Saturday, May 27

the bad taste of recognition

I went to the psychiatric hospital, by request of the doctor. I almost got admitted, but was let go, as I promised I wouldn't do it again, you know, cut myself. I told my mum. She told my dad.

She'll call a psychologist on monday and I'll start as soon as possible.

So I'm crazy. I might be. Low self-esteem doesn't just clear up like that.

I chatted to my mum last night, and came upon a very, very scary discovery. I told her about some of the stressful things there were to being with Christian. The guilt I felt, the way I felt I owed him so much, but gave him so little. My mother's eyes were wide open and she asked me where I recognised that from. It hit me. My grandfather. My grandfather is allegedly the reason to all the bad things I have inside of me today. He is evil. It turns out that I have actually seeked comfort in the one person who reminds me of my grandfather. In Christian. This is terrifying. You see, with Christian I always feel guilty. Even if I do something good for him, I somehow feel guilty. I'm always in debt. Of course this is not something that Christian does on purpose. Christian has a very low self-esteem and is trying to get it up, by doing big things for me. By saying "sorry" all the time, by walking me home, by doing me favours, buying me gifts and by forgiving me, he feels like the bigger person and that makes him feel like he's worth more. He just doesn't see that the bigger he feels, the smaller I feel.

Him reminding me of the devil in my life has really stirred my emotions up. I'm very, very puzzled and it hurts inside. Am I really in love with this guy? Can I live with another one of my grandfather? If I let go of Christian, will I just end up with another one like him? Am I really strong enough to break this pattern? What am I to do?

Sunday, May 21

10 cuts so far

What Christian said when he was told about my cutting, was that "now it was serious" and that "I should stop".

First of all, it has NOT gotten worse from when I told him I cried every night, till I cut my wrist! Nothing in my head, my mind, my feelings has changed, absolutely nothing. My health is just as seriously endangered as it was before I cut myself. Now it's just easier to convince people. Or, possible. Now people see. Now people understand. Now people say "oh, she actually does feel bad!" just as I wanted them to believe. They all used to think they knew how I was feeling. It wasn't until I wrote it in my own blood, they really understood.

Second of all, why stop? There might be scars, but I highly doubt it, as I haven't cut very deep. I feel great, I have been ever since the first cut. I love it, I love cutting, feeling the slight pain, watching it heel and touching it. I think it's beautiful. People say "stop", but they never ever contribute with an alternative. Cutting myself is the least I can do. I have a doctors oppointment on May 30th. Stop? I bet you expect me to take happy pills instead. As if that's less dangerous.

I feel amazing. 10 cuts so far.

barbie is a lesbian

Ignore how awful I look in this picture, and focus on her lips on mine. Because, ladies and gentlemen, this was the moment captured, where I wanted to freeze time. She is a wonderful kisser. I love the game called "Pandoras box". All the contestans put about 10 notes in a box with questions and dares, and you take turns picking a note and either doing the dare, answering the question or drinking the rest of your drink. I made three notes saying "Kiss Christina.". I was lucky enough to draw the last one left. I think the kiss lasted about 4 seconds. She is so beautiful.

When I came home from that drunking night, I called Christian and told him about the cuts in my arm. He completely overreacted, saying how ill I was and that I needed help. He was yelling and sounded so scared. I don't get it. I promised him I would stop doing it. When I hung up, I did one more cut. I did one the following morning as well. I have to do one tonight as well. I don't feel so good.

Thursday, May 18

life-saver

"Hey, you, can I ask you do you know CPR?" the man in the uniform
behind the counter asked. 'You just did' I thought, and felt my wrist
wounds. "Yeah, of course!" I replied and continued walking. Sorry, I
don't do life-saving, I do the life-wrecking. Ironic, isn't it? I
start to wonder how many times I've used the word irony. You know, I
used to see myself as someone who had defeated faith or something
like that. Because I MANAGED things. I MANAGED to have male friends,
to score Christian, to be true to myself, to be a good person. I've
lost a lot. Continuesly, throug the last 3 moths, I've fallen further
down below. I've become weak. What do I have left? Friends, people
say. True, but friends don't take the place of Dignity, Pride and
Respect. I'm writing this post on my mobile. I'm outside of
Christian's house, waiting for him to come home. It's raining.

diagnoses: suicidal

"Uhm. I've just been very very sad, for a very very long time." I said, and my voice was deep, as it usually is, when I'm holding back a cry, "And then I..." I showed her my wrist and didn't feel I needed to explain. They're not big bloody crusts, but they make their point. They are my ticket out of this mind. Once people start believing in me, I may get the power back I've lost. The confidence. Maybe mum will even start noticing me again? Oh mummy, don't pick a favourite again. I don't need the fact in writing, the silence between us says it all.
The doctor gave me an appointment Tuesday 30th, 14.45. She asked me if I was certain it could wait for so long. I nodded, "It has too, I have no other choice." I answered. I didn't want her to feel guilty. She wrote a long piece of text to the doctor, I'm going to see. I'm sure the word 'suicidal' was in it. I didn't use the word 'depression', as Christian once told me that it was not what I had, and people with depression had it much, much worse. Action speak louder than words, I figure.

