Sitamar

A very short Easter visit from my parents and sister. They brought food and juice. Dad was very nervous the whole time here and criticized the giant work I did yesterday and this morning to clean it up here to look at least a bit normal. It’s such a luck he doesn’t know how it looked yesterday before I started cleaning. And the smell. I must say I touch a lot of things with my bare hands, I’m not scared of bacteria, but THAT I DID NOT TOUCH. Rotten vegetables and cat food. Just imagine a messie’s house with layers of ancient food rests and dead animals rotting under piles of crap, and you get close.

And I’m bothered by it. The smell, the mess. It’s not like I enjoy living that way. It’s a damn shame to see that shit in your own kitchen. I’d not let anyone else clean it up unless I’m bound to bed or kept in hospital (or arrested) for longer.

They all commented on the mess (and it hasn’t been this clean here since a month!!), but the most I guess dad was bothered by seeing my gun boxes up on the shelf visible to everyone, posters, my books and games maybe. Mum doesn’t know about my guns and I don’t know if she noticed the boxes, at least she did not say anything. We made a short tour with my sister driving the car. I can only imagine the discussion in there after they dropped me here. I don’t make myself any hopes of anyone of them trying to defend me…

Well, there is a certain thing about my place that I noticed yesterday quite clearly. It looks like two people would be living in here. A male and a female. And in a way there ARE. There have always been two people inside of me. I don’t have just a bipolar stirred up confused identity, I have two parts that act as individuals, have little or nothing to do with each other and would likely deny the other one’s existence if allowed to grow.

Not like one of them would be passive and the other one aggressive, they seem to both have similar traits. I can’t say which one is “me” or “the real me” which I’d like to find in here some day. They are somehow surficial, like just roles – I’ve had so many – but actually they control my doings all the time. They can switch within seconds, which can be confusing in the middle of a conversation, and I see that is confusing my family (here: biological relatives). My home has a basic void, no certain style or atmosphere, and about 60% of my stuff represent the male side, with occasionally or randomly placed female side objects to stir it up. This mixture makes it look restless and without a personality. Very divided. I have tried to give it a steady look in some places but it doesn’t really work as many of the objects here are too important to just keep packed in boxes somewhere in closets.

When you come in here it first looks like the living place of a nerdy man in his early 20′s, with two computers, childish game posters (quote of my mum from today: “Is this Killzone the game you bought? Isn’t this all a bit… Childish?” ;D), cardboard boxes standing at the wall, at least one airsoft gun in living room, visible, and two in sleeping room (usually on my bed). At a closer look you start noticing a soap looking like a cupcake, in lavender, colorful picnic-box, Buddha-statue, glitter, pink Hello Kitty stuff, often I have roses or tulips on the table, a silver shabby chic style candelier, souvenier dolls, nice dishes, bowls, decoration stuff. Then you notice the dust, dirt and cat hair. And then after a while the void. Furniture a mixture of high-gloss, shabby chic white ones, Ikea shelves, real wood or rattan, and some stuff I’ve gotten for free.

Well I did not buy Killzone. I bought Homefront, Metro 2033 and Arma 2 extension pack. Might have said this before… Childish or not, who are you (mum) to criticize my fucking life? At least I HAVE ONE!!! There are some reasons for what I respect my parents, but their constant critic and contempt is not one of those. It’s not even their life experience. I have seen a greater variety of things, if not more then stuff that is ten times as tough. It’s a big trait (or might be from the view of some) but I was in a way raised to see myself (and our family) as superior to others. I look at my family with the same contempt they look me at, and everyone else must first earn my attention. But it’s a heavy cross to know that even when being brought up upper class way we have NEVER been upper class. We always were poor and have a family history of peasants and proletarians and red rebels (in the civil war). There has been mental sicknesses and alcohol abuse, possible psychological abuse of children in both family sides. Great genes!!

Me and my both siblings have grown to become rebellish, with mental health problems, social awkwardness or other problems, self image problems, trust issues, alcohol abuse and whatnot. None of us has made it to really belong to the upper class or at least something better than where we came from. My sister and brother have a university finished but both have not brought it forward. My brother has hope as he earns a good money and has a good job. I was the one who married to a middle class farm family in a rich foreign country. And I betrayed everyone my moving back and starting a life like this that everyone else views as a failure. My sister learned something she will never get a job at. She’s trying to live a yuppie lifestyle as her friends and ex-boyfriend, but it breaks her budget and sanity and makes her work around the clock for as much as no respect from her friends who will always have it bigger and better than her. Good luck there! I will not work my ass sore just for a social status. I will go for it but nice and slow and making sure it will last.

