I just wanna be somebody

Someone like you. Live this life, enjoy it, breathe while I can. I don’t wanna wither away. I wanna be me, dare to be me. Say what I mean and don’t care who judges me, believe that in the end it’s most important that I myself care and that I myself don’t judge.

You can never change the ones around you, but you can change yourself. Or so I have heard, but it certainly feels just as hard as trying to change someone else. Hold my hand. Be my friend. Let me be me.


Who are we really when it’s medication that determines our mood?

If you broke your leg, and got it plastered in a cast and took some heavy pain meds to ease the suffering, would you then say that the feeling of being whole and okay was real? I wouldn’t. I would understand that the only reason I felt okay was because I had something protecting my leg from pain and further injury, and medication for it not to hurt so bad. I would understand that my leg was still broken and would need time to heal. Furthermore the medication and the cast would probably hinder me in terms of making me sleepy and making it difficult for me to move. So I would feel good, or at least okay, but I would know that it was because I got some “help”, and that is completely fine when it comes to a broken leg. I would have no problem whatsoever with the feeling of being good and whole being fake, until of course my leg had healed, in a matter of weeks or months.

But what then when it comes to psychological illnesses, and medication for those?

If you were depressed – one thing is that there would be no cast for that, nothing would protect you from pain and further injury then – but you got prescriptions for and took anti-depressant or mood modifications, would you then say that the feeling of being okay was real?

It is here the problem lies. Because when it comes to your mood … if you feel alright, you are alright, or? It should be like that, but it is so easy to wonder. And you start to wonder if it is real, and then what part of it is real. With a broken leg it is easy to separate. But when the medications is actually tampering with your mood, it is really also nibbling at the you, at who you are. My mood determines my thoughts, my thoughts determines my actions, and my actions defines me.

I see that the medications is just helping to balance an unbalance in your hormone levels, which shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and it is simply a biological problem. But it doesn’t feel like that. You start wondering why things are feeling better, and if the laugh you had was actually because you were having a good time or just because the meds made you happy. It makes you confused, because your problems don’t disappear, but you feel good. So it’s like “I want to fuck the world, but I’m glad about it – Yay!”.

So lets just come to the conclusion already that the feeling of being okay was actually fake. So your mood is fake > your thoughts are fake > your actions are fake > you’re a fake > people only like the fake me > nothing is real > no one loves the real me > and so on and so forth. There is so many thoughts that’s just spiraling on to the first conclusion. And you don’t even know when you can stop taking the medicine because who knows when a mind is healed and whole.

I’m not saying that you should drop the meds, because obviously they are the life jacket for many, and the reason you got up from the ditch and got strong enough to fight through the rest. What I am saying is that it’s not “just” to pop some prozacs.

What is the point in liking a post you don’t even read?

Seriously, I don’t get it. I see the fact that by doing that someone will check out your own blog, but … still. Does anyone have a good answer for me?

Why do you press like on a post you haven’t even read? You can’t know that you like it when you don’t really know what ‘it’ is. So practically the liking is just bullshit, and why bother?

Follow me, and let me be alone

Double pair of footsteps wherever I go
Double set of shadows, though I’m always alone
Someone breaking in, and I can’t get out
I’m trapped with my mind, and she shouts

I fear the silence, and I fear the sounds
I fear the lonesome and the dancing crowd
Run with me, and let us be alone
I’ll be your rock, you are my stone

Follow me
follow me and let me set you free
follow me, follow me, foll-ow

Wonder what they see, on the outside looking in
Maybe they’re just thinking ‘bout their afterdinner sin
Though it’s crowded here, I’m on my own
She nags at my side so I’m never alone

I fear the blindfold and I fear the sights
I fear the shadows and the all-consuming light
Leave you behind, let me be alone
I am the rock, and I am the stone
©Marie Olivia and On my way

Some days I believe and some days I don’t

Some days (or seconds) I think that “you just have to keep going, trust in yourself, and do the work that has to be done”. I think that I can’t waste any more days, and that I just have to work my ass off and it’ll pay. I think that maybe I’ll make it. Maybe I’ll get through. I tell myself to believe, and to not be let down by others anymore. “It’s just YOU!”

Other days I think that “I’ll simply lie here until it passes, let what happens happen, and get back to it when the hardships are over”. I think that I’ll just let it be, until it gets easier. I think that maybe it will pass. I tell myself to believe that it shall pass, and be like a bear, and sleep through it.

No matter what I think and what I tell myself, I know that I am not strong enough to get through and make it, and I am not dumb enough to believe that it will pass.

Some days I believe and some days I don’t, but most days I just don’t know.