I was 10 or maybe 11 years old when I first startet to write. In a book with a horsecover. I wrote mostly poems, but afterwards I could write several pages. Always in the same way I do today. I write about myself, just I don't mention any names, and always trough self perspective.
As I think I was, in a depression, or maybe just an outsider. I used most school days and classes to sit and write. Time passed, the book was almost filled.
I was a smart girl, and I noticed the teacher stopped sneeking over my shoulders when I wrote. I noticed she always where inside the classroom before the classes started.
Then one day she told me to stop my writing, to focus more on the social activities, and see a bit around me instead. That very same day, I wrote than all the shitt I could think of in that book, about my teacher, how rood it was to read others private stuff, how she rather could tell me that I was disturbing her lessons, if she really wanted me to stop. I left the book on my desk, and I understand she read it.
I never stopped writing, still later I did it more secret.
She never complained again.

When I was thirteen I again used writing to something more than just fun. It became "my way". If I don't count the cutting, it was the only way to escape myself.
It helped. I got better, I now wrote short stories and even more poems, in both english and norwegian. I had this diary on the web, and I wrote in scratch books, and just on word programs. I even startet to paint my feelings.
My writing followed me trough the time I were not allowed to go outside, trough the time I lost my very best friend (she tried suicide and got locked in for several months. I was not allowed to talk to her, not even now, her parents blame me for her problems. Like I make people shizo, yeah..). I explained myself trough the writing, why I threaten that girl with my knife, why I ran away from school, and why I almost fainted once a week. It helped me when my parents searched my body for scars... I can't count all the times it was my savior.
As my mum actually is clever, at some points, she noticed and went trough all my diraies, all that I've ever written.
That day I wrote 4 pages about how much that hurt me, how much I "hated" her and never could forgive her for leaving my dad.
She never touched my writing again. still I hid it more safely, to a place she never will find. And now, I just write on my own computer and have a password to open it.

I'm not going to tell you that I hate you for this. Because I don't. ( You know who you are. I guess you're sitting at your room right now, in that blue chair, probably smoking (rød), I know you read this. ). And I'm not mad at you, and I'm not going to leave you for this. Maybe I understand why you do this, why you read it... Maybe I don't.
But I don't believe you'll give me an explanation, ever. Maybe I want you to. Maybe I don't. I guess it will be a relief to me, if you had the guts to admit it, but on the other side... I wouldn't do it either.
It's alright to me. I'm used to it. I won't wake up tomorrow and think about it.
Whats done is done, and its okay.

If you want to know anything about me, if you need an explanation from me, just ask.
I will probably give you an answer.

Now you know my secret. maybe I never hid to well, maybe you figured out a long time ago. I don't know, and I don't care.
I just want you to know this started way before I met you. And it's not your fault, at all. and I just fainted once, and I will not die.
And I'm not sick. You know I'm not.

I keep asking myself one question though. How the hell can you love this?
how can you love what I am? what I've become?
I feel ashamed.

Maybe you want me to eat... Maybe you're worried. Don't be. I've got people to call, who knows. And they know what to do, if something bad happens.
Please don't worry about me. I've got things under control, I promise.
And please don't try force me to eat at any time, I'll let you know if I want something. don't stress about this, you just make me stressed, then I'll start... yeah, stress.
it will just make things worse.
Don't be afraid to eat in front of me. Mostly I don't feel the hunger and you're not exactly making me jealous.
"and please don't try this at home",
I beg you... please, please, please.
don't think about doing this yourself.
I will never think about food in a normal way ever again.
this can be hell, it has been hell, it will be hell again.
you don't want to go trough this.
If you want to do something for me,
then don't starve yourself.
please...

I love you, I still do. this haven't changed any of my feelings for you.
I mean every word I wrote about you, and I hope I have the guts to tell you face to face once, how much you mean to me.
I hope you don't think about me with the same shame as I think about myself because of this.
I love you, don't forget that.

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because there is no one in this world like Emily,

There will be an answer, let it be.

my teeth will rotten, I don't care.
my hair will fall off, I don't care.
If I throw up, I don't care.

