I paint you no more

01.50 AM, Falköping, Sweden

Dear diary.

Nothing interesting to tell you about my day. Woke up around 5 PM, got up, placed myself in front of my laptop... and I'm still here. Been talking even more to Caroline, feels great, we have so much to discuss, and it looks like I'll be meeting with her sooner than I thought, I'll be going home to Småland next week, and so will she, so we're planning to grab a coffee together and talk about old times.

Things haven't changed a bit - still miserable, constantly having panic attacks, and overmedicating myself. My body's starting to feel it, and the pain in my heart won't go away. I guess you could call it a slow suicide, and I'm not gonna fight it this time. It is as if my ties to this world are slowly fading, and I am bit by bit disappearing into oblivion, just like a fairytale. Isn't that beautiful?

I know you're probably letting the thought of me go more and more now... and I wish I could do something to stop you, but all I can do is to be honest.

I need you.

Night'