurt and so depressed that I don’t even notice myself. I haven’t felt so lost, but still functioning before. I wish I could wash it all away. The invisible scars because those are the ones that hurt. I can feel each and every one of them ache. It’s like they want some more siblings. I thought love was difficult, but possible. I was wrong like usual. It’s impossible and wrong. All types of love.

A week ago or so I started talking to a very old friend of mine. I haven’t talked to him in ages and I have really missed him. I caught myself thinking about him a year back. Starred out the window with this lost smile. I whispered his name, that’s when it struck me, I was lost. Chris meant a lot to me. He was my savior. My everything. That’s what I remember. Nikki concluded that I suffer from trauma. Mom and dad #1 evil divorce. Mom and dad #2 divorcing now. Chris, Markus and how I feel myself. Bullying. No wonder I can’t remember shit. When I say I don’t remember I mean like, Example: I remember I saw a cat, but I don’t remember when, color, where. It’s horrible. I feel horrible when people ask me if I remember something from long back. I shut down so much. I’m scared of opening it all up again.

What is Trauma?
There are two types of trauma — physical and mental. Physical trauma includes the body’s response to serious injury and threat. Mental trauma includes frightening thoughts and painful feelings. They are the mind’s response to serious injury. Mental trauma can produce strong feelings. It can also produce extreme behavior; such as intense fear or helplessness, withdrawal or detachment, lack of concentration, irritability, sleep disturbance, aggression, hyper vigilance (intensely watching for more distressing events), or flashbacks (sense that event is reoccurring).

I feel like I’m losing myself again. Oh, dear Russian poets. I know I’m not a good writer, not when it comes to blogs. I ask for your help. Help me see myself again. Where’s my confidence and trust? Why did I let it get ruin. I’m better than this. I am me, that only should be good enough. I’m fighting. God knows I’m holding on for dear life. I can’t take it. It’s all a mess, just like this post. I.. I.. I.. – Need to stop using I all the time. Weakness, that’s my weakness – love. It’s enough now. I got out the worst part. Now it’s time to calm down.