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I'm a girl at 15 from Norway. This blog's just for complaining to the world and write about my life. Just so you know. Yeah, and I got some words of wisdom once and a while which may interest you. Enjoy!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Back On Track

So, I'm opening myself up to my friends. A little more for each time I see them. I think I should link this page to a friend. You know what? I actually intentionally let a friend of mine read this shit I'm posting. I'm gonna do it again – let myself out to people. Wanting people to know me. And I think this place is the closest to be me. Just a sec, I'll let her know.

Okey, that's the longest Facebook message I've ever sent... Yeah, I def have a life. Not.

What I was going to write, causing the title, is this: I think I'm on my way back. Back to where I was in late 9th and early 10th grade. Which is back on track. The track that made me depressed and just bad. 2009 was the year of hell for me, and I really don't want to end up on the same path that I walked that year. Man, I need to talk to somebody.

I bet I've already told you (not that I actually remember what I've written here) that I've decided to get my ass back into a therapist's chair again. Still, I don't like the thought that it's not the same person I saw for half a year. Will I have to start everything all over again? Can he read what the other psychologist wrote about me? Will the new therapist suck?

Why the fuck did you have to quit? Bitch. No seriously, I needed you. Maybe I don't need you now, but I still need somebody. Fuck. It sucks "losing" the person you told everything to. Or at least it does when we didn't get the chance to finish.

I wish you could've seen me succeed. Becoming as close as possible to normal. Because we had something going, we really did. Maybe we could've "figured it out", and both could see the whole thing as a victory. You could look at it as a succeeded case, and I could tell myself and everyone that I'm not crazy. No, I would've given you that victory of making me happy again.

You made me happier and better, that's for sure. But the happiness went away, and I bet you I'll end up on the bad path again pretty soon. We'll see. I'll see. Honestly I think you think that I would need more help. That I wasn't really done. But we had to end. We both hope that I'll just get the courage to try once more. Do you have faith in me?

No seriously, I love how the psychologist and I had our own little psychoanalyzing thing between us. "I think you think", "you think I think" and "I think you think I think"'s. Poor guy... No, we both learned something, I bet you.

Now I just need the courage...

Thursday, June 17, 2010

To A Broken Heart


You know what? I'm sorry we had to end like this. To be honest, I never thought we would. At least not like this. You're worth so much more. I'm worth so much more. We're both. We deserve better.

No, I don't really understand why you're so mad at me. I can imagine some of it, but far from everything. Right now I'm angry. At you, at the world, but mostly at myself. We deserve better.

Why did the contact stop? I separated more and more from you. I found it hard to feel "home". Maybe we weren't as close as I'd wished for. Maybe I was just too much. Because I can be, I know that. We both can be. But we still deserve better.

I know you didn't like it when I told you my therapist was quitting. He agreed with you, it wasn't a good time to quit. There's probably no right time to quit. But that was the situation. I got better, you know? I got over the suicide period, and I'm feeling better now. Still, I think I'll try to start therapy once again after the summer break. Just to get through with it. Because I try. We deserve better.

You helped me through so much, it's actually hard to believe it all. You were there for me, even though I acted like an ass. I had it like hell, but you were still by my side. For some reason. Because I know it must've been hard for you, experiencing all this. You've said that you're a very strong person, time after time. I know that, and I know it's true. But some things are still hard. We both deserve better.

I'm sorry for all the pain I've given you. To be honest, I don't know how much I've been a pain for you. But I'm sorry for whatever. I've been through hell, and I dragged you along in the side wagon of the motorcycle (whatever that means). I apologize for that. And I wish it never happened. We deserve better.

Right now I'm listening to Muse. Old songs, new songs. All to take away the pain and anger. Pain because I've found it really hard to lose you. Anger because I regret. I'm angry at you too, but, when it comes to it, it's just the anger I have for myself. We deserve better.

No, you can never redo anything, no matter who you are. But dreams and hope don't care whether there's rules or not. I want to make up with you, because I can't redo reality. You're a really good friend, and no matter what happens in the future, I'll always remember you. We deserve better.

For the backup on accepting myself, for the help when trying to talk to my teacher, for you outing me and explaining the problem to the school nurse, for the walk you had with me right before my first session with the psychologist. For the support on coming to terms with myself, for the great laughs, for the fantastic (but still disturbing (in a good way)) discussions, for the hugs, and for you being yourself. Thank you for being such a friend. I've been a nightmare, but that was when you stood by my side. I'm still a nightmare sometimes, but now we are separate. We deserve better.

You have a special place in my heart for all the things you've done for me. I owe you big, probably everything. You've kept me alive, and I thank you for that. Whatever happens later: Thank you.

Love, Sunniva.

Monday, June 14, 2010


OK. Maybe I'm not fully OK yet. I'm not quite sure if I care right now. No, at the moment I don't care.

Maybe I should talk to my mother? Ask her if she'll send me to a psychologist. Because there is something wrong, and I have no idea what it is.

Fuck the world. I went to a psychologist for a freaking half a year! That's quite some time. Shouldn't it go away then? Shouldn't I feel perfectly fine now? Why am I not happy?

Maybe I'm chasing perfection, even though the world is imperfect. Am I supposed to feel this way? Please, I beg you, go away. I don't want this to happen once more.

Is this really a major deja vĂș? Is this exactly how I was last summer? If it is, then fuck it. I want to have a life. I want to be happy. I want to be normal.

Why am I doing this to myself? Why is my body doing this? Why is my mind screwing everything up?



I think this is the first time I've ever written the title before the rest of the post... "Empty." Because that's exactly how I feel at the moment. Empty.

Today I've been making protecting skins for my Mac (aka Baby). I've been sowing all day. All freaking day, except from when I was at school for 4 hours. What a life I have. This post is meaningless right now.