I am nervous about Christians reaction. I'm afraid he'll do something drastic, in respond to the word suicide in our relationsship. His father committed suicide. It's a too big of a subject for him to decide to forgive&forget. I don't want to lie to him. Isn't he bits of the reason I did this?
I'll just hide them, I won't have to lie, and I won't have to admit to it.

It hurt. But not on the inside. I caught myself smiling, as the blade of the scissor went in. It stained when the blood was to be seen. I actually laughed. It struck me; I had become one of those. The stupid teenage girls, whom I've always badmouthed, because I thought they were silly and just seeking attention. All of a sudden, my eyes have opened and I suddenly feel for most of them. I do it to seek attention as well, I don't do it to die. If I was to die, it would probably be the cause of me crossing the road without looking first. I've begun to do that as well. Just not look, when I cross the road. Not being afraid of walking past a gang. Not caring having the CD player playin in the bathroom, while I take a shower. No one ever told me directly not to play with water & electricity. If I die, it will be from accident. Not from suicide. I will not commit suicide.

Most of my words are silly, and so are my actions. But it says a bit out me, doesn't it?

Wednesday, May 17

you gave me nothing, now it's all that i got

So, I cry very often. Often at night, because that is where the majority of the depression sets in. I cry during movies, during talks over MSN, during walks with Christian. Everything that has to do with me thinking about me, causes me to cry. The next time I cry, I'll cut my leg. Nothing big, just a scratch. Perhaps get a scar, something to remind me. Cause I need to pay, I need to suffer. I need to pay for what I have done to Christian. I am afraid, that if I don't do this, the pain will continue and I will never get redemption. I still ache from it, from that, and from the loss of Andreas, the mailing back and forward, from Peter, from school and at last, from the lack of self-esteem, which has returned.
I have never felt as bad about myself as I do now. I can say things about myself; I'm stupid, foolish, disgusting, bad, idiotic, superficial, ugly and fat.
I used to say those things out loud, knowing deep inside that people thought differently. Now I believe in them, I can feel it.

Wish me luck.

Tuesday, May 9

Peters brev, der senere blev til mit brev, og som altid, endte med at være om Andreas...

Peters brev, der senere blev til mig brev, men som altid, endte med at være Andreas' brev

Jeg skriver dette, uden at vide om du nogensinde modtager det, og i så fald, hvornår.
Forestil dig at du skal gennemføre en kompleks labyrint med bind for øjnene - det er nær umuligt! Forestil dig så at du så labyrinten ovenfra - og pludselig giver det hele mening.
Det er lidt sådan jeg har det nu, d. 9 maj 2006, på mit værelse i Farum. Jeg ser år mit liv 2005-2006 ovenfra. Jeg analyserer meget, det ved du godt. Jeg analyserer hele tiden. For første gang, mener jeg, at jeg er nået frem til samtlige grunde til hvorfor jeg har truffet alle de valg jeg har truffet. Og stadig, finder jeg mig selv siddende med den samme lave selvtillid og det samme ekstreme savn til 'what once was'. Så hvad kan jeg bruge analyserne til?

Måske, er det mindste jeg kan gøre, at bringe mine konklusioner videre. Som hvis en mand fandt en kur for kræft, og ikke ville vidrebringe den fordi "han ikke havde lyst". Min første, og mere generelle konklusion er, at jeg græder for meget. Der var en gang hvor jeg slet ikke græd, og nu, er mine tårer stamkunder på min pude. Jeg græder tit, og over mange forskellige ting. Mest over mig selv, for jeg er selv destruktiv. Dette er en helt anden konklusion.

Meget, græder jeg over dig. Ikke savnet af dig. Jeg græder over de ting vi gjorde, de ting jeg gjorde, de ting jeg ikke gjorde & burde, de ting jeg derefter gjorde og de ting jeg aldrig skulle have gjort. Hvis ikke det var for mine valg, havde min hverdag været meget anderledes og jeg ville ikke behøve en lang række af bamser på min seng, som jeg kan kramme i søvn imens jeg græder.

Kan du huske at jeg engang sagde at jeg aldrig fortrød?

