until sunrise

2001-08-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

är det nu som jag ska försöka påstå att jag har varit så förbannat jävla lycklig att jag bara inte har haft tid att skriva?

2001-07-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

måste allting vara så förbannat jobbigt? och ida är försvunnen förstås.. jag vill ringa, men samtidigt så undrar jag om hon.. hon drar sig undan eftersom hon är trött på alla...inklusive mig, och i så fall så skulle jag bara tränga mig på..
är jag för hård mot folk? om man bara tittar under ytan lite grand...så verkar.. så känsliga.. gör jag fel?
det handlar om riktiga människor, inte...låtsaspersoner, fiktiva.. men det är så svårt att se bakom orden.. bakom allt som bara.. allt som jag har sagt är inte jag.. det mesta jag säger är inte jag.. delar kanske, men inte hela jag, så varför är jag så snabb att döma andra? hur kan man vara så förbannat kall och okänslig?
så, förlåt mig, men jag måste skada något.
vilken del av mig är på riktigt?

2001-06-22T18:00:00.000-07:00

om man är riktigt ij-ig, eller för mycket som mig, kan man kanske ha en söt flicka vid sidan om verkligheten... eller också kan man försvinna till indigo alldeles alldeles själv, supa sig riktigt full och ta en taxi hem och bara vilja gråta...

2001-06-04T11:14:00.000-07:00

javisst ja! dbz var det ju. freeza...

2001-06-04T10:55:00.000-07:00

hur var det nu..? orkar inte direkt tänka...

2001-05-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

internet explorer verkar inte gilla times new roman efter att jag tog bort alla de där tecken-plug-insen. inte för att jag bryr mig särskilt, bara bra med oläsligheter ibland. man slipper läsa allt trist.
hur ger man egentligen upp att försöka leva? det känns som om jag skulle göra det om jag bara visste hur.
visst är det fan vad alla nätmänniskor är ytliga! "tyck synd om mig, jag är sinnesrubbad och deprimerad och blah blah blah" jovisst...

2001-05-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

there are all these things that i feel bad about, although they don't even really matter to me. i mean, i don't really want a site. i just want somewhere to write every now and then, but i still i feel bad because i haven't coded a large amount of neat html. and i couldn't care less for 'angsty' (yeah right... angst is physical, not something that depends on how many 'awful' experiences you manage to pile up) fanfics, but i still feel bad because i'm not 'contributing' or whatever. and i don't even like half the people i email, but i still feel bad because those emails may not reach their recipient because of some fucking server error or something.
all this 'net related shit that comes to mind just because i happen to be sitting by my computer... it's ridiculous. i wish i'd get sick so i'd at least have something to blame.
'skin up, pin up'... i have to find the cd.

2001-05-29T09:43:00.000-07:00

i don't know... i mean, i just... it's like... i feel so blah.
it's like i want to be some adored fucking goddess or something, and instead i just feel like a worthless little kid... and i still feel like shit because i've never been able to do anything that'd be even remotely worthy of adoration. well, i'm sort of concluding that no one else is worthy of adoration either, but how the fuck am i supposed to feel better just because everybody else are just as uncreative and dull as me? okay, so it does make me feel a little better. as well as a fair deal more cynic. and more obnoxious. well, i wouldn't really want to be around myself right now, so maybe i shouldn't blame people for avoiding me.
anyway... yeah, the good part... ah, just scew it, i'm so frustrated... i have nothing better to do than to indulge in sexual fantasies. just realized that masochism in others doesn't do anything for me. heh...i'm all for sadism though. i had to file down my nails. just when they were long enough...
why are all the girls i know so fucking hard to reach? it just sucks... i could go out and get a guy in no time, but what good would that do?
i used to feel so guilty for fantasizing. now i just... well, maybe not quite 'over-do' it, but... i should just make up a scene... (oh, i do.) i still laugh at it all. except when i angst, but screw that. don't think about it and it'll go away. not really, but...whatever.

2001-05-27T13:27:00.000-07:00

how can i envy people for their lack of realism? for their way of being, writing, acting as if they're part of an action movie?
well...it sounds good. actually i think that's the only reason. beauty will always make up for all flaws. if you can make it sound good, you can tell someone anything and they'll believe you. either that, or they won't believe you but still accept what you're saying. because it sounds good. people want to believe what sounds good. i guess i do too, and that's why i'm envious.
i can't say things just because they sound good. i always have to try to convey what twisted version of truth i'm currently believing in. and the truth (or what i believe to be the truth, which in fact are two completely different things of course) is usually pretty dull. pure fantasy sounds so much better, even if no one would ever act or think or believe that way if they were ever faced with those imaginary situations in real life.

