Tortures of the damned

When I feel lonely I sit down and fantasize about what other people in the world are doing. I imagine someone dying, someone being born, someone having sex, someone getting their first kiss. That way I know I'm not completely alone and I feel a lot better.

Why can't you be the person I've been waiting for? The one I dreamed about, the one I wished for? The one to hug me good morning and kiss me goodnight. The one I can laugh with and hang out with without everything being so awkward. Why? How did we even end up here?

Actually I think you are, you just haven't realized it yet.

I knew it would come to this. In the back of my mind I knew I was gonna disappointed. This is why I should never ever look forward to anything, I always get disappointed. I don't blame you, not at all, I understand it's hard, but I wish you'd actually try for once. This is an important thing we're talking about. But yeah, I don't blame you. I blame myself for everything. You could have said "I can't, I'm watering my flowers" and I would have blamed me.

You just keep sleeping while I'm having a war with myself.

This weekend I'm going to try to be social again. "Again.." Well, I haven't really been out of the house for three weeks now. Actually, I'm not going out, someone is coming to visit me. Hopefully we'll have a good time, I'm looking forward to it a lot. It'll be nice to meet someone beside myself again.

With nothing to do your mind starts to wander. Did I make the right choice? Did I kiss the right boy and should I have stayed in school? I don't like these thoughts. I believe what done is done and even if the choices I made don't seem right at the moment, I'm pretty sure they were.

These last few weeks I've been missing something really bad, and I wanted to do something about it. In this case it was a person I was missing. A lot. This person was a big part of my life for a long time and we ended up hurting eachother bad before parting ways. I was thinking about writing him a letter but everyone I talked to said I shouldn't. What's done is done. I think I took their advice and started doing other things to get my mind off it. Too much alcohol and a couple of mixed tapes later I didn't think of it as much. I think I miss the feeling I had when I was with him more than I miss him. People said I was happy, the happiest they've seen me in a long time, but I don't think writing the letter will bring the good feelings back.

It's not good relying on another person to make yourself happy. Only you can do it.

I wish there was an on and off button for people's madness. As much as I'd like to deal with this now, I can't, and it's killing me inside. It reminds me of something else that I don't want to be reminded of and desperatly trying to get out of my head. It's not working very well.

Don't complain when I show you my way of not having to deal with things you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. This is my way and you should feel honored that you're even allowed to see it cause I don't usually let people that close. You should be thankful. And your way isn't much better. I'd rather do this than do drugs. I believe we all have our ways to numb ourselves and we should just let each other do it. To me, it's better to numb the pain away than to face some things. I'm not saying you should always run, but some things are too bad to see again. I choose this way of living my life, stop complaining. Try going through what I went through and then ask yourself "Do I wanna go through it again and again every single day?" I promise, you wouldn't.

On a bus, on a train, on a plane, always trying to escape reality. Boy, boy, boy, girl, boy, boy, I let them use me as they want, I'm at their command, just a slave, someone they have control over. Becuase I can't control myself. I quit the drugs, I quit the self mutilation, I quit the casual sex but I never quit running from myself. It's a dead race where I always end up the winner and the loser but the loss strikes me the most. I take advantage of myself and I realized there's not many things I really enjoy doing. (Dear god, make me a bird, so I can fly far far away from here)

I represent the kids who always tried to put the square pegs in the roung holes and the kids who were always scared. We can unite and maybe change the world or we'll meet for a brief second and then run away from ourselves again. Maybe we'll feel just as alone together.

(Cause the ones crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do)

I want to apologize for the lack of blog posts these last few days. A lot of things have been going on but I think I'm back on track now. I'm not "home" though so I might have limited access to the internet, but I'll be back.

I hope you're never unhappy.

Because right now everything is spinning way too fast for me to be able to concentrate on anything. I can just be happy I have good friends that don't freak out when I'm in this mood and that I'm two minutes away from resting my head on my pillow and sleeping.