Ja, det er så blevet forkert. Omkring denne tid sidste år, havde jeg bind for øjnene, og prøvede at finde vej gennem en gigantisk labyrint. Nu ser jeg det hele oppefra, og let som det er, kan jeg se hvad jeg skulle have gjort.

Èt, at nyde livet. Jeg burde ikke have taget ansvaret for dine og Andreas' følelser.
Havde jeg ikke gjort det, var vi to aldrig blevet uvenner til at starte med. To, at lære at undskylde. Jeg plejer at være godt klar over når jeg begår fejl. Den gang kunne jeg ikke se mig ud af labyrinten, ingen af mine valg virkede som fejl. En undskyldning ville have betydet meget. Tre, at følge min intuation. Jeg vidste fra starten at vi to aldrig burde komme sammen, men jeg mente det var en god gerning at give dig en chance (eller 47) og dermed har vi allerede én fejl på min liste over mine valg. Den måned var ikke disse tårer værd. Om du kan give mig ret eller ej, ved jeg ikke, men i vores tos tilfælde, vejer et venskab højere end kæreste-forhold. Fire, at se på Andreas som den han var, og ikke for den jeg ønskede han var. I dag, når jeg læser min dagbog, kan jeg se hvor langt oppe på piedestalen jeg placerede ham, og hvor langt nede i kælderen, han har følt sig. Oveni, burde jeg også have taget forbehold for løgne - små, hvide & store. De var der. Jeg var bare for naïv.

På trods af gode gamle ordsprog om ikke at forsøge at ændre fortiden, tror jeg alligevel det hjælper. Mit forsøg på at vidrebringe mine konklusioner, vedkomne dig og jeg; undskyld for min reaktion på dine forsøg på at få mig tilbage, efter jeg slog op. Undskyld for alt negativt jeg har fortalt andre om dig (sandt eller ej, det var en åndssvag ting). Undskyld for at jeg ikke stoppede, da jeg burde. Undskyld at jeg forstyrrer dit perfekte ungkals-liv med dårlige minder og ligegyldige optræk i følelser. Undskyld for at jeg har været ved at ødelægge noget mellem dig og Andreas (du bestemmer selv for hvilken gang jeg undskylder). Undskyld.

Jeg føler at du kun var min ven, fordi du ville have sex. Jeg føler at Andreas kun var en ven, fordi han ville have en anden kærlighed, end den jeg kunne give ham. Idet vi to sluttede efter vi havde haft sex, og Andreas og jeg sluttede efter han fandt Ida igen. Jeg tror ikke helt du kan forstå præcis hvordan de følelser føles. Tror ikke de negative elementer kan findes i hovedet på mænd. Udnyttelse. Kun en positiv ting, ikke sandt?
Nej. Ikke for mig, ikke længere. Muligvis den gang, men I dag smerter det
usandsynligt meget. Jeg var jeres ven, fordi jeg elskede jer. Vi var et fællesskab, vi var venner, vi var alt det jeg altid havde ønsket mig. Og det kom helt naturligt for os. Jeg følte mig respekteret og for første gang i meget lang tid, følte jeg mig rigtig selvsikker. Forestil dig hvordan det har føltes idet jeg har indset det ovenstående. Fra det konkluderer jeg; jeg har aldrig haft en RIGTIG ven, som i RIGTIG RIGTIG ven. Jeg har ikke været respekteret, men udnyttet. Jeg har ikke været elsket, men blot eftertragtet. Jeg var ikke en ven, jeg var... Hvad?

Og så går det op for mig: Den eneste grund til at den tid i farum 10ende føltes som den bedste tid i hele mit liv, er, at jeg rent faktisk troede på at i var mine venner, fordi i elskede mig og ikke af nogen andre grunde. Og så føler jeg mig meget, meget ked af det. Og derfra bliver det vel til mit problem udelukkende, og dette brev til Peter, bliver et brev til mig, og dermed ligegyldigt.

Nu står jeg endda i endnu en labyrint, med bindene for øjnene- igen. Jeg har lært få ting af sidste år. Jeg har lært at sætte pris på det jeg har- Derfor er jeg sammen med Christian i dag, og har lært at elske betingelsesløst og med hele mit hjerte. Jeg har lært at det er værst at fortryde noget man har gjort, end det er at fortryde noget man ikke har. Jeg har lært at drenge VIRKELIG tænker med pikken.

Det bringer mig videre til Andreas. Jeg mener, hvor vover du? At bringe mig i sådan en situation, hvor jeg er på randen til at miste det eneste jeg har tilbage. Jeg er i forvejen blevet holdt for nar for dig i over et år.