Hmph, enough of that. :D Actually I wanted to tell some late dreams I’ve had. Nightmares have started to come. Not very strong, they only affect the first ten minutes after waking up, and no consuming of human flesh yet.

Two nights ago I dreamt of puppets who had water and dirt gone inside the body and they had grown mold. I digged them out of under our old house, they belonged to my brother. They smelled and I was disgusted. I was feeling hopeless and missed my home in Germany, and wished I could move back there. And then I felt like I can’t betray myself by doing that. I promised I will make it alone.

Last night (? I’ve lost the sense of time long ago) I dreamt my brother called me. He has never called me all the time I’ve lived here. But two days ago I got a message from him that said he’s taking photos and sharing them with us. He’s in Tchernobyl over Easter.

Then there was this odd, realistic, panic dream. That was definitely last night, cause I watched American Psycho yesterday evening before going to bed, and it came from it. The first time I’ve ever seen it. In the dream I was in the old school where I went for the first 9 years. I was on the 8th class, and was living at the school in a student hostel. There was one depressed girl I used to bully. I made her cry and cut her arms in despair. I was living a double life and when not at school I murdered people as my twin, Billy. And I wasn’t very careful and left DNA on the murder scenes. Stoooooopid. After finding out the cops were coming to the school to search for the killer I panicked. I was living as two persons at the same time and in the dream it’s a dream reality, so I could be identified as another person. Like, we had the same DNA, the same mind, but our lives had nothing to do with each other. That’s how it is sometimes in reality too. I feel like I have no connection to the other side of me. Well, in the dream I ran to the school nurse, holding my head that felt like it’d explode, totally blinded by panic, fear, horrible conciousness of the bad things I had done and what would happen with me. At the nurse’s I saw the girl I had bullied, and felt like I can’t go there when she’s there. I stayed in the hallway. She got scared and turned to wall crying. I went totally crazy, it felt like my mind was going to burst any second and I started to scream and lament to myself.

So happy to wake up in the cold emotionless reality!! ;D It’s what I guess my mind does to work on the subjects that are shocking. In daytime, when conscious I block those feelings so well it looks like I have no empathy, grief or feelings of guilt, but at night those things come out extremely strong.

Also, I have never worked on my very early on gained PTSD which seemingly has hold of my whole life. I have feared so many years every day in my childhood. I could trust no-one. I grew up to block all feelings and reactions, to that that I already before the trauma had odd behaviour and never learned any social skills.

Two weeks ago my psychologist made me feel as that kid once again. I noticed I’m not ready to handle those things yet. I have no answers, I panic. It’s so much easier to just keep blocking feelings.

Yesterday evening after the film I wanted to try and draw something after a long time. Guess what I drew? It’s NOT pleasant, for most of people. I felt simply NOTHING doing it. I marked every thing clearly and detailed and felt absolutely as mush as if I was planning how to cut a chicken to pieces. It’s a simple drawing of a female figure, naked but with no sexual organs marked, with detailed descriptions of how she is killed and how the cuts with knife are positioned. It shows a certain signature, partially of torture, mostly extremely disrespectly handled, might have a message written on the chest with small knife. Shows mostly signs of a male killer, someone who hates women.

That side’s here, in me. The basic victim profile is someone who resembles my mum or that teenager I should have been/too adult acting teenager girls. Basic victim is female, weak or weak but acting out as strong. Easily manipulated (control) or someone who fights back (hate). Might be male victims as well but under 15 year-old (control/misleading investigators).

The week’s been crazy. Literally. I went nuts last Sunday and it took a few days until my meds started to work, and they’re still not doing it well, I’m EXTREMELY unstable. In some days I really try to not to think about homicides, in some days I just give up to the plans. I wish I could chat with someone… Someone else than the predator inside. :/ He’s telling me bad things and trying to lure me into really going out hunting. It’s dark and cold and I need something to release the pressure inside. All the stress, unstable restless energy. I don’t know what I should do. I think I just go to Youtube and watch some game/shooting videos.

Got my new computer working but have not had really much time for it. Tomorrow put it on and do something with it. Maybe playing Fallout a bit to test out the controls and dying all the time. ;D

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Wow my best friend came online! Night saved!! Whatever I have said above is meaningless as long as I have someone like him to talk every now and then. :) I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison. I want to be free, meet people I like, do things I like, try to prove my family I’m not the loser they think I am. I want to have the future I sometimes think I see before me. Thank you, everyone who is supporting me on the way!!