Lort

Haven't really slept the last couple of days. The border between reality and fantasy seems to become increasingly blurred. Went to the darkroom. Someone had turned on the light. Thanks for ruining my latest photos. I wanted to scream and fucking bang my head against the wall.

Instead I went back. Anna was there. We shared a bottle of whiskey, while she talked about all the guys she had fucked since new years eve. I sat in front of the mirror meanwhile, smearing red lipstick on. I wanted to fucking stab myself in the face with the lipstick. If just it was a knife. I hate mirrors, but at the same time I can't walk past one without glaring at myself. Sigh.

Great. Michael just contacted me. I don't want this to happen. I wish he could realize that I'm no good and stay away. I want to call him and tell him that I'm sorry and whatnot, but oh well. This is for the greater good. Sigh. The cutest guy of Hunter freaking college. I'm sorry for being a bitch, but he'll thank me one day, for not dragging him with me down.

.. Some woman just approached me in the local grocery store. She asked me if I liked apples. Didn't say anything. Just stared at her. I wanted to bitch slap her and throw her down some flight of stairs which lead into a big pit of fire. Dunno why. Just felt like it.

I get that urge sometimes. You know, flipping out in front of strangers, just to see how they react. To see if they actually give a fuck.

Ok. Ended up talking with Michael. Why does my heart feel so bad? I wish he was here right now. But I'm no good for him, so even though I want to be with him, I'm trying to keep my distance, because he's just.. Way too good for me. Besides, I like him too much. And I don't want that, because I like having my feelings under control.

Sigh. Why is he so stubborn? I wish he could realize that I'm no fucking good and move on. Open your eyes, son. Fuck. This fucking love story motherfucking sucks. I want a fucking happy ending, God. Give it to me you bastard. Ok ok, I know I'm being selfish. Letting Michael go is the best thing I can do for him - but it's hard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Hearing him say I'm beautiful and that he just wanna be around me, made my heart skip several beats. But then I realized he was high. Oh. Bummer. I'm his, and he doesn't even know it. And now it's all too fucked. Sometimes I wish he hadn't entered my life. I told him he was one of the best things that happened to me way back in fall. I wonder if he can remember that, or if he was too high. Huh.

Anyway. I'm tired. I don't really know what to do with myself right now. Ate ice cream with a friend a few hours ago. I can feel how I'm slowly starting to resent myself for every minute. Urgh. I wanna look like Isabelle Caro.

Ok. I'm hungry, but lazy as fuck. So I google pictures of food instead. Sigh. This is sad + I need a hug.


Dun dun dun. Some photos of my day with Ibbers, a long time ago. Or actually just 2 months ago, but I consider that to be a long time. Did I already upload these photos? I can't remember. God! I'm getting old.

Nej

                                           

Everything seems to be so fucking perfect on the outside. But nothing of it is real. I don't know why, but I feel like being 100% percent honest for the moment. I get this urge sometimes. Maybe because I spend so much time hiding my feelings and lying. I don't lie about big things, but if someone ask me if I'm doing fine, I always say the same. I always tell them that everything is okay, even though it's bullshit.

I hate my body, because I used to be skinny - and I loved it. I loved lying down in bed, feeling all my bones and being so painfully hungry, without giving after. A few girls in class told our teacher about their eating disorders and whatnot. I despised them for giving up. I distanced myself from them, because they were losers. But our teacher just told them how brave they were. Urgh.

Me? Well. My mom gave me diet pills for Christmas and taught me not to give up. She taught me that purging after dinner is perfectly okay. Every time I ate a bit more than usual for dinner, she used to look at me, and then she would say "do you want to look like an elephant? no one is going to love you" to me, in Isaan. My mother tongue.

Pig, elephant, hippo, etc. That's what my mom used to call me when I did
something wrong. This day today, I still react when people say pig, hippo etc. I just got too used to being called ugly names, so they sort of became a part of me. My name is Aphinya. It's pronounced Apiña. My name means gorgeous beloved flower in Thai. But instead, I react to names related to big and clumsy animals. Ironic.

