I know you people don't see me often, but whatever. I got a life. Impressed? So yeah. I'm sorry, I don't want to be mad at you. I just want to be mad at someone. Do you know who's stupid? My father. He's kinda a dickhead. And as I'm way too gay, I'm allergic to dickheads. Is me+father=good then true? Didn't think so either.
Sometimes my father just gets on my nerve. He can be so arrogant, and I bet he believes he's just the good the world needs. Mind you, I know how stupid this sounds like. Everybody hates their parents sometimes. But when you go angry to bed for the fourth time this week, there's something wrong. It can't be right at least. He does deserve my harsh words to come.
OK, what is really wrong with him? Well, he believes he's this superb environmentally friendly person. Which he's not. The only reason he can find for actually dividing the trash into paper, plastic, food and waste is because of his wife, who for some reason actually cares. Maybe she just wants to be a "good" person. But whatever. My stepmother is cool enough, at least sometimes. She's not worth caring that much about, at least not right now. Anyways, why does my father even try to care about the environment? Except that his wife might think he's more sexy while throwing the paper into the paper basket, he's got no reason. Maybe he wants to please me? Nope. Not everything is about me, you know.
Another thing that makes my father stupid, is how he interacts with his (step-)children. He wants to be oh so good, say positive things to them and be nice. He sounds so fake. Believe me, he won't exactly win an Oscar in the nearest future. Not even Juilliard could make him good. He's untruthful, and don't even care whether he says something that makes sense or not. It's just... wrong. Sorry.
What I wish the most that my father would do better, is to not pick the wrong fights. He can talk half an hour with my little brother because he (understandably enough) doesn't wish to kill himself in the form of school. My little brother is amazing, I tell you that. But of course he shouldn't do nothing but school when he's only in 8th grade! He is 13 for God's sake! But my father still doesn't think my brother is doing good enough. He is. He doesn't even know it himself, but he sure is.
When a parent is arguing about a chocolate or a school assignment, instead of caring about what really is the matter, that is a problem. That's what my father does. It just makes him look stupid. Even I believe he's stupid now.
My father makes me hate him. It's not my fault. And I hate my "blood connection" to him. Even though he's my biological father, doesn't mean that he acts like a father should. And while I've got way too much to do, and can't be home to take care of my brother so much, I feel scared. Scared for what my baby brother fears, what makes him sad in life. I know that he also has a problem with dad, in some way or another. If I could only be around him as much as I wish, and look after him. My brother is my love. All I fear is him not being OK.
Maybe I'm scared of my father. Or maybe I just hate him. One or the other. I want to tell him I'm gay. But he doesn't deserve it. He really doesn't deserve it, at all. He's just stupid. Fuck him.
Do I need to talk to somebody again?
Showing posts with label future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label future. Show all posts
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Teardrops falling on my head
Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do
http://xxxsimone.tumblr.com/
Right now I'm listening to Morning Bell/Amnesiac by Radiohead. There's this... Wooden drum, or maybe a bass guitar. In the far background. It sounds like heartbeat. If my heart would beat that ordinary, I would be amazed.
I carry a lot of shit. A lot of baggage. For some reason. There is a reason, of course. But it's a curse, so don't tell anyone. I still try to cry sometimes. It isn't very efficient, I can trust you. Maybe I'm only able to cry when there's somebody around? Actually, I can fake to cry. But I can't gather my mind and lose a tear or two.
I. Am. Happy. Did you know that? Fuck, now it seems as if I believe everybody reading this is stupidity himself. I'm sorry. But I am happy. At least when the world is somewhat good. I think I like being happy. It's somewhat comforting. But who cares for me now? I can't seek attention by being happy all the time. Or, I can get attention, but... You don't get that feeling when others feel sorry for you. I'm not even sure if I like that feeling. But I kinda miss being depressed. Bad sign?
Oh, what crap I've been writing down for the past two years. Scenario after scenario... Which none of then ever happened. Maybe for the good, though.