Back to the emptiness. Somewhere into the sowing, I started watching the 'In Treatment' episodes I've downloaded. From season one, about Sophie. Gorgeous girl. I'm learning stuff when watching 'In Treatment'. Psychology stuff. Things about myself, and things about others. When can you say you've been sexually abused?

I'm so empty right now. Like I'm nothing. Or everything. I'm perfect. Or a big fail. Am I me? Is this me, the real me?

I love music. Right now I hate my creativity. But it is like the creativity is lost. And without creativity, I'm nothing. Nothing.


Fail or Perfection
Photo: Perfect/Fail
Properties: HMSunnyMH

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I Can't Breathe

Right now I'm hyperventilating. Because I'm scared. Which makes me hyperventilate even more. Fuck dogs.

That's right, I was scared by a dog. You know what? I'm freakin' scared of everything. And I hate it. I can breathe now.

Animals scare me in general. Whenever I'm at my great grandma's, there's this cat wandering around. And at a sudden, in the middle of the dinner, I feel something smoothly swipe my left leg. Slowly... And there you have me, terrified. Dogs are even worse. I scream loud, and don't know where the hell I'm supposed to put myself. Yes, I'm afraid of heights. But animals are different. They're not scary, they're deathly frightening. So I start crying.

Through the past year or so I've been "developing" my asthma. It's getting real bad nowadays, and I've started on regular medication. Mainly because I'm coughing like I've got lung cancer, but my doc thinks it's asthma (I don't disagree at all) causing it. So now I have to inhale weird powder that might give me fungus in my throat (!) if I use it wrong. Welcome to my life.

What is bad with asthma, is that whenever I'm scared, or just working out, I start hyperventilating. I need loads of oxygen, but my lungs find that hard to do. For some fucking reason. And I can't breathe. Then I get even more scared. Fucko, fucko, fucko. Yeah, today I feel sorry for myself.

What am I really scared of? I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Myself. Or those around. I try to live a "normal" life, but I just feel weird. Maybe my friends don't like that I'm gay? Do they have a problem with it? It's weird, isn't it, that a girl wants to be friends with other girls that are straight? Maybe she likes me? Maybe she wants to turn me straight?

Yeah, I think I'll try starting to talk with somebody again after the summer holidays. I'm sad. For no reason. Sounds familiar, Sunny? Kind of, yes... Fuck. This ain't fanfabulous. This is life. And it sucks. I need to talk to somebody.

This post's been containing too many swears. That's probably not good. I thought everything was OK. Fuck. My father's cutting the grass. Again. I hate allergies. I hate medicine. I hate it. Ex-psychologist: This was my fifteen minutes of sadness for today.

Monday, June 7, 2010


And I'm down the road again... But I was outside skinny dipping today. Yeah, that was totally out of context. *Gathering thoughts* OK, let's look at this. I promised the psychologist to if I ever felt bad. And I keep my promises. As far as possible, tho.

Lots have been happening lately. I've had my final exams for Lower Secondary, if there's anything like that. Grade 8-10 (7-9 within British/American standards). It's been pressuring, but not bad at all. I actually ended up with an A+ on my oral exam (in Religions). The written one I won't know about until graduation day, June 17th. We'll see. But it sure has been busy, without that much time to "figure out life" and stuff. That might've been positive, to just put everything away for a couple of days, but I don't think it really works...

Naval - Yann Tiersen

I think I'm hitting the lows again. I'm really not as happy as I was just a month ago. Maybe I'm just tired. Tired of school, tired of friends, tired of people, tired of fitting in. Tired of everything. I think I'm going to watch a movie. A comedy. Something really funny. Because right now I need it. I don't give a damn that it's 11pm.

Yeah, that's also been a concern lately. I'm sleeping lighter now. And if you know me, and have slept by my side, you know I'm a heavy sleeper. A really heavy sleeper. But at a sudden I've been sleeping worse. And I can't fall asleep. I could fall asleep at 10.30pm sometimes. Maybe even before that. But now I'm not sleepy at 11. I'm not even sleepy at 12. I might sleep at 1am. No, the sleeping is getting worse.

I'm thinking about talking to my former teacher. Yes, I had a crush on her. That's not the point. She's over 40 for God's sake! No, I want to talk with her about my crazy year of 9th grade. I was a wreck. I was horrible. I was crazy. I was questioning. I was living and trying not to live at the same time. It was a really confusing time. Why do I want to talk about it with her? Because I want to tell her that I'm not as crazy anymore. That I'm better. Because she noticed something was wrong. But she wanted me to get through it myself.

I want to apologize. She deserves an apology. Because I really am sorry. And I put her through a lot. I put myself through a lot. I might've put the world through a lot. But here I am today. She deserves an apology.

The low is hitting me. Yes, the psychologist told me somewhat what to do when I'm feeling down. I'm not feeling horrible, I'm just feeling down. I'll make it through the two months of summer vacation, and then I'll see what I do. Maybe I'm going to look up a psychologist once again to really get through this, whatever it might be. Because today I'm clueless. As clueless music sometimes can be. Or, as clueless us humans can be when listening to music.

Yes, I think I'll try to get to talk with somebody again after the holidays. It's just to find the reason to talk with somebody. I tend to feel the need of a reason.

I'm crying now. I don't know why. But I'm crying. I'm an artist – a creative soul. It's beautiful, but It's a torture at the same time. I hate crying. I never cried at the psychologist. Almost six months, and no tears. I want it that way. I can't be vulnerable. I must stay true, stay strong. Stay me. And me does not involve crying. At least not around other people. These thoughts makes me cry. I've been using the verb 'to cry' far too many times in this section...

They say that you shall live like there's no tomorrow. Is there any tomorrow? When will I know tomorrow?