Bruised: December 2011

Friday, December 30, 2011

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.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

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.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

..

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.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

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.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

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.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Pattaya

Kiew

I've been thinking a lot about the bar women I met in Pattaya this summer. I came by the bar they were working by accident, but somehow I ended up staying for hours and hours, talking with them and exchanging stories.

I told them about growing up in Denmark, never feeling at home anywhere. I love Thailand, and when I think and dream, I do it in Isaan. But sometimes I feel like an outsider, because people look at me differently, when they find out I was raised in a country they haven't even heard of, far far away. A white country.

And they told me their stories and why and how they ended up in Pattaya.

I ended up talking a lot with one of the girls, Kiew - because we're both from Chaiyaphum. She looked pretty sad. But whenever a customer came over, she instantly cheered up, laughing and smiling.

At one point, I was being pretty blunt. I asked her how it was, to sleep with a man for money. I wanted to hear it from her point of view. Kiew told me she came to Pattaya, in hope of finding a good white man who could marry her and take her with him to a European country, in order to start a new life without poverty. Problem is, the men who come to Pattaya, aren't exactly looking for wives. And the few who does, are surrounded by tons of bar girls with the exact same dream as Kiew. So the competition for a white man in Pattaya is tough as hell.

The sad thing about it? Almost all of the bar girls in Pattaya are from Isaan. Home sweet home. Life in Isaan is tough. It's the poorest region of Thailand and there's so many young men and women from Isaan, traveling to either Bangkok or Pattaya, in hope of finding a job (you can't really be anything else than a farmer in Isaan), just to come back a few years later, more confused than ever.

It's depressing how many Isaan girls who head off to the big cities, thinking they can get work as a maid or a cleaning lady, just to end up as prostitutes. I'm not judging them or anything, it's just sad. But I guess that makes me appreciate what my mom did more than anything right now. If she didn't marry Lars, then I might have been a girl like Kiew right now.

It's sort of interesting to see how different people of various backgrounds see it. Most Western women I've met, talk about the Thai women as helpless poor mail order brides or bar girls with no self respect. But in Thailand, it has nothing to do with a lack of self respect at all. It's about surviving and earning money to send back to the parents in the village. If you want a good life, then you gotta fight for it. That's just how it is.

Anyway. I find it weird when people assume my mom is a helpless mail order bride. She's one of the bravest women I know. She changed her own life, mine and our entire family's life by coming to a foreign country to marry a man she didn't know. She didn't do it because she was forced to it, but because she was determined to see me grow up with all the opportunities she never had.

So to all you haters. Holla at me when you've tried being in my situation. And by that, I mean being so poor that dinner sometimes consisted of insects and hand caught crabs from the rice fields. Then I might take your respond serious.

Anyway. It was nice hanging out in Pattaya with Mathias. We met some pretty cool and random people and had a good time sailing a bit, getting drunk every night and what not. But it bothered me a lot that he complained over the hotel we lived in because of the other guests. Bitch plu-eash! We stayed their for free (thanks to my moms awesome connections) and it was 2 minutes from the sea! How can you complain about that?! Listening to him whining made me want to exclaim something a la ''omg lulz go find another hotel with a huge ass pool where you can stay for free then''.

Other than that, it was great times. I liked being in Pattaya with Mathias. We walked around exploring the city day and night, drank whiskey while swimming in the pool when it got dark and talked about this and that in the hotel room.