Congratulations, I just managed to create a world callousity.

You'll reach trough to me, as the only.
And I'll throw your words up with the rest of the food,
if you try stop me.

nothings wrong.
I'm fine. its just another day.

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need to get something out, dunno what.

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Drank yestarday. I can't remember that much,
but jeah...feel like an idiot. Feel really bad now.
Feel insecure.
He talked a lot to a blond girl. I know her, she is a good friend of mine. But I really don't want her to know that much about me.
I'm not afraid he'll do anything to her. And I trust the blond girl. I do.
I just.. don't want him to tell her about me.
I know he does, she told me again.
(I wonder when he'll learn that I find out of things, anyway)
And he tells her what he should be saying to me, well, I feel that way.
He asked her what to do with me, that he was afraid to loose me. That I'm not eating.
(which btw is bullocks, I do eat, man!)
and why couldn't he tell me that? I would have felt better, and I could have given him exactly the same answer she did (because I must say, she answered pretty well).
the problem is, he does not believe me.
He does not believe anyone who tells him he is beautiful, has a good personality.
well, I don't either. thats our fucking main problem.
But at least I've decided to give this a try. Me and him.
and he can talk as much as he like to that blond girl. As long as he feels fine.
He can fuck her. I do care, but as long as he feels fine. I'm in for it.

I've decided to try with him, to not fuck things up like I used to because I rather feel good with him now, and get hurt later... then live in misary for a pretty long time, without him. Involving puts you in a good situation to get hurt... I know. I just, don't want to think about it...
I know all things he tried to before, always ended up shitty. (a friend of him told me that, yeah man, PEOPLE TALK!).
and I can't promise him I won't hurt him anymore.
actually, when I think about him, I can't promise that this won't end up shitty either.
But I promise that I love only him, and I won't do anything to anyone else.
I promise if he tells me that my actions hurt him, I would change them.
I promise that I'll be there for him, if he tells me.
But he don't.
And I can't read his mind, as he can't read mine.
he have to tell me. I rather get hurt of what he is saying..
I just want him to say something.

Yeah, the walls. He is sleeping in the guest bed.
I am tired, I just can't sleep.
So I'm drinking yestardays booze. hurray!
I just can't lie still. This is my house. I've lived here for all I can remember. And I remember. a lot.
This is the place my mum left, I were afraid to come home to for several reason, which bitch did my dad take home this night, is he crying, did he take suicide, will he hit me, and so on.
This house is personal. And when I'm inside this house, I mostly don't feel. (and why? because this is the house of hurt, this is the house of pain and deciving).
I could lie next to him and watch him sleep, I like that. He is beautiful,
but I don't feel.
I love him, I hope he knows.
I'm not there because of other reasons.

In the exact same room, my brother locked himself in the christmas of 1999, parents divorced but trying to celebrate christmas together. He cried and hit the walls.
That was the last I saw of his feelings.
Maybe they are there still.
Maybe he just lost them there. Maybe I can find his heart.
Would I give it back to him?
No.
I would save it someplace safe, and treat it well. A bleeding heart deserves that.
My brother are fine now,
without his heart.
And I want him to stay that way. Fine.

I want him to touch me, so I can feel nice looking.
Haha. I'm drunk on a sunday morning.
I love him. I cry, and I love him so fucking much.

(this thing is helping me, writing helps me..)

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So I did not binge on friday, thank god. Wel maybe I did.. I ate a lot. but i just purged it all up again. thank god. and it worked. I hate purke, I just keep thinking about it and stuff. but if you fucking eat to much,..

Maybe, I'll let you thing whatever you think. care.
At least, when one day is finished I can lay down and relax, still in control, on my way to something better. When everything's fucked I still have this one thing in control. this one thing where its clearly up to me.

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So I did not binge on friday, thank god. Wel maybe I did.. I ate a lot. but i just purged it all up again. thank god. and it worked. I hate purke, I just keep thinking about it and stuff. but if you fucking eat to much,..