I'm messaging with this girl. She's really cool! And we actually have things in common (you didn't see that one coming, did you?). It feels good to have that. I think I'll call it friendship. You don't have to physically meet a person to be friends, right? No. She's a good person.
Every day is a day, no matter what. No matter what. I want to write a movie script.
That keep my mind away from you
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do
http://xxxsimone.tumblr.com/
Right now I'm listening to Morning Bell/Amnesiac by Radiohead. There's this... Wooden drum, or maybe a bass guitar. In the far background. It sounds like heartbeat. If my heart would beat that ordinary, I would be amazed.
I carry a lot of shit. A lot of baggage. For some reason. There is a reason, of course. But it's a curse, so don't tell anyone. I still try to cry sometimes. It isn't very efficient, I can trust you. Maybe I'm only able to cry when there's somebody around? Actually, I can fake to cry. But I can't gather my mind and lose a tear or two.
I. Am. Happy. Did you know that? Fuck, now it seems as if I believe everybody reading this is stupidity himself. I'm sorry. But I am happy. At least when the world is somewhat good. I think I like being happy. It's somewhat comforting. But who cares for me now? I can't seek attention by being happy all the time. Or, I can get attention, but... You don't get that feeling when others feel sorry for you. I'm not even sure if I like that feeling. But I kinda miss being depressed. Bad sign?
Oh, what crap I've been writing down for the past two years. Scenario after scenario... Which none of then ever happened. Maybe for the good, though.
I'm messaging with this girl. She's really cool! And we actually have things in common (you didn't see that one coming, did you?). It feels good to have that. I think I'll call it friendship. You don't have to physically meet a person to be friends, right? No. She's a good person.
Every day is a day, no matter what. No matter what. I want to write a movie script.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Feeling Close To Nothing
Hi y'all. How you doin'? Oh, I'm fine, thank you. Smileyface.
A new chapter of my life started three weeks ago. I started at a new school, with completely different people. My real life started. My true life.
I'm really, really happy. Because that school is like magic. I think that if I didn't attend exactly this school, I'd be really depressed right now. Really. But every day these new 25 people in my class make me smile. I just have to. Because they're worth it.
Still, the happiness isn't real. Because every day I think that there's something wrong, something that shouldn't be. For some reason. First day of school I asked my new teacher where to go to be assigned to a psychologist. The first day. The first day of the new life. The new beginning. But I think I couldn't have done otherwise. That would've been stupid.
I feel there's something missing. Because when I think really, really hard on what my life contains while on the train at 7.15 in the morning, I can't find the positive. Or, I can find the positive, but I can't find the positive life. It hurts, I can assure you. Maybe it's just how it's supposed to be.
Is this how I was thinking and acting before? Because I sometimes feel this great deja vú. It might not be the case, maybe this is just how I'm supposed to be, but maybe it isn't. And that's why I wanted help. I don't want my new life to start with sorrow and negativity. I think I was brave, though.
The answers I find don't seem reasonable. Because I have no idea what is happening anymore. Maybe that is a sign from my brain to seek help. At least I managed to do so. I follow my heart. At least sometimes. I hope it is worth it.
I might be in love. Because she is really cute, pretty and lovely. She's actually kinda perfect, even though I realize she ain't. But I really like her. Did you know I've never had a boy- or girlfriend? Like, a romantic relationship. That's what it's called. And I'm a virgin, and I haven't ever been drinking. For me that is courage and truthfulness.
Did you know that if you take the first sentence in all the sections above (except the first one of course) make out a poem?
A new chapter of my life...
Started three weeks ago
I'm really,
Really happy
Still,
The happiness isn't real
I feel there's
Something
Missing
Is this how I was thinking and acting before?
The answers I find
Don't seem reasonable
I might
Be in love
I like it. At least a little. I don't know what to do with myself. I cried today. Because I read some of what I wrote here on the blog for about half a year ago. I was totally broken. Devastated, horrified, scared.
The worst part is that I miss it. A little too much.
A new chapter of my life started three weeks ago. I started at a new school, with completely different people. My real life started. My true life.
