Why brain, Why? *sob*

I just woke up. Like most of the times when I wake up in the current state I’m in, I’m super-duper confused, and for some reason asking myself questions.

Where am I?
What is my name?
Do I like pudding?
Are my legs still legs or have I turned into a giant spider?

Ok, I must admit the last question isn’t really on my list, I just thought of it, but I usually have some weird question going through my mind like ”Are the gecko’s still on the ceiling?” or ”Please translate the following Latin text libera eas de ore leonis into English and how is it relevant for the piece it is found in?”(I’m really not kidding, my brain has managed to ask me these kind of questions.)

… Ew I just got a mental imagine of me with super long and hairy spider legs getting out of bed and seeing it in the mirror… I am screaming internally and trying not to gouge my eyes out. Which I did when I saw my face and had to slap two hands over my mouth and close my eyes in order not to wake the entire neighbourhood up. I have since then calmed down somewhat.

I just managed to fall asleep… ok that was a lie, it was around 3 in the morning, but why do I have to be super awake at 5? I try to fall back asleep, something that is usually very easy for me since I sleep very long hours and very deeply, and I know I still have a few hours before my doctor’s appointment. And I know that even if I fall asleep I won’t be late because I have lots and lots of alarms that will wake me up in about 2 hours. Brain refuses to go back to sleep. After trying an entire 5 minutes, I get up. My brain is wired. Like 30 cups of coffee and caffeine pills wired. So I get up, get myself some water, put on some music and start writing. I feel crazy. Like Harley Quinn and the Joker falling in love crazy.

Yesterday was… hell. I don’t remember the last time I felt that angry at everything. I’m usually angry and want to smash things, but yesterday it became more difficult to control the impulse.

Yes, I am quite impulsive. But you don’t usually see it. Which is why people doubt me when I say I have an illness. Which is fine by the way. Doubt away, but don’t mention it to my face. It’s like mentioning ”I have a dog” and then being told ”that’s your imagination, because you’re a crazy person who wants attention”. (Scratch that, most people actually say that to me.) My brain will not allow me to let it go. I will rise to the challenge just a tiny bit, then sit back, deflated and ashamed, talk about other things, and then when I am alone (and often about to go to sleep) I start weeping uncontrollably and feel like a liar. There is nothing worse than feeling that you are lying about who you are. So instead I actually lie, or tell people I’m kidding at the end of every sentence, so they never actually know if I’m lying.

I am extremely sensitive, I will cry over everything.

”You’re plant died.”
”The dog barked.”
”We’re waiting for you in the car.”
”You sound too formal when you speak.”
”Your favourite show is on.”
”You can’t pronounce anything correctly in Korean/Japanese/English.”
”I like chocolate.”

It takes less than that. And I’m being serious, the last time someone said any of these things to me, I had to lie down on the first flat surface where I wouldn’t be killed by oncoming cars, trains, planes or stampeding giraffes/water buffalo’s and cried as quietly as I could. When asked what was wrong I answered ”nothing” and that I ”wanted to cry”.

Seriously?! Who wants to cry?(Anyone who answered ”yes” to that question, deny it right now.) I don’t know about you but my face weighs about 5 times what it’s supposed to and makes me look like Gollum. Who would want something like that? … Unless you are imitating Gollum for some reason, then go ahead and cry your heart out. The crackling voice that you get afterwards really makes you and the character one.

A demonstration:

Yesterday I was on the bus, minding my own business, listening to music as loud as I could (because I can, that’s why) and saw a little girl, around 6 or 7 I think, sitting with her mother (who had a cello case with her, you know, one of these huge violin things that you ”rest on a friend” to play according to Eddie Izzard) and her grandmother. They were all talking and seemed to be explaining things to the girl who didn’t want to listen, but they were kind about it, patient so she could understand what they wanted to say. I had the urge to burst into tears, grab the kid by the shoulders, yell ”they are a real family!”, hug her like a teddy bear and then run away screaming, waving my arms hysterically in the air. I really wanted to… but I didn’t. I have a normal family, I had a normal upbringing. So why would I do these things? Why would I feel the need to do them? Why does water taste so strange? Why does the picture of the baby elephant with ducks or chickens or whatever the hell it is make me bawl? So many unanswered questions.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, I came home super tired, tried to sleep. Failed. Tried to sleep again and failed again. Finally managed to fall asleep and woke up two hours later and tadaa! Here I am. Awake but half asleep, most senses impaired and brain trying to translate Latin. It’s nowhere near accurate, but you gotta go with the flow… right?

…There is a bird outside of the window I think. Or somewhere close by. It thought it would be nice and sing me the song of its kind. It won’t be trying that again.

Ha ha birdie, ha ha.

… I threw a shoe at it.

*runs away bawling, waving arms in the air and slowly morphing into Gollum*



I write like a 4 year old… and I’ve studied English at the university. Sometimes I come across ”large” words that aren’t that childish at all. That’s when I don’t want to use them because they complicate my brain and give me the anxiety and pressure that I have to continue writing with the use of large words. So I don’t. Besides, writing like a 4 year old is great… most people understand me! In normal everyday life no one understands me because when I speak I confuse myself and other people. Half of my English teachers tried to fail me because they wanted me to extend my vocabulary, which I did, but I never bothered using it… I can’t put it into sentences, I’m not Shakespeare or Lord Byron! I am a pathetic critter who write terribly and make no sense at all! They should know this as a fact because I once wrote something with ”large” words and it ended up gibberish! Give up hope already!