Maybe, I'll let you thing whatever you think. care.
At least, when one day is finished I can lay down and relax, still in control, on my way to something better. When everything's fucked I still have thsi one think in contro. this one think wgere its clearly up to me.

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So I did not binge on friday, thank god. Wel maybe I did.. I ate a lot. but i just purged it all up again. thank god. and it worked. I hate purke, I just keep thinking about it and stuff. but if you fucking eat to much,..

Maybe, I'll let you thing whatever you think. care.
At least, when one day is finished I can lay down and relax, still in control, on my way to something better. When everything's fucked I still have thsi one think in contro. this one think wgere its clearly up to me.

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Just a little bread today. Are going to jog again, tonight.
looking forward to it. Need it now.
Its snow outside, that could be a problem.

Feeling actually great, but counting the days to a certain breakdown.
Afraid to sleep, maybe I'll turn rotten.
And ugly and stupid, or to face a day I can't handle

I'm afriad he'll ask why. Why, fucking why all the fucking time.
Why?
1. it stops me from eating too much.
2. I don't think.
3. I really get an incredible fantacy.
4. If I can't control other things, this is something I can. It gives me power.
5. it feels great have that self dicipline.
6. I'm GONNA LOOK GREAT.

that's just some.

I feel for a cigarett,
but he is sleeping on them.
that sucks.

he looks so peaceful there.
eyes closed.
"I know why people kill the one they love.
thats the only way to obsess another person".
I wish he could stay that way forever.
peaceful. safe.

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Now, things are a bit harder.
I've eaten too much today,
and I'm not aloud to go outside to jog. Maybe because of the weather. or maybe because my trousers I used to wear two years ago ACTUALLY FIT!
I'm so happy! but anyway, my father will go to bed soon. Then I'm off, to the rain. Going to jog! can't wait.

last week I ate almost nothing, and as I returned from an hour traning, i fainted. I got really scared... but I really don't care. it means I'm exhausted. It means I burn chalories. without even noticing. how great can things be?

for now, I've got somethings I don't want to think about. Or write about at any cause.
thats why I'm eating, eventhough I'm full.
when you do that, you create a emotinal wall. You can't feel how sick you are of food, you canæt feel how sick you are of yourself.
But I know one thing that also work; joggin, starving and training.
then you can't focus. you fuck that you're exhausted. you fuck the fainting.
you give a total fuck in everything.

well, tomorrow I'm home alone. I've planned to eat a half slice of bread.
maybe I'll take three pills.
tomorrow is gonna be a good day. e really great day.

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I don't think about him. Its the best way. I can't feel, that gets in my way for my goals.

Its sunday. I wake up quite sober from two days with drinking and much fun.
It's been a very good weekend. I had a lot of fun with my nearest friends and stuff.
Most off all, some of the guys are going to military, and we had a visiter who is very very nice. We sang singstar and I taped when tey all were dancing. I was too afraid, but fuck. don't care.

The pills, yeah.
I'm so fucking happy. A friend of mine told me about some pills, energy pills. Its not like dope or anything, its natural pills made from some kind of healthy plants. I don't care. She says they really help and are really good.
Tomorrow I'm gonna take my first. I can't wait!
the description says "you should not take this pills in favor for food".
care. care. care.
One of my biggest issues with not eating very much, is because I get so tired and sleep all the time. I have things to do, and that basicly means I have to be kind of ready to anything at anytime.
If I get the super effect I wish for, I can start jogging again, and to my old diet wich works like hell. and concentrate more in classes, stay up later at fridays and don't sleep. Get more out of my practises and not least, walk up the stairs at school without thinking I fucking day if I take one more step.
God, I can't fucking wait!
the only "problem" is that they don't start working after two hours you've taken them.
But I can live with the two hours.
Its worth it.