I'm really, really happy. Because that school is like magic. I think that if I didn't attend exactly this school, I'd be really depressed right now. Really. But every day these new 25 people in my class make me smile. I just have to. Because they're worth it.
Still, the happiness isn't real. Because every day I think that there's something wrong, something that shouldn't be. For some reason. First day of school I asked my new teacher where to go to be assigned to a psychologist. The first day. The first day of the new life. The new beginning. But I think I couldn't have done otherwise. That would've been stupid.
I feel there's something missing. Because when I think really, really hard on what my life contains while on the train at 7.15 in the morning, I can't find the positive. Or, I can find the positive, but I can't find the positive life. It hurts, I can assure you. Maybe it's just how it's supposed to be.
Is this how I was thinking and acting before? Because I sometimes feel this great deja vú. It might not be the case, maybe this is just how I'm supposed to be, but maybe it isn't. And that's why I wanted help. I don't want my new life to start with sorrow and negativity. I think I was brave, though.
The answers I find don't seem reasonable. Because I have no idea what is happening anymore. Maybe that is a sign from my brain to seek help. At least I managed to do so. I follow my heart. At least sometimes. I hope it is worth it.
I might be in love. Because she is really cute, pretty and lovely. She's actually kinda perfect, even though I realize she ain't. But I really like her. Did you know I've never had a boy- or girlfriend? Like, a romantic relationship. That's what it's called. And I'm a virgin, and I haven't ever been drinking. For me that is courage and truthfulness.
Did you know that if you take the first sentence in all the sections above (except the first one of course) make out a poem?
A new chapter of my life...
Started three weeks ago
I'm really,
Really happy
Still,
The happiness isn't real
I feel there's
Something
Missing
Is this how I was thinking and acting before?
The answers I find
Don't seem reasonable
I might
Be in love
I like it. At least a little. I don't know what to do with myself. I cried today. Because I read some of what I wrote here on the blog for about half a year ago. I was totally broken. Devastated, horrified, scared.
The worst part is that I miss it. A little too much.
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...
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...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Fuck.
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 vú? 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?
Fuck.
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 vú? 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?
Fuck.
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.
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.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Hope
Today was the second time this year I had shorts on. It was sunny outside, not so warm, but just fine. The blue skies begged for peace, the green grass stated change. It's spring.
To be honest I hate springtime. I have allergies, and this season is messing with my face as well as my head. Sometimes it's just as if everything explodes. But I survive every time, miraculously.
I'm relieved. I don't feel like a new person, but I can see that I might've changed throughout the last year or so. Someone says coming out completely changes their situation. Maybe that's so. I'm not sure for certain. The last couple of years I've been withdrawn from everything and everyone; I've been hiding. Now I've at a sudden gotten the opportunity to be me and free. Maybe I really have changed...
We all wish life was more simple sometimes. Not that that's ever going to happen... But hope is what's keeping us going. We look forward, or we're just so happy with our lives as it is. If you don't got one of those two, you haven't got much. I choose to believe that hope is what's made me going. When I look back it's really hard to understand what made me keep on as normal as possible, but somehow I made it.
Even though it's tempting to say that everything is perfectly fine now, I don't think I can do so. I know there's stuff inside me that shouldn't necessarily be there. And I've experienced how bad it can become. That's why I see it as important to not be caught on the wagon going to the "perfect" world. I can't put myself in such a vulnerable situation; It's not worth it.
With that said, I must say that I look at the world in a more positive way now than before. I think my life has gotten much better now than one year ago, and I'm very grateful for how my situation is today. The present builds up on my hope for the future. My "goal" looks more reachable now than ever before. And that's a good thing.
It's just to remember the positive when the negative wants to take control. Not exactly my specialty, but I'm working on it.
To be honest I hate springtime. I have allergies, and this season is messing with my face as well as my head. Sometimes it's just as if everything explodes. But I survive every time, miraculously.
I'm relieved. I don't feel like a new person, but I can see that I might've changed throughout the last year or so. Someone says coming out completely changes their situation. Maybe that's so. I'm not sure for certain. The last couple of years I've been withdrawn from everything and everyone; I've been hiding. Now I've at a sudden gotten the opportunity to be me and free. Maybe I really have changed...
