I just got spam from a mr. David Bowel.

I actually went to see dad today, and told him for 4 hours straight what living hell he made my childhood and that I will seriously kill him if it's true what my sister is saying about him showing HER the back of his hand now (she's 17, doing 9th grade for the third time, just like I'm on a 5-year sick leave from biz-school. She moved out recently, dad is losing her. I didn't make it past 15, I had to get out. Anxiety attacks at 4 and panic attacks at 13 are only the tip of the ice berg). She is the apple of my eye, I put her bullies into place, and I will not watch him turning her into a walking wreck. She will not have my fate. Touch my sister and you're dead old man!! You left her alone (bah, more like spoiled her like a princess) and used me as your punching bag, you're not changing that now!! I am not surprised he did not remember and found it hard to believe that he actually used to kick me and beat me with a leather belt and my OWN TOY (!!). I remember them as clear as day. He was shocked, sure, and I always knew that the only explanation to how he could live with himself despite that was because...he did not remember it. He blocked the trauma of doing what he swore never to do, turning into his father. He barely could hold his tears back. But I have forgiven him. He just needed to hear this. All dirty details. And no, 4 hours of (surprisingly) calm and rational and sympathetic yet cruel-to-be-kind explanation did not cover even 2 percent. It just sorta covered the big picture. She is the only thing I cared about when I stopped caring about my life. I love her like my own flesh and blood, she will not face my fate. Not as long as I'm here to stop it. I'll die fulfilling this duty. I did today what I consider my life's meaning. I saved her. Like ever before.

We were nearly put into separate foster homes when living in Sweden.

I talked to a (hind-sight: stupid) teacher. "dad hits me". Yeah okay he did, but I meant "he makes me feel mentally ill". She calls social services (child care). Strange ladies start visiting us (they even tried a sort of familiar and safe spice and appointed a Finn-immigrated-to-Sweden as the other one of the two). Well whaddaya know. Me, dad and sis had to start going daily to Karolinska Institutet (worldwidely famous research-specialized Stockholmian hospital), they monitored us, how dad treated us, how we acted around him. Hey, of course he put his best dad qualities on display! He was doing his best and he was responsible (which my mother, who never laid hands on either of us kids, wasn't). I respected and loved him for that. Still do.

But I feared him, despite all my love and precocious understanding for his situation (yeah, I never blamed him. I KNEW he was wronging me. But there was never bitterness and blame. Just sadness and sympathy). And yet the fear. and I was just 8 when this started. Or just turned 9. Something like that. Late -95. *siiiiiigghhhh*

So...we went there. It was kinda fun though. We got to play fun games with other kids there (luckily there were older kids so I got more out of it :P). everything. And I had just one hour of school daily :D I always loved school for learning though. But the 12 years of bullying kinda...took the piss out of it (here only 9 are mandatory, but I was an outsider in biz-school too). So. Months pass, they interview me and sis. Then one day (after they started asking/telling us to come with mom instead), mom disappears, middle of the day. She returns with suitcases. My and sis' stuff. "we're taking you to a place where your father won't get to you". I go "lolwut?", sis doesn't really react (well, she's just turned 3 at the time). Mom looks confused. We get a car-ride.

Beautiful big mansion. With families with problems. Just the 2 of us. Not mom, not dad.

Who does a little confused 3-year-old turn to? Her big-protective-sister, yes. I was her haven. Her guardian. Her comfort and trust-person. Her protector, saviour. Strangers. "taking care of us". Destroying our family. The ripples of it. And all I care about. Natasha. My one and only baby sister. My life line. My responsibility. My duty. My life.

Mom says "boo-fucking-hoo I need a 'nerve-vacation' (Finnish expression)". Heads off to Crete for 2 weeks with her boyfriend and brings back a fucking crystal-necklace (that dad became paranoid about and threw away because [probable explanation] sis played with the stove and left it on and he thought it was bad spirits bound to the crystals fucking about in our home and she was too afraid to admit it was her, or she just didn't remember, 5-year old by the time).