A hard week is up coming, got tests everyday at school. And I'm going to my therapeaut, which can be hard. Especially now, as I refuse to face ... things.
I don't want to tell, because that often leads to admitting to myself I have a problem.
well, its not a fucking problem if you don't let it be one.
as I wrote before, its not true and its not real.

and why can't I live like this?
I feel immortal. I feel powerful, strong.
so, if I have to fake a smile or two til the ones I care about.
I love them still, just they can't reach my heart. Then also, I can't get hurt.
"If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad", right?

My dad's beeing an asshole again. He can be, I just need his money.
I just "jogg it over".
full speed. I feel so free now.
I'm filled with hope.
and I can't wait to start those pills!

they are just lying there in my wardrobe...
telling me about a better life

smile with me.

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Haven't cried in a while now. Maybe I miss it. Many times I wish I just could crawl up in my bed or the sofa and just cry my eyes out. But I guess I'm not at that level now. I dare to think. Or, I can focus on my thinking. Not good mostly.
Beeing very nervous around anything and a single thing like going to the nearest store can freak me out. I had a few panic attacs a few days ago.
Just screaming and shouting. Braking things. Almost lost my voice. Don't care.
And going off to my old routine. Yelling to other people.
The anxity are clever. As I first take everything personally, everything he says I wist to he don't love me or he fuck everyone else but me. So I feel hurt. Then I tell myself that I can manage without him. That I don't need him. That I don't deserve him. I'm too ugly, fat... and so fucking on. sometimes all I want to do is hurt him. To own him in words. Crash him. I've sais a few comments, not much. but still.
New years eve was one of the bad days. But already there I can say I did things more right. I did not drink all that much and tried to stay... friendly to people. at least pretending I was happy.
He was very drunk and a few minutes before twelve he was talking on his cell to that fucking unstabile sex addicted pretty girl. I did not like that. Byt did not say anything. right before the clock striked twelwe he just stood before me and kissed me.
He also understood a little I think. I was in this huge discussion and started to get rude. really stupid actually. he told me to shut the fuck up. I just got more provoked, but he insisted. the only one who dares to do that to me. stand up to me when I am in that mood. I thank him for that. I need at some point to realize... that I just have to shut the fuck up. I think I'm right but see later that its stupid. then I feel stupid. and we're on again.

well. I've done some school work the past days and some political work. Not freaking out, yet.
Trying to stay in control of my eating and starving. Not obsessing.
Reading a book, or, just finished it. Its called Naiv. Super. and written by erlend loe. Its about a guy who just got a breakdown, and he tells about how he manage life at that time and in some sort of way he get his feet back on the ground.
I learned two things;
1. Everything has a shape. Its up to you to fill it.
Like, my life has a shape. A structure. I have things to do.
I have to fill this shell with things I like. Fill it with a way I can manage. Handle.
So for now, I put my starving on wait. but just for now. I promise. If I stress about it now, I'm afraid I just fill my life with negatives. If it gets too mucj, I binge with everything.
2. Everyone are the best of something.
When I try to do things, or tell people of my "obsessions". have to do this, and that. An have to improve my own acktions, I always get stuck at this one thing they tell me. "you can't be the best at everything". Actually I think that is bullocks. I can be the best. If I want to be the best. But for now. Just for now, I say... I settle with best at somethings.

I just have to get my feet back on the ground, get control of my feelings. Get over this shit, then I'll start work as I used to. I need to be thinner, I need to get on social with everyone. even the stupid ones. And I have to get the best grades. Do a little bit better at the training. Then I'll be satisfied. Not now.
So I'll just aking it calm.

Tomorrow, school starts again. The first to hours is gym. Fuck. I'm nervous. I want to buz of and never leave my bed again. But I'll try. I don't know why. I just have to.

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I've been to shitt in my life, and I was born with social anxitey.
mix it up and I have a big fear of getting involved with anything cocktail.
In action I cut myself to feel a distance. I lie just to know that I'm still free enough to hurt somebody. still free to give a shitt if they leave.
I've cheated in all my serious relationships with boys. and when I get hurt, I starve myself or eat much. Go antisocial and read much. Trying to gain some points in my head with getting higher grades. also, I know I can manage life alone. that I don't need anyone.
If I have a bad day, and everything gets to my heart. every word, I can twist it to be against me. I can be really touchy and then I bite back. I can yell at people in several hours just to take control over my own fear. to convince myself that I am, I am living. that I'm not unsecure. But I am. Everyday. every fucking day.
and its a bad circle which never ends. it gets worse. Now, that I got like this person to talk to, its even harder. and I actually wonder if its worth it. I see things in new perspectives, and see trough my actions and find out the reason why.
The worst part is to work against it.
it tears me up.