We all wish life was more simple sometimes. Not that that's ever going to happen... But hope is what's keeping us going. We look forward, or we're just so happy with our lives as it is. If you don't got one of those two, you haven't got much. I choose to believe that hope is what's made me going. When I look back it's really hard to understand what made me keep on as normal as possible, but somehow I made it.
Even though it's tempting to say that everything is perfectly fine now, I don't think I can do so. I know there's stuff inside me that shouldn't necessarily be there. And I've experienced how bad it can become. That's why I see it as important to not be caught on the wagon going to the "perfect" world. I can't put myself in such a vulnerable situation; It's not worth it.
With that said, I must say that I look at the world in a more positive way now than before. I think my life has gotten much better now than one year ago, and I'm very grateful for how my situation is today. The present builds up on my hope for the future. My "goal" looks more reachable now than ever before. And that's a good thing.
It's just to remember the positive when the negative wants to take control. Not exactly my specialty, but I'm working on it.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Gays And The Lesbos - Organized
It's Saturday. Two days until it's Monday. Mondays are scary. You kinda never know what's gonna happen. Though, if you're not a psychic, you can't know what's to come any other days either. I can't. And you probably can't either.
This Monday to come is even more scary than usual. Because our school is going to be visited by Skeiv Ungdom, an organization for LGBTQ youth. And I know her, the person coming. Because I've met her. At an Skeiv Ungdom event. Because I'm freakin' gay, and in the closet.
I'm kind of excited, though. Because I guess it's going to be interesting to really get to know someone's history. I know a lot of histories, though. But that hasn't made it easier for me, I guess. I'm still here though - queer, halfway in denial and not exactly loving myself. But you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Or in 1 3/4 day.
Damn, she knows me! If I met her almost anywhere else than at my school, I would totally say "Hi!" to her. But this is in school. I'm not really ready to come out. And even though a lot of people know someone who's gay, I don't. That's kind of weird. And it's kind of freaking me out that I now know, and that it gets this close to me. Once it was in the city, far from all of my family and friends, and I could leave whenever I wanted. This Monday it will, for a sudden, be right in front of me, in my "real" life.
I'm glad my school get visited though. And Norway is a great country regarding that, because there's a lot of freedom here. The gays and the lesbos can get organized, and they get financial support from the state. And we learn about sexuality at school. But it's scary. I'm living a double life, one where I'm straight and all good, and one where I'm the real me. But on Monday they'll kind of meet.
Maybe I'll say "Hi!"... We'll see. I can't predict the future.
This Monday to come is even more scary than usual. Because our school is going to be visited by Skeiv Ungdom, an organization for LGBTQ youth. And I know her, the person coming. Because I've met her. At an Skeiv Ungdom event. Because I'm freakin' gay, and in the closet.
I'm kind of excited, though. Because I guess it's going to be interesting to really get to know someone's history. I know a lot of histories, though. But that hasn't made it easier for me, I guess. I'm still here though - queer, halfway in denial and not exactly loving myself. But you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Or in 1 3/4 day.
Damn, she knows me! If I met her almost anywhere else than at my school, I would totally say "Hi!" to her. But this is in school. I'm not really ready to come out. And even though a lot of people know someone who's gay, I don't. That's kind of weird. And it's kind of freaking me out that I now know, and that it gets this close to me. Once it was in the city, far from all of my family and friends, and I could leave whenever I wanted. This Monday it will, for a sudden, be right in front of me, in my "real" life.
I'm glad my school get visited though. And Norway is a great country regarding that, because there's a lot of freedom here. The gays and the lesbos can get organized, and they get financial support from the state. And we learn about sexuality at school. But it's scary. I'm living a double life, one where I'm straight and all good, and one where I'm the real me. But on Monday they'll kind of meet.
Maybe I'll say "Hi!"... We'll see. I can't predict the future.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Talking In Norwegian Thing
Would anyone please tell me why I can't say "gay", "queer" nor "lesbian" in Norwegian? I beg you, it would help me a lot.