I remember sitting and reading about concentration camps once. God, I felt so jealous. I wanted to look like the girls in the photos. Frail, skeleton like, beautiful. But instead I looked like a pig. Still do. Back when I was 14, I bought a book about torture victims, and stumbled upon Junko Futura, a Japanese girl who got abducted when she was 17 and held for 44 days. I remember reading about how she got tortured. It was pretty brutal. Her nipples were cut off, her eyelids burned with cigarettes, fucked with scissors, hands smashed by weights, raped, flammable liquid poured on her legs and then lit on fire, etc. And yet I just got jealous. Because apparently she managed to lose a lot of weight.

I just want to be skinny again. Not thin, but skinny, dying. I feel lost under all these layers of fat. I used to be so beautiful once, back when I could feel all my bones and count all my ribs. But that was such a long time ago, so I can't really recall having been beautiful. It's like Michael's voice. I know that I love his voice, but I honestly can't remember it anymore. I just know that I love it. It's soothing, calming and makes me long for spring and well, him.

He's basically all I want. But I've had my chance. I opened up and I wanted to tell him so much about myself. Which is strange, because I usually don't get that feeling of wanting to share that much. But he's special. But he'll just make me sad, so instead of starting something I know is good for me, I started ignoring him, hoping he would stop contacting me. I regret being a bitch and not contacting him, but that's just how it is. Sometimes love's not enough when the road get's tough. I just wanted to fool around. I didn't know I was actually going to fall for him.

I suppose I'm just afraid that guys are going to turn out to be just like Jordan. After we started living together, everything quickly deteriorated. He started calling me names. Bitch, fat, ugly, gross, pig and whatnot. And if he didn't like what I had cooked, he made me cook something new for him or else.. Well. I ended up in the hospital a lot. Bruised.

It all ended one day when he he headed off to the airport while I was showering, on his way back to the Southwest. I freaked out when I realized that he was gone and went out, trying to find him - only wearing a dress. In the middle of February.

I didn't find him. Instead, I ran into two guys near the forest. I asked if they had seen him. They asked me to come closer. You know, some say they can't recall a thing, that it's all blurry for them. That they blacked out. Unfortunately, I didn't black out. I remember thinking what I had done to deserve it.

Afterwards, I felt like my life was a fucking joke. I just wanted to die. My parents were in Thailand and didn't felt like they needed to get back asap to see if I was okay. And Jordan? He pretty much just laughed over the phone, said I looked like a toad and that he didn't care. Heh. That's what he said, when I needed him the most. Even though he started making fun of my rape, I didn't hung up. I just asked him if he was okay and if he needed anything.

I suppose I started suppressing all the positive feelings for real after that, because I was afraid of being happy. Still am. I fear that the world will come crashing down if I let myself be happy for one moment. But at the same time, I'm longing to feel happy again. Which is ironic, because I don't really remember how it is to be happy. So I suppose I'm yearning for something unreachable.

I'm afraid to get hurt, so I close down. Which just makes me lonely in the end, because I always end up losing someone on the way.

Oh, when did life become this miserable? It's like I can't feel a thing, but at the same time I feel so bruised. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, because I'm so tired of everything. I'm not sad, I'm just so tired of how bleak everything looks. But even though I'm so exhausted and miserable, I can't really feel a thing. Or, I suppose I can. But I have a hard time focusing on the positive feelings.

Seeing what I've become, makes my heart ache. Every time I see myself in the mirror, it's like I can feel my heart break in tiny pieces. I hate mirrors, but at the same time I can't help looking at my own reflection every time I walk past a mirror. Sometimes I just stand in front of my mirror, for minutes and minutes.

 It's hard to believe I used to be beautiful once. But again, that was such a long time ago. I ended up in an international boarding school in Thailand, where the teachers forced me to eat. I slowly started to gain weight, and see where I am now. Sigh. I hate being so horrible ugly.

Someone just asked me how I can be down. After all, everything is utterly awesome in my age. Thing is, I'm not sad or anything. Just really disappointed over how life has turned out to be. Meaningless. But at least Jordan is dead. Knowing he's not going to hurt me anymore makes life a little less miserable.