*puff*

2 months there, school ending comes and dad does not let me go ("oh-my-fucking-god they sing psalms there" [the song that finns and swedes do at school endings, it's the national lutheran church that probably brought that, and dad is a Jehovah's Witness {hey, no JW-shit here okay, I know a bit better than those who see them at doors and fend them off as dogmatic lunatics, not that I sign under their beliefs completely myself, but I see the sense}]). Then, Oh heavens, dad has talked himself to getting permission to move in with us! Hey fucking great eh!?

WELL! This place was in itself pretty swell. It had a piano which I played fanatically. OMIGOSHIGETTOPLAYSTUPIDBADTHINGSONPIANOTOENTERTAINMYSELFANDPAINTHEENVIRONMENT!! There was also an allowance system. I was 9, so I got 20 Swedish kronas per week (Saturdays [is that with a capital or not, I forget??]). That's...Umm, 2 dollars? Approx, sure, currencies change over years. I bought a brush I used for years. And some small stuff. Made a diving record (a pretty average size swimming pool, not small, medium). I swam along the sides a whole round, I mean dived, appeared to me I have a natural talent for holding my breath very long while under physical stress :P it was maybe a minute round, and I dove :D

It was also a pretty place. It had teens, which loved my 9-year-old precocious company. They were students, they lost their homes in a fire :( we watched Lion King in their flat, they wanted me with them always ^^ and then...the forest fire in the movie...one girl went into a panic attack....I was calm and collected. I never panic (hey, ATTACKS are NOT comparable!) and they shooed me out of there. Her name was also Camilla. Once she came downstairs to watch TV with me and dad and started crying and I just hugged her because my pain was enough, I wanted her to get better. She was darling.

well....2 months. Dad moved in and 2 days and they moved us to this secluded shit place with no activities. I am convinced it was because (oh hey OMIGOSH their dad moved in with them now they're feeling worse). 2 months.

Dad wakes up one day when I get up. "Tomorrow we have an early wake up. Go to bed early" (I was a night owl since baby-age. Dad once woke up at 4 am to go to the bathroom and saw light from my room. Opens up door, finds me sitting on the floor reading (3-years old - yes, I learnt to read early, knew the whole alphabet at the age of 2). "why aren't you sleeping?". Response: "sleeping? WASTE OF TIME!". LOL.

So. I disobey. I sit and read in the bathroom til midnight. Daddy stays up til midnight, chats with the other adults. Comes to our room. Sis wakes up. She always kicked off her blanket, and dad came in and she started whining "gimme my blankie!!". I had just fell asleep, wake up to the noise and whined "shut up I'm trying to sleep!!!". Dad says "what do you think if we get the heck out of this place?". My sis cries out excitedly "YEAH!!!!" (actually this is what I woke up to, my bad, and too lazy to edit previous text, heard the unregistered things afterwards). So I wake up to this in the exact fashion I previously explained and dad throws me a set of totally black commando clothes and tells me "we're getting outta here". We climb out of the window, sneak across the back yard with our stuff. Edge of the yard, forest starts.

We run 10 minutes through the thicket and my paternal gramma (the second person I loved after sis, she was my home and haven when mom and dad divorced, the only place that was consistent, that stayed the same, was home), my oldest cousin's husband, my dad's brother and others...they met us.

They lead us to a car. We drove fast, 10-20 kilometers. After which we switched car, drove to Arlanda (Stockholm int. airport) and slept a few hours. Then dad explained "we're moving to Finland now". I was happy because I was hated in Sweden for being a Finn. I hate Finland more now. Because Fenno-swedes hated me for being born in Sweden although I spoke Finnish perfectly and they didn't. Didn't even have a Finnish name which I had (last name, okay, yet that told about my heritage more than my given name).

So my gramma gave me some Finnish money when I gave her my Swedish money. And we moved (fled) to Finland.

The social workers sent us a formal letter couple months later. "come here to Sweden and we'll talk". Yeah fucking right. Once we're within Swedish borders, they'll snatch me and sis from each-fucking-other and never let us see any of our family members again (when my paternal gramma visited us at the first place, she cried, and I have never ever otherwise seen her cry. I asked: gramma, why do you cry, you never cry? and she said "I have never had a reason to cry before")

So...there were more awful and fugly details to this story. But this is why I live in Finland these days.

