Tuesday, November 2, 1999, 0.37
Most of the time I don't feel very bad. But sometimes it suddenly hits me. That's the explanation of my previous entry. I've been having such breakdowns a lot the last few days. Then I feel like I have no future. I can't keep living at home, 'cause I often don't feel like home here. But I also can't live on my own, 'cause that has too many disadvantages. And I can't get a job, 'cause it's very hard for me to focus on things, and I don't think I could handle any responsibility at all. At times like those I just want to die, like I said in my previous entry.
Tonight I had one of those breakdowns. I didn't take my medicines. I figured that my problems wouldn't go away by medication anyway, and that I could use those pills better for taking an overdose. I should really talk about these breakdowns the next time I go to the Riagg.
I'm not "allowed" to drink alcohol while taking these medicines. The meds are supposed to increase the effects of alcohol, and one could get very sleepy. A few nights ago I tried. I had taken the meds, and then I drank some beer. Nothing happened. Too bad, 'cause I was hoping to get incredibly sleepy. That way I could use the meds & alcohol as a giant sleeping pill, and then put a bag over my head.
I'm really sorry to all the people that keep on trying to help me. You are all so nice to me, and all I do is keep talking about killing myself. It's like it's the only thing on my mind. I can't write much about other stuff, so I'm sorry to all the people that are vainly waiting for an e-mail from me.
Saturday, November 6, 1999, 0.37
Things aren't going so bad now. I gotta work tomorrow, drive to Zoetermeer (like everyone knows where Zoetermeer is. But it's better than saying "to a place." Right?) with some other people and then do the inventory there at a store where they sell things to build stuff. If you know what I mean. I had to pick up a van today, and that's great 'cause I can just drive around the city, or what the hell, around the country if I want. I don't even have to pay for the gas. My 13-year old sister was almost begging me to take her for a ride. I think it's nice that she likes that so much.
I didn't take my medication tonight. Why? I think it's because I don't wanna fall asleep so soon. I just want to think about my life tonight. And the best time to think is when I'm lieing (laying? lying? I'll never figure that out.) in my bed at night while I can't sleep.
I don't know if thinking about my life is such a good thing to do. See, my life isn't going anywhere. On one hand I wanna go back to college as soon as possible (to have an occupation), but on the other hand, it could be that it brings back too many bad memories.
I've been thinking about going to a university in another city, but I don't wanna leave Rotterdam. I have always lived here (except for the first 6 weeks of my life), and I feel like I belong here. I'm proud of everything about this city. An example. A few years ago, Sparta played against their big rivals Feyenoord for the Dutch Cup, and Sparta won. After the match there were people crying tears of joy, and an old couple stepped to the Sparta coach and said "thanks coach, you just gave us the most beautiful day in our life." Now where else in the world do you find that? Maybe in Greece. But I don't feel like learning to speek Greek.
Sunday, November 14, 1999, 0.45
It's been quite a week. On Monday I had to go to the Riagg. I had been thinking about moving to Utrecht and studying psychologie there, but as soon as I told the doctor at the Riagg, he said that it wasn't a good idea. And then I said that I wanted to start all over in a different city, to be away from all my bad memories. But he said that it was so like me to just run away from my trouble, and that now was the time to face my worries. That made me feel very bad. Here I was, making such nice plans about moving away from all my troubles, and then a professional "help-giver" tells me in one sentence that it's a bad idea. It made me feel so small.
From Wednesday 'til Saturday I had to work. The first two days went fine, but in the night from Thursday to Friday, I was walking in my sleep and the stairs to my bed broke. So I fell down, and it was truly horrible. My whole face was bleeding. There was blood pouring down from both my nostrils, and from my mouth too. I wasn't able to work on Friday 'cause my whole body was aching. I still look like I've been beaten up by someone.
Saturday I had to work again, but when I arrived at the exploiment agency (where I should be picked up), no one was there. So I didn't work that day.
Saturday, the early morning after the 19th of November, 1999, 0.52
I'm sorry for the recent lack of updates; I'm just not in a talking mood that often.
So today was the 19th of November. In case you're wondering why I mention that: the 19th of November was the date of the lustral feast at which I didn't have the guts to tell ******** that I love her. That was exactly one year ago. And I still feel miserable about it. Today I had to pick up a van to go to work with tomorrow, and tonight I decided to drive past ********'s neighbourhood. Just to see..... what? I don't know. I guess it's just that I wanna be near her.
A few nights ago I saw a movie about a (married) man who fell deeply in love with a(nother) woman, and she didn't love him back. That man began to stalk her. I myself am this close to becoming a stalker. But something keeps me from becoming one. Maybe it's because I promised her that I wouldn't stalk her. Maybe it's because she already thinks I'm a creep, so imagine what it would be like if I would drive past her appartment and past her school every day. Anyway, I guess that not being a stalker is one of the few things about myself which I can feel good about.
It's really hard not to stalk her. So what bothers me, is that in movies like the one I was talking about, the stalker is always pictured as some kind of creep. In this movie the stalker was married, but in other movies he isn't. So if we ignore the fact that he was married, what did he do wrong? What did he do? First he wrote the woman he loved a note, saying that he had been crying over her all night. Then he wrote her a letter, in which he said things like "you have qualities you don't even know about." Stuff like that. So what's wrong about that? Nothing, in my eyes. But this was considered stalking. He didn't even follow her, he didn't drive by her house all day, he didn't even touch her. He even offered to go into counselling sessions together with his so-called "victim." For some reason, she turned that down. But still, the guy is pictured as a creep all throughout the movie. That makes me very sad.
I think I know why I don't stalk ********. I cut myself instead. I just cut myself in my arm a few times, and I lost some blood... I'm beginning to feel dizzy. I can hardly imagine that it's because of the loss of blood, 'cause I didn't loose that much. But still, why else would I get dizzy?
But even though I cut myself, I still feel like seeing ********, calling her on the phone just to hear her voice, or writing her a letter or an e-mail. Now why is it that I can't talk to the Riagg about that?
One final thing before I go to sleep: If a "creep" is a guy who loves a girl very passionately, tells her about his feelings for her, gets rejected by her and cries himself to sleep over her, then I guess you can call me a creep. And I don't give a damn.
Saturday, November 27, 1999, 0.59
I had a horrible job from Tuesday to Thursday. I had to get up at 5.30, leave the house at 6 a.m., and returned home at 7 p.m. It was terrible. I'm glad it's over. But the good thing is that I made a lot of money.
Wednesday night when I was driving in the van home from work, the most wonderful thing happened: "Because I love you" by Stevie B was on the radio. That is such a beautiful song. I started to cry and I didn't care if anyone could see it. If anyone has that song as a wav-file, or can create it as a wav-file, please contact me. I'll be forever thankful.