Sunday, September 6, 2009

Mechanical animals

9.24 AM, Borås, Sweden

Today's soundtrack;
  • a whole lot of Moonsorrow
Dear diary,

I'm still not feeling too well, but I'm getting better at least. Been worrying all in vain because of all the media reports about that damn disease spreading. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to have it... after all, I do like staying at hospitals, being taken care of by (hopefully) hot nurses isn't that bad.

So today it's Sunday, the day of rest, but except for last Friday I've been resting pretty much all weekend long. I helped my sister move in her stuff in her new apartment last Friday, it was hard work carrying all that furniture and boxes around, so when I got back home I fell asleep almost instantly. The plan to go home in the evening didn't work out because it took too long to move everything in so there weren't any buses or trains that I could make it to. Instead, I left early on Saturday morning and went to sleep as soon as I got back home in Borås. It feels like I could have kept sleeping through the whole weekend, 'cause I've been doing nothing but sitting on my ass in front of my laptop. Listening to music, playing games, talking to people on MSN or the web... It all feels really pointless. But maybe that's what my existence has turned out to be - pointless. All of my dreams and plans are so real in my head, but I'm doing nothing to make them happen. It is as if my head is too fucking stupid to realize that things don't get moving by themselves, you have to work hard to make your dreams come true. And I'm not lifting even a finger.

This pisses me off, obviously. But does it help that I get mad at myself? No, of course not. Still sitting here. Still doing nothing. Still sleeping my life away. Constantly looking for reasons to blame my apathy on. Is it my mental state? Most definitely. I think that in order to become creative and dedicated again, I need to kill the skeletons in my closet, and tear out the demons inside my head... but that has proved itself to be impossible so far. If anything, it has only led to an even worse condition than before. So maybe I'm avoiding the fact that I'm too fucked up to function, only because that insight leads to too much pain and mental suffering. I'm getting more and more certain of that. But don't worry, diary, I won't stop telling you about all the insanity that goes on inside of my head. I'll give you something right now.

I'm starting to scare myself. There are things I'm afraid to tell the people that are close to me even if they have become fewer and fewer over the last months... simply because the things I want to tell them would push them further away from me. But let's forget that other people are reading this shit for a while.

I can't seem to find my feelings. I don't know when all this doubt started, but it has become clear to me during the last few weeks that I'm not able to enjoy things the way I used too. I cannot find pleasure or amusement in pretty much anything. Everything I do, whether it's playing, singing, meeting other people, or even spending time with myself reading, writing or just thinking, I can't enjoy the way I used too. I'm constantly in a state of restlessness, only being able to do one thing for a limited amount of time before it gets boring or uninteresting. Where I've before found great pleasure and joy, I now only find despair and irritation. This applies to everything I carry out, and even applies to how I feel about other people. I can't give any honest feelings anymore, I can't sense love, joy or trust on most occations I've been able to feel it before. Ask a doctor or a therapist, and he would tell you that this is a typical symptom for depression or other mental illnesses... and we already know I'm suffering from a variety of such. But back to only 2 months ago, I would suffer from this in solitude, not putting any weight or guilt upon any others. But now I have my girl, and it scares the living hell out of me that I'm not feeling as strongly as I should. I mean, I love her... I really do, 'cause she supports me in every way and gives me much strength and comfort. She's my safety, and in her arms I feel like nothing can hurt me. But what if this is only an illusion? What if I've been lying to myself, telling myself that I can love again just like everyone else, and is doing everything on routine? It's frightening to think that way, but it might just be the truth. And I will never forgive myself if I hurt another girl once again, only because of my own vacuousness and fucked up mind. She doesn't deserve to have it like this, having a boyfriend who loves her, but can't tell how it feels, 'cause he's forgotten how to really love someone.

I know you're reading this baby, and maybe you're gonna start worrying about us. I would too, but talk to me, and tell me you understand, and we'll work this out, one way or another. I refuse to give up the battle this easily, but if we lose, at least I gave it a last try before I finally give up hope on myself ever being well again. This breaks my heart... and you know what? I kinda' like the feeling, cause' if I can feel it, it means I still have a piece of it left that still can feel. Maybe it's the last dying piece, or maybe it's a growing piece. Time will tell.

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