There's too many people on this earth. We need a new plague.

Lige meget

It's like I'm a ghost. Like I don't belong in this world. I've mentioned that at least one million times now, but oh well. That's how I feel. Or wait. Feel? I'm not even sure if I have any real feelings left at all.

Anyway.. Everything seems pretty meaningless for the moment. I honestly can't remember the last time I cared about anything (other than photography). I mean, I'm not depressed and I don't feel sad - I'm just indifferent all the time.

The only thing I cared about, was my negatives, photos and cameras. Photos I've been taking since I came to Denmark at the age of 5. But all that is pretty much gone now. All my photos of my great grandma and my family from my biological dad's side are gone. And it's not like I can fucking recreate them.

So well. It feels like I lost my last attachment to this freaking world. I cared very little before, and now I don't care at all. I mean, of course I like my friends - but it's like they're just background figures and not really that.. Real. If that makes sense.

I'm pretty much surrounded by people every day. I talk a lot, I laugh a lot, I smile a lot and whatnot. But sometimes when I look back, none of it feels real. It's like it all happened in a distant past.. Cos even though I laugh so much, I don't really mean it. It's just my way of pretending that I do care, I suppose.

Sometimes I wanna fuck up a lot of things real bad, just to see if I care and to see how people around me will react. Like, once I talked with some random woman on the street. She asked me about the metro schedules in downtown. Suddenly I got this urge to push her down some stairs, for no reason at all. Obviously I didn't do it, but I wanted to. I really fucking wanted to. Just to see if I have any feelings and moral left in me.

Anyway. I'm looking at some negatives right now. They're useless. But I can't make myself throw them out. Wtf is this. Am I becoming a fucking hoarder?

P.S. I'm supposed to be in Finland right now. But I can't find my passport. Sigh.

Double sigh. Satan, where are you? I need youuuu. Anyway "tiny Asian ass"? Hell naww. Dis' baby got back!

Btw. It's nice when dinner parties turn into mini concerts.

Thanks.

Thanks for burning 99% of all my negatives and photos through 15 years and smashing my cameras. You know I've been having a hard time for the moment, feeling sort of lost, confused and alienated and that the only things that can calm me down, is the photos, my cameras and the negatives. Did burning up all my good memories and the only photos of my biological dad and my family from that side made you feel good? 

Everything seemed so strange, odd and frightening when I came to Denmark as a kid. I couldn't understand the language, it was cold and dark and I missed Thailand. I missed the temples, the monks, the strange animal sounds coming from the woods at night, the deep rain forests, the spiritual world of Thailand. I missed it all. But when Lars handed me a camera, everything became less frightening. Seeing my new surroundings through a lens made it somehow easier for me to cope and move on. So I started snapping photos. A lot of photos. Taking photos became a part of me. 

I've never really cared about much in my life. It doesn't quiet seem like I belong in this world. I smile, I laugh and whatnot, but it's not that I care that much or at all, deep down. But I care about my photos. The negatives are precious to me. And touching the cameras, knowing every single one of their shapes, calms me down. 

So yeah. Thanks for ruining the only fucking thing I've always cared about. I hope you feel good about yourself. I'm not angry, just disappointed. Angry would be me saying "you fucking bitch what the hell is wrong with you, please go kill yourself". But I'm not. So no worries. I'm not gonna say "I wanna fucking rip your head off". 

But at the same time, I wouldn't mine seeing you accidentally getting hit by a car. Multiple times. After someone has poured napalm and agent orange over you. Just sayin. 

..

My legs are bruised, my body is aching and it feels like someone just crushed my skull. I will never drink whiskey again. 

Dun dun dun. Here's a few photos from my trip to Prachuap, where I stayed at my aunts beach resort with a friend.

A guy we met at the top of Ban Krut mountain temple. Epic fail.

One of the beach resorts cute dogs. It was amazing. We stayed at a bungalow right down to  the private beach . Thanks auntie!