I went back to bed and wrapped my arms around her to keep her warm. I put my lips against her neck and breathed in as much of her scent as I could. She was so beautiful, you have no idea. I let her fall back asleep before I got up again. I couldn't sleep, I just couldn't bring myself to spend our last hours together sleeping. I decided to watch her instead.

She was leaving in the morning, going back to the place she should call a home. I wouldn't call it that though, as it was killing her. She was a refugee at my place, running away from all the troubles, and with good reason too. Everytime she came to visit there were more scars on her arms, more bruises on her legs and more sadness in her eyes. I just wished I could have saved her before it was too late.

"I don't feel pain anymore" she said and looked straight at me. Her blue eyes were like stars that night, it felt like they could see right through me and read my mind. "What do you mean?" She closed her eyes and leaned back, like she was trying to float. "I mean.. I've felt so much pain already in my life that I'm out of pain." She paused for a second and opened her eyes. "I can't decide if it's bad or good."

Later that night she laid naked in my bed and I got up to the window and lit a cigarette. In her sleep she looked more peaceful than ever and I wished I could capture the moment with more then a photo. Her pale skin shined as bright as her eyes and she was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "Come back to bed" she said, and I did.

I have seen so many loving faces
They turn back and leave with looks of regret
The road goes and I am finding home in it
(Saosin - Finding Home)

Stop crying. Come on, seriously, stop crying. Why aren't you listening to me? What's wrong? Stop crying and tell me what's wrong? Stop being so god damn silly, it wasn't that bad! I mean, I only crushed your heart and threw it away. It wasn't that bad, now be a good girl and stop crying. I just pulled the ground out from under you, stop complaining! I know it felt like I hit you with a baseball bat right in the stomach but I couldn't help it, wasn't my fault, stop being such a cry baby.

The more bandaids I put on your skin, the more wounds I stitch together, the more blood comes out of you and I'm afraid my efforts won't ever be enough. You are the security in my life and if you decide to leave me I'm not sure I can hold myself together. My stiches are for your wounds only, not mine, cause if you leave, how can I be worth saving?

How can you say I'm destructive when I've been clean for so long? I've tried so hard and you throw that in my face? Did I mean nothing? Did my efforts mean nothing? I know I've been crazy but I tried long and hard to prove myself worthy. I've fought wars trying to prove myself, and it means nothing?

I refuse to believe you're that cold.

We are brought up in shapes and patterns. Our parents or our legal guardians decide the path we take in the beginning of our lives. They dress us, comb our hair and put us to bed at night. There aren't many animals so dependent on our guardians as humans. We are completely helpless for a very long time. It scares me what some parents do to their kids. They stuff them full with religion or political views that aren't even close to be considered nice. It really scares me, especially since most of these kids take after their parents and grow up to do the same to their kids. Then there's a couple who break free and I admire them.

We live in a world where corruption is a fashion.

The words you spoke were always true to me and they were the truth I lived by. I don't know how old I was when your words turned from truth to something I didn't trust, but I remember holding on to them longer then I should have. You had been lying for years already and I so desperatly wanted to believe otherwise. I didn't want to believe that you would let me down, I really didn't. Do you know how it feels to realize that the foundation of your whole life as you know it decieves you? Do you know what it feels like to be an outcast from your own family? I was never a part of the picture you painted, I didn't even have the right haircolor, as you so nicely pointed out. I'm sorry.

I guess this is just another morning of not wanting to open your eyes. Not wanting to leave and at the same time not wanting to stay. I'm torn between different opinions, including about a hundred of my own, wondering what I'm supposed to do. In this world of 2008 technology, why can't a machine tell me?

I should get a magic 8 ball.