He gives me a reason to keep it going. to belive. at the end of the week, I always end up sleeping over with him, like I've already described. it makes me complete. It makes it worth. all the suffering. its worth.
He teach me how to live. to be right now. and he makes it alright to forget about all the charges, all the musts. with him I don't feel like scoring high all the time.
because he don't range people after what the achive, but as who they are. to him .
It helps me, it really helps me.

he leaves tonight.
We've already said goodbye.

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I'm at his house. silent. we're drinking. I'm fine. still his gonna leabe in two days.
fuck.
no.
"its not true and it does not hurt".

waking up to a rush of traditions. i've been good. haven't cried. and have smiled to the people around me.
still it brakes me.
it brakes and brakes and brakes.
and my english is bad, when I'm drunk.

fuck.fuck.fuck.

ITS NOT REAL AND IT DOES NOT HURT!!!!!

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Yestarday I was at work. It was okay, I did not believe I could manage it. But I had a little booze, so whenever I felt like crying and give up, I took a sip.
It feels like the men in who works around me finaly think of me like one of them. Everybody said hi and wished me a merry christmas. Maybe just because it is chirstmas, or mybe because of the media attention we got this half year.
Luckily I did a lot of work.. maybe I just have to work one more day this christmas.
We ate a big christams lunch that day, it was a bit odd. I know some of the people who works at the storage, and I know the boarderfirectors. I think the whole idea of that lunch were for people to mingle between the social levels in the firm, but its like a hidden line or tons of unwritten rules which seperate all of them.
I'm glad I don't work there very much. I can mingle, because I'm not seated.
I'm the boss's daughter and the slut who fucked the satanist at storage 3.
I guess they don't even have a place for that in the firm heritage.

Later that day I actually were outside the whole day. He is at home now.
I really tried to make it a good day, but you know..
It didn't work out good. He had to leave around ten, and we didn't get our stash before 9ish.
It sucked.
I was looking forward to take the bus homw with him, but I was feeling so god damn bad so I only were on it for a few stops. I walked the rest of the way home.
It was wonderful. The lights of the cars and the streetlights were blinding me and I did not have any place to sit down. But it was okay. I saw things, I even saw the devil or soemthing bad. But it was okay. I was safe.
He sent me a message to ask if I were okay the same night.
I just told him I had a bad week. I don't want to tell him how down I actually am.
That I've almost given up. that I am afraid.
more than ever.

The crying is on again.
I don't know what to do. its christmas. I don't want to feel like this tomorrow, and I don't think I hade enough energy to fake it.
It will ruin things.
I hate christmas, especially when it is whit mums.
They always get too drunk, and my grandparents kind of switch roles. From good educated helping and trustable people, to sassy, derisive people.
It makes me cry on normal days. God, its really gonna kill me.
I think... I cry too much.

I want him to take me out. Just... a safe place. Just hold my hand when we talk with people I dont know that much.
I want attention. I want him to care. I want to tell people around me other than "nah, I'm just tired, did not get much sleep yestarday".
Its a lie. but what am I to say.
there isn't much, I can't describe.

well, marry christmas to everyone.

- elsk.

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I did not have the two first classes today. We had gym. I have a special problem with gym as it is, because of my social anxity. When I feel bad, I can't manage it.
So I went sleeping in the library. I think I snorred. don't care that much about it.
I finaly sleep now. Still not getting new energy. I'm fed up with this. But I don't dare hope for anyting else.