So, can I say it's official? One year ago, around this time, I finally understood myself and my feelings. I'm gay. Or, right now, I'm having an argue with my psychologist and myself because I got problems convincing myself that I understand my feelings, but that's another story. Anyway, let's set January as the month to celebrate. Or, do you celebrate the anniversary for when you came to terms with your own sexuality? Just wondering. Now, whatever.
Now, I think I'm going to push myself onto the track I was supposed to follow when writing this. OK, let's do this.
I'm here, I'm queer. It's A; OK to be gay. 2QTBSTR8, actually. So, why the heck can't I just say it? Actually, I can. In English. But that doesn't matter, because I live in Norway, and my mother tongue is Norwegian. That's why I got to actually be able to say "I'm gay" in Norwegian. But at this time, I don't.
To be honest, I have no idea why the words won't leave my tongue. "I just can't say it," I told my psych for the 18th time today. I guess he understood, but I don't. It's just three freakin' words!
No, I have no idea. I wish it was easier. Let it slip away, and forget it. My wish. And what is most confusing to me is that I have no problem whatsoever saying "I'm gay" in English. But in Norwegian everything stops. I can't even write it! So, now neither communication methods, speaking nor writing, works to express this feeling.
It's about who I fall in love with, and who I wish I could screw. That's it. It's not much, is it? Or...? Well, maybe it is. Because it's about who I, in the future, want to share my life with. But when I can't even express myself, how the heck am I supposed to make that happen?
Shitty, shitty. I gotta get a life, and stop blogging. But I can't. It's kind of an obsession...
I'm gay - Jeg er ...
So, can I say it's official? One year ago, around this time, I finally understood myself and my feelings. I'm gay. Or, right now, I'm having an argue with my psychologist and myself because I got problems convincing myself that I understand my feelings, but that's another story. Anyway, let's set January as the month to celebrate. Or, do you celebrate the anniversary for when you came to terms with your own sexuality? Just wondering. Now, whatever.
Now, I think I'm going to push myself onto the track I was supposed to follow when writing this. OK, let's do this.
I'm here, I'm queer. It's A; OK to be gay. 2QTBSTR8, actually. So, why the heck can't I just say it? Actually, I can. In English. But that doesn't matter, because I live in Norway, and my mother tongue is Norwegian. That's why I got to actually be able to say "I'm gay" in Norwegian. But at this time, I don't.
To be honest, I have no idea why the words won't leave my tongue. "I just can't say it," I told my psych for the 18th time today. I guess he understood, but I don't. It's just three freakin' words!
No, I have no idea. I wish it was easier. Let it slip away, and forget it. My wish. And what is most confusing to me is that I have no problem whatsoever saying "I'm gay" in English. But in Norwegian everything stops. I can't even write it! So, now neither communication methods, speaking nor writing, works to express this feeling.
It's about who I fall in love with, and who I wish I could screw. That's it. It's not much, is it? Or...? Well, maybe it is. Because it's about who I, in the future, want to share my life with. But when I can't even express myself, how the heck am I supposed to make that happen?
Shitty, shitty. I gotta get a life, and stop blogging. But I can't. It's kind of an obsession...
I'm gay - Jeg er ...
Monday, January 4, 2010
To Write Or Not To Write
I thought about quitting. Maybe I shouldn't sit here in my room in front of the Mac complaining over my life for the whole world. Because to be honest, I'll have to say that the posts are getting more and more depressing and negative. But I'm really not sure...
Over my blog you can see a blue banner made by the Blogspot creators. There are some "Report this" and "Report that" links, and there's a "Next blog" button as well. Curious as I am, I had to push that to check it out. So I ended up at some random blog. And the only thing I could see was children. A lot of them.
I really don't have any specific thoughts on children more than that they're irritating. Way too many people love and adore children, but I don't. Why I have no idea, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that when I pushed "Next blog" again, there where more children. And after that, even more! Pictures of children between the age of zero and eight years spamming the blogs at Blogspot.com.
