Hanging by a moment

5.14 AM, Borås, Sweden

Dear diary,

Oh dear. It seems like I'm suffering from terrible separation anxiety. I'm going through all my stuff, packing everything into boxes once again. My life, my possesions, memories - everything neatly put into a box and stacked. I'm having a hard time keeping myself happy while looking at that pile of boxes... what can it be... two cubic metres? Three? Such a tiny space, still it contains my whole life. My reality. Makes you realize how small and worthless your existence really is, just a tiny piece of dust in this universe. And yet we think of ourselves as superior, the human race. Talk about hypocrisy...

Anyway, I'm slowly starting to feel like this separation will be harder than I thought. When I first made the decision, it all went so fast. I got the call that Tommy had left us, hung up, sat down for a couple of minutes, then announced to Johan and my parents that I was moving back. Afterwards, I felt relieved. As if me moving here was totally unplanned, and that now I could turn things back on the right course again. But I'm not so sure anymore... The first reason I wanted to move here was to get closer to my friends. But when I finally got here, nearly all of them were no longer considered friends. So all I had left was my memories of the times I spent here with my ex-girlfriends... and that made me realize that once again... I was chasing after shadows of the past, desperately trying to make them become reality again. And that ain't going to happen, never again...

I've spent nearly a year here, 9 months at least, all while doing nothing to improve my situation. And now I'm leaving again. I'm going to miss this place, so bad. It feels as if my leaving is the end of an era, the final sign that I'm now giving up my 6-year long pursuit of the past. Yeah, that's right - for the past 6 years everything in my life has been about the past, I've tried so hard to make my memories into reality, a desperate try that has made me do terrible things to many people, some who have deserved it, and some who have not. As I sit here today, in front of this screen, I can honestly say that I regret everything, from the first moment it started. But then again, it was inevitable. My treacherous mind led me down this road, and took me to the very end more than once, only to cut the noose and throw me back out on the road again. Six fucking years of chasing, hating, bleeding, suffering... all for nothing. The people I have sought to bring back into my life have only gotten further out of my reach, some of them hate me and never want to see or hear from me again. I have successfully eliminated all my possibilites to share my memories with them ever again, or to have a friendly relationship with them. I've burned my bridges, and I've been standing on the other side, crying out for someone to rebuild them and let me walk back to where I came from, the only place where I felt safe. Six fucking years, gone, wasted on chasing ghosts, trapped in the prison of my own mind. Maybe it isn't over - I know it ain't over - cause' I'll never, ever, stop thinking about the past, and how much I miss it. If only I could go back in time, and do everything from the beginning. I would give anything to make things right.

I'm gonna continue going through my things, I guess... but this feeling is only getting stronger. Looks like I'm back at square one. Again.