My friend recently wrote that she wanted her life to be a fairytale and it reminded me of my own life and how my mother used to call me her little princess. As I grew older, she didn't say it as much and now it's been years since she last said it. Nowadays she says I've disappointed her and I guess in a way I have. Maybe, if I had been better, I would still be that princess girl in the pink dress with her hair up. I could understand her if I was still the rebellious teen who ran away from home but I'm not anymore. Now I'm just not what she wanted me to be. She denies me my dreams and shoots down my ideas like they were bad and evil when they're really just what I think is best. I don't think my opinion really matters anymore and I've grown accustomed to the fact that she won't ever accept me for who I am. Did I turn out wrong? Does she want me to change who I am to fit in to her shape of the perfect daughter? Should I?

Somewhere inside I wish I was still a princess.

We shared a love for music. Your skin was the softest I've felt. When we woke up you kissed my eyebrow.
(Ne me quitte pas.)

You were my excuse not to be home. You were my excuse for a lot of things actually. I wish that you never left. I wish that you never left and that what we had could have grown. I wish you didn't pull out the roots of that new seed just yet. I wish you would have let it grown into a flower instead of killing it. I wish I had been strong enough to ask you not to when you were still around. I think most of all I wish I didn't miss you this much when it's only been four days.

My grandmom could only be described as one of the most wonderful women I've ever met. Her laugh, her stories, the fact that she says things like "I'm too old for dating!" and everything that surrounds her just makes her perfect. She is my best friend and I can share anything with her. I admire her strenght and that she managed to raise two kids alone during the 40's while working full time. I love her sense of adapting to what's new and not being stuck in the 60's or 70's like many old people. Many of the old photos I display here are from her collection and her giving them to me is probably one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. To look through them is to be back there, with her. I am very grateful they took so many photos back then, it allows me to tell my stories, and hers, better.



Grandmom with her friends in ~1935. She's wearing a black top and white shorts.

They were waiting for something spectacular, just like me. (Theater, south of Sweden, 1917)

I used to scratch mosquito bites until they started bleeding hoping they'd stop itching but they never did. I realize I still do this in a way, but with bigger problems than mosquito bites. Everyone always told me that if I opened up and talked about my feelings and my memories things would get better but they never did. It was like cutting up a healed wound again and seeing all the repressed memories come back to me through the blood flowing out of the wound. It never got better but I kept doing it over and over again. I know more people that does this, re-live painful memories in hopes of learning something through it and getting better but I rarely see it succeed. I'd like to talk to someone who that actually worked for because I'd like to have that faith with me still. That it works. That I can get better. That the repressed memories can finally be free.

Ever since I was a little kid I've been on the search for home. The city I live in has never served me well and it has always been more of a hell than a home for me. Living here has caused me great greif and I've always been looking for something that would make me feel complete. Sadly, I haven't been able to travel much, at least not in that search. Family vacations are one thing but the search is another. It's a passion to me and I will not give up until my heart is whole.



I could leave today if someone asked me. Wherever, whenever. I just need that toothbrush and somewhere to write my thoughts. To search, I don't need material things, I'll know in my heart when it's right. No one can take this away from me.

I wonder how you can feel so lonely when there's people all around you. Am I just too afraid to trust people or am I some loveless creature that won't ever find something permanent enough to make it worth existing? When do thoughts turn into actions and when do kids turn into adults? When do we stand on our own feet? Will I ever be able to? When are we mature enough to to make our own choices, to take responsibility, to say I love you, to have kids? Will I ever? Will I ever be fully in charge of my own actions or will there always be someone else to make my decisions for me? Who? My mom? My future spouse? (Will I ever marry?) God? Who is god?

Whoever he is I bet he's either crying at our stupidity or laughing because he's a sadist.

I wonder if you ever really find yourself
I think I'm better at knowing people around me
then knowing the person beneath my skin
I can't decide if that's good or bad

My grandmoms sister will die a virgin and sometimes I envy her. She never married and lived her whole life with her parents, until they died. She travelled around the world and brought home beautiful photos. When she moved to a retirement home last year she gave the photos to me and I look at them every night wondering what the people in them are doing now, if they're even alive. She's 94 and I can only dream that my life will turn out half as exciting as hers.