I'm making you dislike me because I don't really like children. No, but seriously. And what I could see (for as long as I could handle (aka just a couple of seconds)) in these spamming pictures of children way too young to be exposed on the Internet, was that they were all so happy. And there my message got through (I hope).
All that happiness... It did something to me. It made me feel; Look for my feelings. I don't feel that sense of joy and happiness (as if you didn't get that already). Why? I guess that's the reason I talk with a psychologist three to four times a month. But still.
And believe me, I actually read something of what was posted too. All the positive vibes you could read both in and between the lines made me think a second or two. So, I'm considering to end the blog. I'm not deleting it whatsoever, because it's like some sort of evidence (so that if I ever end up doing something wrong, I can blame my psyche and possibly get away with more counseling, and no jail time).
Why am I even writing anymore? At this point I know about two people I know and am friends with that reads my blog. Maybe I'm writing for you, guys? Because verbal communication isn't really my thing. Through this blog I can then better explain what's happening to me, without messing up the words.
Maybe I shouldn't write for you either. Because it's not that fun to read such negative stuff I end up writing. Especially not when you know me, and I'm a friend. Or, at least I believe that's how it is. I can't say how you feel, though. Feelings are made in our own brain, and to understand others' feelings is hard. No, I have no idea.
We'll see. There's no day like tomorrow. My words of wisdom for today.
Over my blog you can see a blue banner made by the Blogspot creators. There are some "Report this" and "Report that" links, and there's a "Next blog" button as well. Curious as I am, I had to push that to check it out. So I ended up at some random blog. And the only thing I could see was children. A lot of them.
I really don't have any specific thoughts on children more than that they're irritating. Way too many people love and adore children, but I don't. Why I have no idea, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that when I pushed "Next blog" again, there where more children. And after that, even more! Pictures of children between the age of zero and eight years spamming the blogs at Blogspot.com.
I'm making you dislike me because I don't really like children. No, but seriously. And what I could see (for as long as I could handle (aka just a couple of seconds)) in these spamming pictures of children way too young to be exposed on the Internet, was that they were all so happy. And there my message got through (I hope).
All that happiness... It did something to me. It made me feel; Look for my feelings. I don't feel that sense of joy and happiness (as if you didn't get that already). Why? I guess that's the reason I talk with a psychologist three to four times a month. But still.
And believe me, I actually read something of what was posted too. All the positive vibes you could read both in and between the lines made me think a second or two. So, I'm considering to end the blog. I'm not deleting it whatsoever, because it's like some sort of evidence (so that if I ever end up doing something wrong, I can blame my psyche and possibly get away with more counseling, and no jail time).
Why am I even writing anymore? At this point I know about two people I know and am friends with that reads my blog. Maybe I'm writing for you, guys? Because verbal communication isn't really my thing. Through this blog I can then better explain what's happening to me, without messing up the words.
Maybe I shouldn't write for you either. Because it's not that fun to read such negative stuff I end up writing. Especially not when you know me, and I'm a friend. Or, at least I believe that's how it is. I can't say how you feel, though. Feelings are made in our own brain, and to understand others' feelings is hard. No, I have no idea.
We'll see. There's no day like tomorrow. My words of wisdom for today.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A Future Diplomat
I tend to like politics. Those who know me will definitely confirm that. So, in my winter holiday, I asked Dad what he believe is a good job for me. And he said "Diplomat." Well, well... After walking around as crazy thinking about it, I can agree on that.
The pro's:
* I like discussions.
* I don't want to live in Norway.
* I'm doing well with languages.
* I'm quite good ending argues and find solutions best suited for everyone.
* I'm versatile.
* I would definitely love the job.
* I like adventures.
And at the moment, I can't find any con's. Quite lovely, right?
Any other suggestions? I like almost everything. The only thing I definitely can't work with, is soccer. And there's 100% seriousness in that...
The pro's:
* I like discussions.
* I don't want to live in Norway.
* I'm doing well with languages.
* I'm quite good ending argues and find solutions best suited for everyone.