2001-05-22T14:39:00.000-07:00

it's...clawing at me and just sort of filling me with all sorts of unpleasant emotions. (emptiness is so tempting sometimes, i don't want to care) you know... jealousy. i thought i was more secure than that. i really thought that this time i'll be able to handle it. (don't i always think that?) and yet, every time she as much as talks to another girl i just want to sink through the floor and never have to show my face around anyone again. i shouldn't be jealous. i have no reason, and no right. it's none of my fucking business whom she talks to or flirts with or trusts. i'm jealous because i'm afraid she'll leave me. i'm jealous because i'm afraid she'll find someone else who's better than me. i'm jealous because she deserves someone better than me. i'm jealous because i love her and i think about her all the fucking time, and i'm jealous because all the things i'm imagining that we'll do some time in the future are things that she with utmost certainty will be doing with someone else. not me.

2001-05-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

i just...thought about the way i've been acting lately. i'm sort of (completely without success) seeking the company of strangers, while avoiding everyone who knows me.
can't be healthy.
fucking hypochondriac.

2001-05-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

"drama queen"
"melodramatic bitch"
"attention-starved slut"

2001-05-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

i bow in awe before the people who are so much better than me.
just figuratively of course, but i do.
and it doesn't make me worthless.

2001-05-17T10:35:00.000-07:00

hmm.. rumour (or whatever) tells me that it's all about getting to a point where i can't possibly get more pathetic without my self-preservation instincts kicking in...and after that it just has to get better. nice. found it last night. i'm an idiot. well, at least i can laugh about it now.

2001-05-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

i'm scared. you see, i'm not good enough. i'm really really afraid, and i can't even hide behind an invented internet identity anymore. i'm just as afraid online as i am offline. i'm just as unstable and insecure as i was a year ago.
it won't get better. i hoped it would, but...it isn't. i was placing my hopes on the medication. i had good reason to, seeing how the sedatives worked. i really want to take them again. i still carry them around in my purse, and it's ridiculous because i get rashes and my heart races and i can't sleep when i take them. sounds harmless.. maybe it is, but i can't take medicine i'm allergic to, regardless of how good they make me feel. and they do. they make me feel great. i took them for maybe...two weeks? before that i had one of my good periods, so i suppose it feels longer..
they.. i was still the same person when i took them. they didn't change me, didn't make me a better person or funnier or nicer...but they made me stop worrying about those things. when i took them i didn't care that i'm not all that fun to hang out with, not all that great-looking, not all that smart, not all that interesting. i didn't care about things like that.
i cared about the little things. like how great it is that i do have friends who still want to be with me even if i act like an idiot sometimes, how nice it is to have a job that i'm good at and which actually pays (not a lot, but enough), how many good-looking girls there are in this town and how much fun it is to flirt, how i may not be the next in line to reject the nobel prize (yeah, existentialist right here...go sartre!) but people still say they like some of the stuff i write. when i took the pills it was enough.
now i don't take them. the ones i take now let me sleep at night, which is something i can't do without medication, but they do nothing for my moods, and that's what i need something for. now i don't take the good pills, and now nothing i do can ever be good enough.
i spend eight hours a day at work, handling at least a hundred cases (i counted to seventy this afternoon, plus 30 - 40 in between post and phone duty in the morning). i handle a hundred cases or more, and if every single case is flawlessly taken care of except one, then that one case is the only thing that will remain in my memory of the work day. if i spend two and a half hours on the phone (only counting the mandatory morning phone duty when there isn't even really time to go open the window between callers, and not counting the time i spend talking to bank officials and so on during the afternoons), answering god knows how many questions concerning my job, and i know the answer to every single question except one that i have to pass on to someone else, then that one question will ring in my ears all day, making me feel like the most incompetent idiot in the world. i'm even new on the job. i'm only on my third week, and no one's expecting me to know everything. no one except me. if i don't have all the answers, then i'm worthless. if i make a mistake, then it really does feel like it's the end of the world.
when i took those pills i was good enough. when i took those pills it didn't matter that i'm not perfect.
when i take these pills...nothing will ever be good enough.

2001-05-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

fan... totalt upplösningstillstånd och så funkar inte dagboken. nästan så man borde gå tillbaka till papper där. vad ska jag göra? kan någon vara så jävla snäll att tala om för mig hur fan jag ska bete mig för att sluta må så förbannat dåligt? jag vet inte... okej, instabil har jag för fan alltid varit, inget nytt där, men nu trodde jag faktiskt att det skulle försvinna. jag trodde på att det skulle räcka med lite jävla tabletter för att jag skulle sluta känna det som om jorden går under med varenda lilla mini-motgång jag råkar ut för. jag hoppades, och det är kanske därför det känns värre? om man finner sig i det och slutar drömma om något bättre, så kanske det är lättare att ta? nej, det är det förstås inte, men den här gången så hoppades jag ändå.
visst är det dumt... så bara låt mig vara ifred. jag orkar bara inte just nu. dra åt helvete.

