May 1st, Monday

These last couple of weeks have been tough. I feel as if my life has gotten to a standstil. No idea about which direction it should go, what i could do. I feel overloaded with things i should have done, then i feel guity about them, then i feel bad about myself. And there's so much stuff that needs doing! But once i feel bad about myself there's even less chance that i'll get my ass moving and actualy do anything about them.

Often i think "if i could just smoke a joint, then i'd feel better", then i think about how easy it would be here to just sneak downstairs and get some out of the tin where my dad keeps his stuff. Or the drawer. Or the cupboard. It's just guilt that keeps me from doing it. Guilt, and the knowledge that once the part of me that wants to drown in narcotics got the door open even a tiny crack it would want more more more. I find it difficult to remember how bad it was when i was stoned all the time.

Other times i want to hurt myself. I feel so totaly worthless. I feel as if i deserved pain. At the same time it feels as if it would be such a relief. to well do i remember the blood welling up through my skin, through the 2 dozen cuts i would inflict on myself at a time. Covering my arm, flowing down in beautiful red streams, drowning the toilet paper i used to keep it from flooding my clothes and my bed. I don't remember any pain, i only remember light, and sensation, and beautiful shiny red. But these days when i think of cutting it isn't on my arm, i think of cutting on my neck. Sometimes i just sit there in a daze, imagining the cool blade slicing through my skin, wondering how deep i would have to cut to reach anything major. I just sit on my bed, imobile, figuring out how i could bring it to a final conclusion. Of course my fantasies also include that part down there. I figure an orchiedectomy can't be that difficult. A small incision, then slip it out and cut all the tubes and blood-vessels, use lots of disinfectant. Don't know how to stop the bleeding afterwards.

Sometimes i starve myself too. Luckily not often. It happens most often when i don't have to get up in the morning, when i tend to skip breakfast and lunch, and have a snack in the afternoon. I know i shouldn't do this, but when i've got nothing to do it's just so difficult to motivate myself. As a result my weight is always balanced precariously at the limit to underweight. I'll loose a few pounds without noticing, and then fight for weeks to get them back. I think the average last month was a couple of pounds lighter then in february, but the last 2 weeks i've been gaining again. I lost a lot during my holidays a couple of weeks ago. Eating by itself is quite pleasurable. It is afterwards, and to a lesser degree before, that i feel sick about it. I am also quite particular about what i eat. If i prepare something for myself it will almost allways contain raw vegetables. And there's all kinds of things i don't eat. At least this isn't as immediatly harmful as smoking or cutting would be.

Of course with all this i'm often quite depressed. All to often i think "kill myself". And allways i answer NO. But recently i surprised myself, and asked "why?" instead, and answered myself "because i have suffered long enough". This was very scarey, because it sounded so rational and calm. I picture various ways of death for me. Splattered at the foot of a church tower. Dangling at the end of a rope. Curled up in my shower, the water washing away the blood. Then i think of the poor person who would find me. I also think of the end of last year. I was doing so much worse then, and still didn't do it. I also think about the time when i tried to kill myself, so many years ago. Afterwards, when i was lying in the hospital bed, with needles and tubes sticking in me, hooked up to half a dozen machines, i felt so glad that i was alive. But it also seems that my current suffering is so much greater then back then. And if i tried then, then why can't i try now? Perhaps it's true what they say, that through all our suffering we grow stronger. But if all we get is more suffering, then why should we suffer? I just don't know.

Then i ask myself: "when did i last go out?" I used to go out several times a week. Dancing, to concerts, for drinks, untill 4am. I used to hang out with my friends all day long, talking, eating together, having fun. Nowadays i'm scared to use our comunal kitchen. It seems as if it's full of strangers, with ugly scary faces, who i don't understand. Sometimes i wish i was a werewolf, or a vampire. I'd be a monster, but at least i wouldn't have to be scared. It was so easy to play the happy go lucky fool, to whom nothing could matter. Nothing could hurt me. Nobody could see what was eating me up inside. What was (and is) slowly destroying me. How much i hate myself. Nobody imagined that somebody who could draw such beautiful pictures could be so ugly inside. Lotus rising out of the mud indeed. Only that i was the mud.

I remember how shocked i was when i started writing, a year and a half ago, and all that came out of my pen were scenes of violence and torture. In my old paper diary there's pages and pages filled with people hacking each other up, pouring molten metal down peoples throats, skinning themselves alive. I've had nightmares recently. There were bugs and ants climbing up my legs. Burrowing into my skin. I could feel them crawling up inside my legs, underneath my skin. And there were people all around me, just watching, and i was as much a horror as what was happening to me.

Then i get so angry. When i see people driving around in their 100'000$ cars, and showing off their newest cell-phones, and bragging about their army-experiences, and how they'd just forced another 5% discount out of their busines partners, and they've just bought another firm they can use as a tax-writeoff. And every 10 minutes another species goes extinct. And everywhere there's women and children being abused. And then they are sooo horrified when another person gets caught. A quarter of the male population at least are rapists and abusers. And then a damn breakes and releases tons and tons of cyanide, wrecking an ecosystem for decades. And everybody goes "how could that happen" and forgets about it a week later. And another species has gone extinct for ever. In Belarussia there's an area as big as switzerland that by any standards of measurements ought to be treated as radioactive waste. And we continue to send depleated uranium to sellafield and la hague to be "enriched". And we continue to prolongue the licences for hazardous nuclear installations. If the russians stopped all the lecks in their gas and oil pipelines they could turn of all their nuclear reactors. There's dozens of nuclear warheads missing all over the world. And another species has gone extict as i write this, and i wonder how much of that was my fault. On the internet you can buy antipersonel landmines for 50$, designed specificaly to maim, not to kill. At the same time multinational pharmaceutics companies take african nations to court because they manufacture life-saving drugs by themselves without paying royalities, royalities that would eat up a quarter of the national budget every year. And kiddie-porn is for free (type "+kids +sex +violence" into your search-machine, and get 100'000 results). And 500 old men own half of the worlds private property. And women do 70% of the world's work, and control 5% of the worlds income. And another species has vanished for ever.

I get so angry. I plan terrorist attacks. Where to place the bombs to close the town to motorized traffic. I would like to join greenpeace as an activist, only that they're much to peaceful for me. Or design a virus that would wipe out 90% of the worlds population.

And then they play old revolutionary songs on my radio-station, Joan Baez, and i start to cry.

And another species.............