* I'm versatile.
* I would definitely love the job.
* I like adventures.
And at the moment, I can't find any con's. Quite lovely, right?
Any other suggestions? I like almost everything. The only thing I definitely can't work with, is soccer. And there's 100% seriousness in that...
Sunday, February 15, 2009
"Hi, Meet My Girlfriend!"
I like women. Yep, I do.
For a while now I've been wondering how it would be to have a girlfriend. Of course there are battles, but still it seems quite nice. To have someone who cares for you and love you, like a friend, but also like something more.
Then how will it be when I get a girlfriend? How will my friends react? And my family? Of course I have to tell them my little secret before that time, but will they be like all OK with it, or won't they like her at all? There's so may questions, but so few answers.
And if we say that I find a girlfriend, we fall in love, move in together, and, at the end, get married. If I then go home for vacation to Norway, what will happen? Me wandering through my hometown, meeting old classmates and so. They being 30, working at an office, having a wife or a husband, and maybe a child or more. Me working as a text writer or something, with my wife, and now home for vacation. Will it be just great? Or not?
Yes, and of course, the meeting with a former teacher. They might be retired, or in their middle age working. Ol' an' gray, but still with that same character as they used to have. "Hi, meet my girlfriend! Ain't she sweet?" How would they react? What would they think of me? Will they reply with "Satan has taken you!" or "Oh, hello! Yes, she's adorable!"
Yep, I really want a girlfriend...
For a while now I've been wondering how it would be to have a girlfriend. Of course there are battles, but still it seems quite nice. To have someone who cares for you and love you, like a friend, but also like something more.
Then how will it be when I get a girlfriend? How will my friends react? And my family? Of course I have to tell them my little secret before that time, but will they be like all OK with it, or won't they like her at all? There's so may questions, but so few answers.
And if we say that I find a girlfriend, we fall in love, move in together, and, at the end, get married. If I then go home for vacation to Norway, what will happen? Me wandering through my hometown, meeting old classmates and so. They being 30, working at an office, having a wife or a husband, and maybe a child or more. Me working as a text writer or something, with my wife, and now home for vacation. Will it be just great? Or not?
Yes, and of course, the meeting with a former teacher. They might be retired, or in their middle age working. Ol' an' gray, but still with that same character as they used to have. "Hi, meet my girlfriend! Ain't she sweet?" How would they react? What would they think of me? Will they reply with "Satan has taken you!" or "Oh, hello! Yes, she's adorable!"
Yep, I really want a girlfriend...
Friday, December 12, 2008
In Whom's Hands?
For a long time I've been very concerned about the environment. I try my best to not overuse our resources, travel environmentally and recycle. In the matter of fact: I'm going to live on this planet for a long time (I hope), and I don't want our planet to be so (sorry the expression) fucked up. I don't want to be a part of the human race when we destroy our home. But I don't think my generation will, if our parents try to teach us not to.
As mentioned earlier, my Dad isn't that a environmentally friendly person. He can be some egoistic. And when I think about it, I've been the one who follows up the recycling and traveling business at home. I made my parents recycle everything. I don't want to be bragging, this is reality.
There are parents who teach they're children to recycle and bike for school, but not too many. Social heritage is very important. So, if the parental generation could try to affect us, we, the persons who will rule the world within a few years, learn what to do, and especially what not to. The future is in the young people's hands, but even more in the parents' hands. When a child is born, he or she doesn't know a thing about the environment, but the parents does.
Teach us!
As mentioned earlier, my Dad isn't that a environmentally friendly person. He can be some egoistic. And when I think about it, I've been the one who follows up the recycling and traveling business at home. I made my parents recycle everything. I don't want to be bragging, this is reality.
There are parents who teach they're children to recycle and bike for school, but not too many. Social heritage is very important. So, if the parental generation could try to affect us, we, the persons who will rule the world within a few years, learn what to do, and especially what not to. The future is in the young people's hands, but even more in the parents' hands. When a child is born, he or she doesn't know a thing about the environment, but the parents does.
Teach us!
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