2001-05-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

i'll just die out of embarrassment... seriously. i'm so ashamed of my stupid behaviour lately that i don't know what to do with myself. maybe that was the only thing that the sedatives did right; they made me stop worry. i feel like a complete idiot, and i've acted even worse. it's kind of hard to be a snobby bitch while being completely aware that i'm not a shred better than anyone else. actually, it sucks. and not in a good way. everone's writing lemons. i'm probably doing it less than most. i'm a whore for c&c though. i'd write a fucking pokémon lemon if someone asked me.
i'm bored. extremely bored. i'm bored to the point where (if i hadn't been so incredibly terrified of sharp objects) i wouldn't mind cutting my arm or something equally stupid just to taste some blood. and i'm not even particularily fond of the taste of blood. i might as well just go chew on my keys or something.
i'm bored. really bored. i just said that, didn't i? well, i meant it.
i'm so bored, and i'm in such a self-loathing mood... i hate myself. really, truly hate. i'm the most pathetic creature on earth. i can't stand being around myself. i wish i could leave. well, i'm kind of stuck, so no luck there.
did i mention that i'm bored?
dostoevsky ruined my life. believe it or not.
existentialism suck.
i don't want to feel bad.
isn't it funny that life is completely pointless, living is suffering, we're all victims, it's impossible to ever truly get to know another person, there's no such thing as the truth, self preservation is stronger than love, and yet no one cares?
i wish i didn't care. most of the time i don't. i do now. it sucks.
i'm bored. i'm lonely. i'm sick. i'm selfish. i'm hateful. i'm a lot of things; none of them good. not right now anyway.
isn't it funny that none of the things i'm good at ever counts to me because there's always someone better?
i wish i could be happy about being second (or whatever) best. i'll never be the best at anything, so i should just accept it and move on, instead of seeing everything i do as failures, just because someone else is bound to do it better. i don't even respect people who are better than me, i hate them with an insanely jealous vengence.
yes, dostoevsky ruined my life.

2001-05-08T10:09:00.000-07:00

sådär då... klarhet klarhet klarhet klarhet logik. måste försöka ordna upp tankarna lite innan jag börjar(?) besvara mina mail. alla är inte vana vid mitt klagande... svårt, tankarna suddas ut och försvinner. det funkar liksom inte på svenska. alla bristerna i resonemangen blir så jäkla uppenbara. så visst, jag kan ju gnälla för att kate inte har skrivit till mig än, men fy fan vad ytligt det skulle vara. jag kan även gnälla om mina johannesörtstabletter, men herregud, hur jävla klen får man lov att vara?

2001-05-07T13:22:00.000-07:00

jo, en företagsinteckning som är beviljad måste lösas ut. blev lite rädd ett tag där. skulle vara synd att göra bort sig totalt på nya jobbet. jag i telefonjour... oj, oj...
underligt vilken skillnad det är på språk. att man kan känna sig så totalt som någon annan så fort man börjar skriva på engelska. så patetisk när jag egentligen inte alls är sådan. det logiska tänkandet funkar bara inte på engelska.
fan, vad jag hatar morgnar!

2001-05-05T07:27:00.000-07:00

i guess i've been a bit hung up on the issue of pain lately. what's real and what's imagined...
maybe it comes from my recent close-up studies of a couple who are in the precess of breaking up after 23 years together? from reading so much about other people's pain? no, beyond all that... i still consider this to be more real than all the other forms of 'pain'. true suffering doesn't really hurt. i'm convinced of that. what hurts is the indulging... which is why some people can go through absolutely horrid experiences completely unphazed, whereas others fall apart at the slightest adversity (or lack thereof). sometimes it's easier to deal with those things than it is to deal with the absence of them. sometimes the presense of concrete pain makes it hurt less. the emptiness is probably the most painful, since it is what breeds depression. nothing is ever larger than life, not even love, and nothing ever makes more sense than reality.
i called paulina. answering machines freak me out.