Du var min bedste ven engang, imens jeg stadig troede på dig. Du er stadig det mest
følsomme emne der er for mig at snakke om. Hvis jeg skal stave dit navn, når jeg ikke forbi "e" før jeg er grædefærdig. Ingen, og jeg understreger, ingen har nogensinde betydet så meget for mig, som du har, og det er en kæmpe mundfuld at miste (sluge?). Jeg har altid forsøgt at være den bedste ven i verden for dig, altid prøvet at være der for dig, være ærlig, hjælpe dig - jeg har endda valgt dig frem for Peter, dengang der var en konflikt. Jeg har fået sådan cirka lort i hovedet.
"Jeg var kun en fantastisk ven, fordi jeg var forelsket i dig. Nu har jeg ida, så nu kan jeg kun være en god ven."
Det sagde du engang, og Gud, hvor har jeg taget det til mig. Jeg forstår at du aldrig har set på mig som en bedste ven, og måske ikke engang en ven, men hvordan blev den følelse til en umenneskelig én?

Før episoden med Peter, fortalte du mig, når jeg spurgte, at Peter var ligeglad med mig. Han var ikke sur, han var faktisk så ligeglad, at jeg ligeså godt kunne dø og han ville ikke ænse det et sekund. Så stod jeg pludselig i en labyrint uden bind for øjnene, men anede stadig ikke hvilken vej jeg skulle gå. Jeg valgte så at ubevidst, at forsøge at 'vinde' Peter tilbage - jeg ville bare have at han havde følelser for mig igen. Ikke romantiske følelser, nej, men venne-følelser. Dér troede jeg nemlig stadig at jeg engang havde betydet noget engang.
Jeg troede at kyssede jeg lidt med ham, ville vi blive venner igen. Dumt, ikke? Jo, men prøv du så at løse puzzlespillet hvor halvdelen af brikkerne mangler, og motivet er en græsplæne. En ting ledte til en anden, og dér ødelagde jeg kæmpe dele af mit liv - igen. Først bagefter fortalte Peter mig at han rent faktisk hele tiden han brudt sig om mig, og gerne ville være venner. Det havde sådan set intet med dig af gøre, ikke før, du tog sagen i din egen hånd. Det må have været dér jeg indså at du også må have følt dig fanget i en labyrint. Du har jo været venner med Christian og Peter. Og endelig var der en mulighed for at udelukke mig - da jeg jo hele tiden havde været en 'last minute resort'.

Og nu beder Christian mig om at snakke med dig. Om hvad? Han forstår jo ingenting af det. Jeg har ingen grund til at sende dig dette brev, velvidende hvad du har gjort og hvad du har haft af intentioner. Sender jeg dig dette brev, vil det udelukkende være for min egen skyld, for at få øje på en del af menneske i dig, eller for den sags skyld - ANDRE!

Jeg er træt af at græde. Jeg indser nu, at dette brev burde have været til Peter, da jeg kun skylder ham en undskyldning, og det er for de ting jeg gjorde i fortiden. Men alligevel kom til det at handle om dig. Det gør det jo altid, ikke sandt?

Sofie
___

Too long to translate. I just mailed this letter to Andreas. Let the menace begin.

who i am, who i want to be, why i want to be who i'm not, how to be who i want to be

Dr Phil McGraw (yes, I know it's not good to start a sentence with that name, but it's necessary) has taught me that making a goal, is always important. In Farum 10th, I was who I wanted to be. I had friends around me, wonderful friends, who all loved me for who I was, and not for clothing or looks. For the first time, my personality was my best feature. Notice that my friends were boys. Now I'm in 1g, and my friends are all girls. That means, that clothing, hairdos, make-up, shoes, etc is all important. That means that I get more observant about these topics and since I don't really like either, I begin to feel bad about myself. It's awful and it's just an evil circle, which I don't like.

I have an example. I've always had the belief that one should never base their image or opinions on what others expect/want/demand. I have rarely done so myself. In 10th grade, I was strong, I really did not care. Saturday, I bought myself a pair of shoes, which I loved. They're difficult to explain the looks of, but they were well, yellow and kind of.. country'ish, with high heels. They weren't that expensive. Mette and Pernille were with me, and while we were waiting for the train, I put the shoes on. I said I probably would have to learn how to wear high heels, and I knew I wouldn't walk in them often, as I'm not in the need to grow any further.
They started laughing, mocking, I'd say. The train arrived. They walked behind me telling me how people were staring, saying it out loud even, so that more people became aware of it. I became more and more nervous and began to walk even more foolish'ly. There I was, right back in 2nd grade, being shouted at from all sides by the evil kids in gym-class. I ignored the girls, as I ignored the evil kids back then. I changed my shoes though. It still hurts. I still love the shoes. I won't wear them ever again.
Today I went shopping for shoes with Christian. We saw a pair similar to them, just with lower heel and with a prettier surface, much prettier. It was obvious that Christian didn't like them, so I picked the pair he actually did like.
-> I'm ashamed of myself. It's against all I stand for, to make up my mind, based on others. To wrap it up, this act of insecurity, comes from the lack of self-esteem I've begun to suffer from again, since I got lady friends. I also get the feeling that it's one of the reasons why I cheated on Christian. I guess I seeked Peters and Andreas' company so bad that I would do anything to get the feeling back. I subconsciencely knew it was ruining me and of course, it ended up worse than it had started out to be.

