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I am me.
That's a fact.
The problem is I always believed I would die before 16.
I almost did. Kind of a close call.
I feel like I should've died there.
I can recognize myself when I see pictures of me in 7th grade.
And younger.
I don't understand HOW I got here. This far. I'm almost 18.
I love myself. I love all and every part of myself.
But I don't understand.
How am I here? How do I look like this?
Why did I have to experience the things I did.
Why me.
Why. me.

I can recognize myself through these blog posts.
I see my writing.
I can (somewhat) recognize myself when I look at a mirror.
But I can't stand looking at pictures. Videos. It's not me.
It IS me that's the problem.
The problem is I'm still here. I'm still here.
I shouldn't be here.
I shouldn't.
I am not.
I am.
I am not.

I FEEL HYSTERICAL.
I CANT FUCKING TAKE THIS FEELING
I am so. goddamn. exhausted.
I help alot of people.
Or I like to think so, but.
When is it my turn?

I can talk about my things freely, there's nothing that is holding me back about talking I have zero issue with telling every single detail about my experiences and my life.

But no amount of talking helps.
Therapy helped. I miss Ari. He was the only one to understand.
I can't have that anymore.
I can't fucking carry this.
I'm so tired.
I need. a hug.

I feel like I'm losing myself.
I can't understand or recognise clearly enough, how much I've grown, how much has changed.
I can't recognise me.

I feel like I'm slipping. Maybe..
Maybe my brother was right. About the numbers.
When you see 111, 222, 333, 444, 555... Twice?
Yeah. I can't think straight. I want to be somewhere.


I don't want to be alone.

~ Admiration of the hated, twisting image of self. Life's teachings, zeroed by life itself. Idols, harbingers of chaos. Rebels through war, martyrs to prove their vision. Nullified by own beliefs, lock it all up in time's chest to vanish. Loveless existence. This silent sacrifice, to the goddesses I offer. ~

Tämä luki viimeisessä blogipostauksessasi.
Elän uskossa että tämän jätit minulle. Ja kirjoitit lapun äidille.
Toivon eläväni elämän jota kuuntelisit ilolla. Ylpeydellä.
Toivon että olet ylpeä minusta, miten olen vielä täällä.

Täällä olen ja pysyn.
Kulje kanssani.
Kuljen kanssasi.
Vihaisit sitä tapaa miten muistelen sinua. Samaan aikaan tietäisin ymmärtäväsi. Tunnet minut paremmin kuin itseni.

Joskus muistelin että olisit ollut kattoon asti. Olit mun silmissä ylijätti. Pitempi kuin mutsi.
Muistan sun naurun, ja kuinka sydäntä lämmittävää sitä oli katsoa,
hymyn joka valaisi huoneen vaikka sä et sitä ideaa kestäisi.
I wonder a lot.
I shouldn't.
Each time I just end up imagining untrue things.
But in the end I love you.

Sometimes I've wished you could see the same sunsets as me.
Sometimes I've hoped you were still here to see me, maybe you'd be proud of me.
Sometimes I sigh in relief that you don't have to be here.
I'm glad you didn't have to be here to witness Eddy die. Or Nuppu.
I never would've thought things would escalate or that living would become survival. I never thought I would go through horrific things and get out alive.
Each day of nothingness and begging for something, to see some sort of light in the clouds and to have any direction whatsoever.
But it's been white walls and yellow lights.
It's been many close calls of death and afterwards wondering how I'm even still alive.

I live for nothing.
Not even me.
Not for mom, knowing I was the reason she stayed alive.
Not for you, knowing you would want me to thrive.
It's been for nothing and with nothing.
And yet I long for reason.
A purpose.
There's nothing and I'm still here.
Yet there's everything-

But overall? In the grand scheme of things I shouldn't even be here.

It's been unimaginably difficult to try to live by me, for me, and to think for myself. I wonder how you managed. If you ever did.

Whenever I go through your blogs, I feel like I'm looking directly at my soul. And through yours aswell.

Maybe you're with me. I'd like to believe that, and not some fairytale.
Not heaven or hell, you never wanted either, you just wanted peace.
You deserved more than peace.

It's a burden to live with my own thoughts. I hope I'm able to share my thoughts with someone. Or here if all else fails.

We haven't talked much, huh.

After almost 10 years of you... gone isn't the right word. You're not gone. Maybe you're right next to me. But gone? You will never unexist in my heart.

Almost a decade.
You would've been 30 years. IMAGINE. YOU. THIRTY. Yeah it's hard for even me to imagine.
And me, I'm turning 18 soon. Weird to even recognise. Didn't think I'd even turn 16.

I'm getting tattoos in your honour. You'd hate me for that for sure.
But I want to have you close to me forever.

I need you.

Oh the times I prayed for someone who could fulfill my wishes.
The nights I cried wishing you never moved. The days I couldn't get up from my bed because I knew once I checked your room you wouldn't be there.
Nothing was.
Everything that reminded me of you wasn't there. The few things I have- are not enough. Nothing will ever be enough to remind me of you, nothing will ever bring me the joy of hearing your voice again, nothing will ever.
I just have to live and reminisce.