When I’m around other people I want to sound all smart… unfortunately that’s not possible, so I choose to cry and bleed internally and force myself to shut up. Unfortunately there is always someone who doesn’t know me that well, so they ask my opinion and most of the time the conversation spirals wildly out of control and goes like this:

*bunch of smart people talking about a smart subject, one of them turns to me*

Friends: -What do you think about this situation? How could it best be resolved?

*expectant looks* ß see their mistake?!

Me: -Well, spiders are scary, there is a man in a monkey suit holding a penguin and eating sushi upside down, and also…there is a dust bunny under the bed. I shall give him the name… Bunny.

*crickets can be heard as they all stare at me, laugh nervously and then ignore me while I cry and bleed internally*

And that’s pretty much all my conversations! I haven’t been able to answer anyone’s smart questions because I don’t actually have an interest because I don’t think I have the brain capacity to think about them! …*whistle* that was a long sentence… Luckily most of my friends now know to ask me questions on my level so that my brain understand. So the conversation with my friends are much simpler.

Friend: ”Hi! How are you?”

Me (in the style of Dylan Moran): ”Situation is hopeless, I am fucked! I hope you’re good!”

”You bettcha!”

See? Much easier and no complications in my brain. Just the truth and then you ignore it! And now I have completely forgotten what I was going to talk about so I am not going to process it and I’m just going to continue with something else.

Boyfriend just told me I was a bad person (not in so many words) because he did ask me if he could help me do the laundry. I think he’s missing the point here. He may ask, but he doesn’t do it. He even said that he would bake me a cake. I don’t believe him. And he didn’t bake me a cake, because he bought me a cookie yesterday… I liked that fucking cookie it was awesome. My brain is mixing things together. He says things, but he doesn’t do them. And I’m oddly fine with that… unless I am kicking and screaming at him, then I wasn’t fine with it, but it’s a good way of letting him know how I feel. Express yourself!

Anyhow, today I get to see a pissed of doctor who is going to glare at me and ask me how I am… and why I didn’t take the blood test to make sure my body is working properly so I can go on medicine to feel normal instead of my rollercoaster like I am right now. In symbols I look like this:

o.O O.o… in rapid progression. Basically just move your eyes from one symbol to the other quickly.

I never know how to end these things. The ”I must go” line has already been used.

Screw it, ”never put a sock in a toaster” and never cut your hair cut on a Tuesday. Serious advice…

Laundry and Stuff…

I started an account on Sunday (yesterday) and today is Monday. I was going to spill my secrets to you, about all the little details of my life that have gone horribly wrong or right. But I won’t because then I’ll sound raving mad. Which is fine… but it isn’t at the same time.

So I’ll start of a little softer with a hello. Here goes nothing:

*turret voice from Portal 2* Hello!

Well that worked out just fine, I don’t know what I was so worried about! Well, now that’s over with I can continue with longer sentences about what’s going on today and maybe a little background history… you know just so you understand… me.

I’m a girl. I like computer games. I like books. I have the mental illness Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and am slowly making my way through life day by day. I have trouble forgetting things.

(Wasn’t that a great and subtle introduction my illness? Say things I like and then let it slip in there so nobody really notices until they do and gasp at the ingenious way I have added a secret about myself. Don’t you just think it was brilliant? *facewalls at own idiocy, because facepalm is not enough*)

It’s not that I CAN’T forget, but my brain REFUSES to forget. The only thing that ails in the process of forgetting is alcohol… which is dangerous considering that if I drink 1 drink I will not stop until I am either fainting from it or only remembering the sound of me throwing up and embarrassing my relatives and new additions to the family like I did last summer (that wonderful story is better left for some other day when the memory doesn’t make me want to throw up and make my face burn with shame… no seriously I can smell the plastic). But it does help me forget everything that has happened… although sometimes I wonder if it is selective and therefore only lets me forget the really important things that everyone eventually quizzes me about. And the shame the next day… oh the shame, the shame… *puts face in hands and sobs uncontrollably*

Oh, and I have a boyfriend! He shall be mentioned (if he is ever mentioned) under the creative name ”boyfriend”. He’s lovely, and he’s such a cutie pie. He’s also a terrible human being at times. Aren’t we all though?

So right now I’m doing laundry. Haven’t had anything clean for the past 4 weeks because I’ve been depressed and lay on the floor because moving hurt too much and boyfriend just doesn’t do laundry. He used to, but then we got together. Maybe that was a disastrous turning point of events? I don’t know, but whatever the reason, soon I will get annoyed and yell at him. Then I will cry hysterically for an hour, to hysterically die of laughter over absolutely nothing for the hour after that. You know what maybe I shouldn’t yell at him… too much exercise.

He says he loves me…constantly. Nothing wrong with that, but I reply like Dylan Moran, saying he should bake me a cake. I hate cake, but it sounds worth it. Until I figure out what I would want him to bake, I will keep on using cake as the only option.

Laundry is awesome. Like most cleaning products, I love the smell of laundry detergent. It smells great but at the same time kind of like rotten fish, with makes me go ”mmmm!” to then go ”blergh!” and continue this until I, a) sound like Eddie Izzard b) fall over and can’t get up or c) get the evil eye from boyfriend.

I must go now… my laundry needs me!

Good night.

And some finishing words on what the lesson for today was: Never let the purple unicorn come dancing into your living room, because they will scare the spiders who in turn will jump on you and… it will not be… good? Nope sorry lost my train of thought… I shall return to it when I remember what it was I actually wanted to say.