No place like home

Dear diary.

Cause' that's what you're supposed to write, right? I tried one of those real diaries, actual books, that you are supposed to write with a pen in. But that didn't quite work out, I just sat and stared at the blank pages, not being able to transform my thoughts into written words. Since I spend most of my time in front of this screen, I might as well use it for telling the story of my life. Most people call it "blog", and look, it even says so at the top of this page. Wikipedia tells me that a blog is a;

"website, usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video."

That could pass as a diary alright. And since I'm such a sucker for attention, what could be better than to display my personal life for the whole world to see? With that said, maybe I should write something you're supposed to write in one of those things...

As always, I'm still awake at this late hour. The nights seem to be the only time when I can gather enough energy to write something. So far, this day has given me no pleasure at all, with constant thoughts racing through my mind like razorblades. I wrote to Tina on bilddagboken yesterday, and our conversation ended with her writing "you are dead to me, do not contact me anymore". I received it, and as usual, responded with anger, a childish attempt at getting her to give me some attention. But as always, I felt regret afterwards, but did not write an excuse to her. So that must be some sort of progress I suppose. I still can't stop thinking about her. It's like a constant movie being played over and over again in my head, containing everything I love about her. Her smile, the way she kisses me, her soft skin, her laugh, that cute sound she makes when she sneezes. So yeah - I'm in love. Go figure. But I won't shove it up her face at least, and that's a huge difference from The Old Me, who would act in anger and selfishness, and hurt the people who were close to me. Fuck...listen to me, I sound like I'm some kind of shrink, trying to make a diagnose of my own, sick, twisted mind. How cute.

Anyway, plans for today:
- Go to Skövde with Erik and buy some cables he needed
- Silence the voices screaming at me from inside my head
- Not write to Tina, leave her the fuck alone for once. She deserves it.
- Go to bed early (like that's ever going to happen)

I'm such a hypocrite, but hey, we're all fucked. I just try to make the best out of it. You should, too.
In the future, I see a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
Later