2001-05-05T06:13:00.000-07:00

så... jag borde kanske inte få lov att läsa det jag själv skrivit. gick tillbaka och tittade på nigeru, textfiler och... minnen av vad jag tänkte men aldrig skrev ner. jag är tillbaka i det där väntandet, det där som nigeru, fly, symboliserade. verklighetsflykten, sökandet efter någonting mer än det som är den riktiga verkligheten. jakten på någon med riktig smärta i stället för den här påhittade... sorgen, saknaden efter något som inte ens finns. ensamhet kombinerad med en stark... frånskjutande "rör mig inte!"-mentalitet. och den där förbannade "rape me"-mentaliteten... "do it and do it again"... "break me"... något riktigt konkret... "and i'm a little bit angry"... "yeah, we just might feel good"... ibland vill jag bara skratta åt mig själv, men just nu så... man kan känna så mycket, och jag vill inte vara kall, jag vill att det ska göra ont.
jävla hypokondriker.
lördag idag. ut?

2001-05-04T13:22:00.000-07:00

jag är alldeles för jäkla lättimponerad. och så förbannat tävlingsinriktad. som om... som om en dagbok skulle handla om vem som är coolast. ha, gissa vad, jag får en jävla massa poäng bara för att jag är svenska. det finns positiva saker med att var icke-engelskspråkig. tänk på dem som inte är bättre än de verkar. jävla snobb...
men visst, sonya är någon slags jävla patetisk varelse, och ju mer engelska jag blandar in, ju mer förvandlas jag till... just det.
små söta gula tabletter. bara johannesört, receptfritt, men ändå känns paniken inte långt borta ibland.
lördag imorgon. ut.

2001-05-04T13:09:00.000-07:00

i just remembered why i stopped writing my diary on-line the last time. it was as if i was the only one who could separate reality from fantasy... maybe because i'm the only one who can acknowledge this pathetic side of me and make it part of my personality. yes, i'm sad sometimes, and i'm depressed sometimes, but i always have been. it isn't the end of my world. i'm not falling apart, and if i am... then it's a slow process.
i showed her the pills i take and she... it's part of me, but maybe it isn't part of her version of me. maybe she was right. maybe she doesn't know me. maybe i don't know her. almost four years, and she's the only real friend i have, and she doesn't know me well enough to know that i'm a worthless hypochondriac. funny... she doesn't know how much i've started to need those pills to get by. the idea of those pills. the idea of something to take my (fictional) pain away.

or maybe i stopped speaking my mind when people started to listen. sometimes i really need to talk to someone who isn't listening. i need to be pathetic and know that i won't be judged. and still... it has to be public. if i'm not the center of attention, i'm nothing at all. it's like... phone duty at work. phones actually scare the hell out of me, but i really love answering the phone at work. there's that thing... the people who call don't give a fuck about who i am, but they are still depending on me. it's almost... they can't ignore me.
i'm afraid of that. of being ignored, shoved into the category of the less interesting, second-rate... useless.
no logic. i don't want to make sense. i'm terrified.

2001-05-04T12:39:00.000-07:00

sometimes... i wonder why people won't need me. other times i'm just downright pissed off because some people won't leave me the fuck alone, but sometimes...
i really hate needy people. i can't stand it when people claim to care. i don't believe in compassion. sympathy is just a hidden form of absolute sadism, aimed to make others just as miserable as yourself.
i don't believe in romance, and yet i'm a hopeless romantic. i want nothing more than to be swept off my feet. more than anything, i want someone to break me. take me apart completely. i want to get hurt.

2001-05-04T12:24:00.000-07:00

i'm pathetic... but it doesn't bother me all that much, so i just sit around and listen to matchbox20 (kody!) and eat chocolate. i'm blaming the pills of course. i'm always blaming something, but most of the time i'm just making stuff up. this time it really is the pills. kind of funny... taking medicine that makes me sick when i feel okay, and depressed when i'm almost happy. almost.
the thing is of course that i'd gladly give up those incredibly great days.
maybe it's all or nothing.
most of the time it's nothing.
maybe right now it's everything. i feel great. i'm listening to matchbox20 (shame!) and eating chocolate. maybe that's life. i don't really expect much out of my pitiful existence. i'm not expecting to be happy. i don't care if i'm loved.

my fave game of make-believe... kiss a guy. deep. take a step back. look at him. gloat. it's nice. i never put a single shred of emotion into it anyway. people don't matter to me.
i'm a self-centered bitch, you know. i don't care about anyone but myself. i used to think it made me a bad person or some shit like that, but now i just... accept it. it's who i am. so what if no one can stand being around me? so what if i can't stand being around myself? that's what the pills are for, isn't it? they'd better start working soon. i want a new scar. my current one is so small and fading...

2001-04-21T09:36:00.000-07:00

so.. when i'm thrown off my real journal site... well, 'thrown off' is the wrong way of saying it of course...
why do i even care anymore?