I'm waiting for a friend to call me. We're supposed to take a walk. I have some extra calories to burn, and I don't want to sit in this sofa anymore.
I love my friend. With her I don't feel any anxity, and I'm really myself with her, the way I want to be. I do not fear speaking up and tell her my exact opinions and I'm not afraid to.. I don't know. I tell her the truth. Always. I would not mind lying to her, I don't feel like I have to either.

Today, I just managed to get myself through school again, then I went home. The crying is on again, but I fell asleep pretty soon. The headche is not getting better, and everytime I try to think, or find myself thinking, I get sick. I am sick, feeling ill.
My mum are afraid I can't sleep because I have to share room with my sister. Because my brother is home for christmas, he has the extra room in this house.
But its not that. And this makes the distance between us bigger. She can't see my black hole, this hopelessness, this thing I'm affected of right now. I'm not afraid to sleep in the same room as my sister. I'm too frightened to close my eyes, I just start thinking. then.. I don't know. My head starts twisting.
and I'm full of energy.

got to go now,

-elsk.

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It startet off yestarday.
A monday. Everybody hates mondays and I thought it just were a bad day.
its a long day at school, we're not off untill three o'clock, then have traing at four.
I've got home and were about to change clothes, then I startet to cry. I cried for an hour.
My sister came home and took me out for a cigarette. Tried to tell me I just had to take the day off. Just needed some time. That I just were exhausted, not much of a suprise actually. It has been a couple of tough weeks.
My mum, when she got home too, she said the same. I can't explain it to them.
The words don't come out and again, I'm too tired to look for them.
I guess they just don't see the black hole, like I do.
They don't see...
I don't know what it is.

I've managed another day at school, and I've finaly stopped crying now.
But I don't feel much better. still, I managed to get my ass out for an hour to jog.
It used to help before, but not now (well ofcourse not, when you really need things, they are not there).
I've been sitting in this god damn sofa for hours. Doing nothing but reading and that sort of stuff.
and I found myself some sunglasses. It really helps when I get out of this house.
I feel much more, anonymus.

I'm going to my psychologist tomorrow. We'll see how that turn out.

its just. I don't know. Meaningless. tomorrow is nothing but hardship. I wish I could lay in bed all day, I wish this could stop.
I wish he could come see me, still not. I've always told him about how I want to reach my golds, how I am never giving up. How hard I want to beat this. But I can't. I've failed. I don't want him to know how weak I am right now.
I wish he just be here, holding my hand. just watch me. Then maybe I could get some sleep. If I just knew he were there.
around my house. I wish I could relax. there is always someone here. I feel, uptight. I need a brake. From myself. My own mind. from everyone.
But you can't... you know. leave your own body. If you like it or not, you're stuck with yourself for the rest of your life. Every fucking action. every fucking thing you do. You never get away. ever.
I wish he were here.
I wish he could answer me.

I'm afraid to sleep. I don't want tomorrow to start. I don't want to lie there, the first five minutes, or thirty or whatever minutes till I finally reach my dreams.
I can't take it. I can't think. I can't do anything.
I am nothing. I am just a freaking zombie wandering. I hate it, but don't have the energy to do something about it.
My mum is still awake. she wants to sleep now, but don't want to live me. I look terrible. black circles around my eyes, I look tired. Would not be suprised if I got some grey hair to.

I know that at some point, I have to start climbing out of this black supermassive hole. I can't stay like this, whatever it is, forever.
In a way I feel safe. Under the surface you know, away from things. Still its so real.
You know, sometimes reality hits you really hard in your face. This is reality. This is life. This is what you fucking are.

I have a terrible headache. I'll try sleeping.
I just have to motivate myself to get my ass downatairs.

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There are some people in my life I want to tell this to.
My nearest and most loved ones.
I don't have the guts to tell them, and I don't think I'll ever tell them about this blog.
So instead of bother them to listen to my complaints about living,
I will get it out right here.

I'm sorry if I might provoke people who reads this,
or this blog will lead to negative feelings.
Tell me, and I'll just stop writing,
but this is still important for me to do,
so remember you don't actually have to read this.

Thanks,
- Elsk

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