Be very afraid, because some day...this thing will see its amends.

oh, i also just probably lost my best, dearest ever friend because I told him I did something to him I never thought I would do EVER, with Petri who just now left me because I am a wreck of a person. Have been since childhood. And now I am in limbo. I wanna die even more now but I made a promise and I intend to keep it at the cost of my sanity. My life has never sucked harder. But at least I know now that there are no lies to pain my conscience anymore.

Keeeel.....meeee.........

....

one would've thought that with my history one would've ended up immune to pain long ago. And well, I did. I achieved that perfect state of not caring. I had it right there and then. I had it all. And yet I took a piss at that because I thought this time it would end up differently. That I would end up with getting other than the short end of the stick. But I never learn do I? Never before did I think that I was capable of loving someone else unconditionally. Or care for another person, not to mention care about myself. No one else ever made me wanna change the direction of my life, wanna get better. Never before was I willing to sacrifice my dreams of nomadic life exploring the world and the dimensions of our cultures, and even imagine settling down. I would've done it all, if that was what it took to be with him. I threw the things I loved the most in the river because I loved him more. And this is what I got.

Apparently shifting your priorities and dreams, sacrificing what you dedicated your life to til then - because of your love for someone - isn't enough. I still should've given more. I should've never been ill. I should've been perfectly healthy right now. That's what I should've been. Getting better isn't enough. It's too slow. Everything right here right now was what would've been enough. And I couldn't give it.

Fine. I get it. You wanna see me happy. Doing a great job so far. Hee-ho-happy-I-am. See the wet bra I'm wearing? That's how fucking happy I am.

I wanted to be happy for you. I still do. It's just that I haven't got much reason to motivate me now that you don't want me anymore. I have no one to get better for, I don't give a crap about myself. I couldn't care less. I can't eat (not that I'm complaining about that). I can't sit still yet I'm too lethargic to even flare a nostril. I can barely breathe. I have to brace my diaphragm in order not to hyperventilate. I'm bordering all sorts of attacks minute in and minute out. I literally feel I'm falling. Yet there always is a bottom. I crash. Then I fall again. Crash. Fall. Crash...you get the drift.

I wish I could just go tabula rasa on my mind. I don't care about no good memories. This twist just made them bitter. I don't wanna remember what I can't have anymore. It means nothing to me anymore. Just like everything else. I hate being so goddamn emo but this just really, really sucks.

By the time I was 17 my brain was nothing but a lump of scar tissue. My heart now follows suit.

It may take a while, but when shedding my last tear for you, I'll be shedding what's left of the little humanity that I had left in me. Gone, like tears in the rain.

Long live the new flesh.

I have apparently misplaced my camera's memory card. This sucks. I must've fiddled with the thing while drunk and just put it in a really weird place. I have no idea why I would've took it out of the camera in the first place, since I don't need to do that to load the pictures onto the computer.

This means you'll have to wait a bit longer to see my new, bright-as-fuck screaming orange hair. Intentionally left some of the outwashed black in the front because I like having darker hair in front of my face, but most of the rest I cut away, leaving just a few dark touches here and there, it's quite cool actually.

Also. I hate the heat. I've been frequently been sticking my head in my freezer just to cool myself down. I think I should get one of those big "coffin-kind" freezers and hibernate there occasionally coming out for cool summer nights, until it's fall again, and the temperatures are decent.

I mean summers make me feel icky. Sweaty, I feel unfresh, my face goes really puffy (which is not attractive at all), I feel dizzy, nauseous, too tired to do anything but veg at home until it's night. Also up here in scandinavia, the midnight sun just freaks me out, I already have sleeping problems and this isn't helping!! I'd rather move somewhere closer to the equator, get a night time job and sleep all days behind light-blocking curtains. Because summer nights are indeed the best! It's dark, it's warm, but not too hot, and the nightlife attracts me more than daylife.

Oh, and just to add: Miami Vice = LOVE.

I'm just watching it on STC. Also, now that I reached the latest episode of True Blood online after my marathon, I have to wait a week for each new episode :( tomorrow....