Writing a factual book, you always have to have a conclusion. I'm afraid I don't have one on these facts. I see no solution. Self-confidence comes from the inside, and how is that just going to grow?

I can't change my set of friends, I'm very fond of Annia, Cennet, Ghadir, Seher, Christina and Amalie. Besides, the boys at my school are as bad as the girls. Outside of school, I have Christian. I'm lacking guy friends and it could almost make me cry, cause it's an equalibrium to confidence in my head.

So. What to do?

Thursday, May 4

feelings of spontanious rage

When you don't post that much in your diary, a lot of things can happen inbetween posts. And a lot of things have happened, especially with Diva. Since he shouted at me in the bus, we haven't talked. I've cried, of course, but I haven't tried to unite us again.

Thursday 13th april, Christian had his birthday party. Kasper was there, Johan and Nikolas, it was all perfect and hillarious. I got drunk almost immediately, because of Nikolas' drinking game. I haven't been that drunk since the time at the christmas lunch in the cabin in December. Anyways, I remember sitting in Christian's bedroom, playing with my mobile, calling and writing people. I remember that I wrote fault-free. I remember I wrote Peter, I don't remember what.
The night ended late and I went to bed with Christian, praying not to get hangovers the next morning (useless prayer, by the way). I forgot about the Peter-thing - it really had no relevance at all, and Christian wouldn't exactly feel any better about it. Besides, I hardly remembered what I'd written.

A couple of days later, things couldn't be better with Christian and I. We'd even started having sex again, with naughty underwear and my confidence was almost building up again. Everything was great, although I had the feeling it wasn't permanent. And how right I was. One day, Diva visited Christian and soon enough 'Christian had something to talk to me about'. Diva had told him that I'd texted Peter that night. Nothing can describe how I felt that moment. It was a mixture of strong anger, frustration, rage, sadness, guilt and hopelessness. Plus, I felt so fucked by everyone. 1) Christian who bought Diva's crap 2) Peter, who've told Diva and 3) Diva for being such a little slut.
We got through it. We stopped having sex for a bit. Two weeks later, things were okay again. We dealt with it.

And then... I came home to meet with Christian after a trip to the movies with some girls from my class. I was happy to see Christian, I was almost surprised of how much I'd missed him. And then it felt like some little bitch named Andreas punched me in the stomach- again. Now, Diva had told Christian what was in 2 of those messages. It's probably true that it was there, but still, I can't be 100% sure. The context doesn't matter, I think.
Christian confronted me, and that was when I felt 100 times worse than I had the prior time he'd told him about those messages. I started yelling and acting up, yellings things like "Who the hell defines what's relevant?! You want to know everything about the night I fucked up? For how long, where, which positions, if it was good, did I scream, how big was he?! I'll tell you every fucking detail if that means that little bitch will leave us fucking alone!" I was crying and all emotions collapsed inside of me. Christian then said that it was important to him that nothing was being kept a secret... Then I suddenly remembered.
I was surprised to feel a smile on my lips. I told Christian about the kisses Andreas and me had had. I told him that Andreas had been in love with me for 3-4 months. I told him that Andreas was the person I'd cheated on Peter with. I can laugh by the thought.
Diva told me never to tell Christian that. And I told him he'd always be my best friend. Oh well, promises never do last, do they?
Christian didn't know how to react and I cried myself to sleep that night. Plus many, many nights ahead. I even did so last night.

Today, at this moment, Christian is confronting Diva. I can't wait to hear about it. Yeah so it might come back to bite me in the ass, but Diva will probably give up, now she realises that she has compentition and that I won't just give up.

On another track, Mette is coming tomorrow. I trust it oh so much, and I don't even want to doubt her this time. I have to clean up my room tonight, make plans and think about how to get money for a present for her. She'll stay here till Sunday. It's her birthday. I can't wait.
Looks like my life's almost good?