We ate lunch at a little beach side street food place and started talking a bit with the owner and her husband. Then somehow we ended up in their backyard, where we saw their monkeys being busy throwing down coconuts to the ground so they could be picked up by the street vendors brother later. 

At the mountain temple, Prachuap Kiri Khan.

We biked and biked until we found an ice cream bar at the beach side at the other side  of Ban Krut

I can barely see anything else than ass, hair and tits. But don't worry. I do have arms, legs and a face. 

Amazing view

Coconut trees and a little house, Ban Krut. Around 5 ca.

Hollow

I'm lying in my bed. I've been doing that pretty much all day long. I wish I could close my eyes and fall asleep. All these thoughts I've kept under lock and key for so many years, are now running through my head. The room is all heated up, but I'm freezing badly right now. I'm shaking. Sometimes uncontrollable. What's bothering me, is that I can't seem to feel angry, hurt, sad or anything. 


I knew this guy once. I was 16 (maybe 17?), and he was in his mid 20's. It all started off normal. But after a bit, it got ugly. Cigarette burns on my inner thighs, bruises, punching, cutting. That was his thing. When I mean cutting, I don't mean scratching your partners back until a little blood comes out. I mean razor blade cuts.


I have scars on the side of my face, because he once hammered my face into a mirror while fucking me doggy style. But somehow, I just didn't mind. The scars are there, but most people don't notice them. Or maybe they do, but choose to ignore it. 


I felt so empty inside, that being hurt actually felt relieving. I wanted to feel alive so badly. I used to be frustrated before meeting him, because I just couldn't seem to feel anything at all. But when I met him, I slowly started feeling more and more alive. Every time he hurt me, I remembered that hey, I'm not invisible. I'm not a ghost. I'm alive, because I can feel this pain. 


But that was back then. Things haven't really changed, although I'm not a pain addict like I used to be. I guess I sort of opened up to someone. Which disgusted me. I'm not sure what happened or why I did it. But I'm my old self now. Comfortably numb. 


I've kept it under lock and key, because I know I'm supposed to feel hurt, humiliated, scared and whatnot. But I don't. Why do I feel so distant, out of place and indifferent, when I know I'm supposed  to feel human? But what does that even mean? And what makes actions right and wrong? How can we tell what is good and what is bad? This night is going to be long. 




I'm hungry. 

(╯°□°）╯彡┻━┻ (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻ flipping tables.

┬──┬ ノ( ゜-゜ノ) putting back the table. 

ಥ⌣ಥ tears of joy. 

Made of concrete

I feel out of order and sort of invisible. Like I don't belong in this world. I smile and I laugh, but deep down, I guess I really don't care. I just do it, because it's a reflex. But when people are talking to me, it doesn't quite feel real. They're talking and talking, yet I don't seem to understand them. I just make sure to smile and nod, while I'm thinking of all kinds of other things. Like bear attacks. Random thoughts.


I mean. I can hear when people talk to me. Yet I don't understand what they say. All I hear is 'blablala... Blabla? Bla! .. Blaaaablablabla blaaaah''. Obscure flicking noises. 


Anyway, I'm not depressed, because being depressed would imply that someone has deeper feelings (otherwise someone who's depressed wouldn't get the ''my heart hurts'' feeling). So well. Not depressed. I just stopped giving a fuck, I guess.


For example. There's this one guy. I was so sure I liked him. But then I realized that I had fooled myself. I was so desperate to feel just a tiny bit of what being human is about, that I convinced myself that I actually did care, even though it was not the case.


Speaking of guys. My ex boyfriend called me. The one Helena set me up with on a blind date, not knowing we already knew each other too well. It's sort of odd. I know I was supposed to feel something when he called. Like.. Melancholia? Anger? I don't know, just something. But I couldn't feel anything but boredom, which sucked a bit. Did I really spend time being in a relationship with someone who doesn't wake up at least one tiny feeling inside of me, when I look back?


I honestly don't know why he called. It ended a long time ago. I can't even remember what he talked about. Only bits. He kept talking, not knowing I weren't even listening.