This is the story of my life. It's not a particulary long story neither very exciting; it is a story about life and the many turns it takes.

As is common with all stories we start at the beginning. I was born on February 10th 1989. I don't think anything strange or magical happened that day. My birth is something no-one talks straight about, some say I was born dead, others that I was just a light blue color (due to the suffocation caused by that infernal umbilical cord!). I have, however, came to believe that I indeed was born dead. This is a fact that I have blamed many of my body's and mind's shortcomings on; true or false.

As a child growing up, I was happy, had friends. good parents, the lot! I was always smiling, nothing could bring me down! People always pointed out what a talkative and forwards boy I was. I point out the "was". Somewhere along the line of puberty, my mind started to change. I was still talkative, social and happy; around people. As soon as I was by myself, my main activites was poking around my own head. "What made me, me?" "Why do I "tick"? " "What value does my existence really have" "What is this world we live in"

The first question was the one that longest eluded me. But I reached an answer (a temporary one):
"I am me, for me, by me, because I am me."
This might sound like a madman's ravings, but this is a thing I thought hard and long about.

The "I am me, for me, by me" is simply saying, "This is me, accept it, I make myself real".

The "Because I am me" is a part that I realized later, that whatever you are; you are. Flaws and skills, uglieness and beauty, all of it, is you! No matter how you change your existence it's still you; for YOU are a relative being.

The second question has yet to be answered as I have a issue with my own values and principals or more of a; Why SHOULD I tick?

The third and fourth question, I came to a harsh discovery when I was quite young. "What value does my existence really have?" Absolutely zero, I matter to this world, less then the ants in the forest. There are rocks and minerals that are more useful and brilliant then me. But this is OK. I have accepted my Zero-Value with the goal to better myself (though this has proven terribly difficult) in order to be of more use to our Mother, and the beings of this world.
"What is this world we live in" A test. A big awful, brilliant, evil test. You start life with hope, something snatches it from you and then you spend the rest of existence trying to get it back. Hope does return to you, almost always to late though.

This is what I believe, everything is dark, horrible and mad. But here's the clever bit I don't say very often. Because I see the world this way, when I see a small "wonder" (beauty, miracles, delights etc) it's blown up; way out of proportion. When I feel down, the kind of kill-myself-or-just-hang-on down, I simply talk to a girl a like, remember a special memory, watch a beautiful object etc and just let myself loose within the wonder.

So I figured all this out, before I was 15. I know what you're thinking; no way, he's making it all up, he was always happy.

I was always happy, around people. If it's a fascade or some defense mechanism I don't know. All I know is: alone equals very sad and troubled. I had to find a way to relieve all the stress that had been building up from the sadness and everchanging moods.
Enter, the knives. Boxcutters, carvers, meatknives, all sorts! I cut myself. Never bad, never deep or in bad positions; noone could know or see. I felt good, still like the feeling, to get all that stuffed up emotion out of your system. I again can suspect your thoughts, "That's horrible!! Why would you do that? Emo!" And so on and so on. But this is something I choose to do, it's just my way of relaxing sometimes.

My life?

It's somewhere around here I got my first real girlfriend. My life went upside down, still can't remember much. No knives, she hated it. I didn't need them either, I had found a substitute, love, hugs and sex, lots and lots of the three. The fact that sleeping came back into my life was something I valued very much. Sleeping troubles had plauged me as a teen; but now I slept like a newborn.
And it wasn't that I got my "hours", but the sleep was different, almost sereen. She helped me through some of my thoughest times, my grandparents dying (which still disturb and control me today), the realization that my dreams were pipe-dreams and many many more.

But those years I had with her, where the best of my life. I gave up alot of things, found others. But as long as we were "we" things would always work out. It was somewhere here, our 5th year together, that my mind started to "come alive" again. The questions of existence and meaing echoed through my head. Also something new, self-loathing, and my confidence in what I did and who I were, took a skydive; without a parachute.

What follows is my life's biggest regret

I didn't get help.

I let it go out over her. I let it go out over everything. I became filled with hatred, over myself. I loathed the fact that I didn't amount to what I wanted, that I had thrown my dreams away (this was when I had ambitions). Everything spiralled, I pushed her away until finally... we weren't "we" anymore. If she found someonelse I do not know, it does not matter. What matters is that it was my fault.

The following one and half to two years, was the worst in my life (yet; as I am certain worse will come). After we had broken up, everything meant nothing. I was close to ending it all on a couple occasions. I stood on bridges, wondering about the jumps. I drove my car to limits not meant for safety. I crashed my motorbike on purpose; just to feel something. Everything and everyone lost meaning and purpose.

Then I remembered, "Lest We Forget", a qoute that's been with me since forever. I would not be the guy who killed himself over a girl. I had to find other meaning with life (after all it is relative and everchanging). So I started picking up old friendships, hobbies and plans. Things were looking brighter and brighter.

Of course I still had my fair share of sad moments and lonely times, but I always managed (even if it was just barely sometimes). No sex for two years (don't ask, have no idea how I did it), a broken soul on the mend and the same for my heart.

Then one day I realized something, something horrible and wonderful, I had feelings for a girl. This was so unexpected and totally foreign that I shut it off (foolish me). But these feelings grew as we started spending more time around each other. After a couple of months we had started a friendship and it looked like this was a friendship that would be a wonderful one! But, alas, my old feelings started to spin into work again. Trying to get closer, we spent more time togehter. We opened each others pasts up, like locked strongboxes. Spent hours and hours talking, sunrise and sunset. It was beautiful.

Well you're thinking, "That's great! Make her yours!"

Problem

She was already in love with a man from a different country. Though they had not known each other for very long, I could tell that their love was strong. And so I made myself take distance. Or try anyway. As it would seem that fate didn't like me very much.

We met in dreamlike states, made love, comforted each others worries and distresses. But she was never mine. I couldn't kiss her in public or throw those loving tender glances that she deserves. For she was not mine.

I have pondered this many, many nights. I think she was just protecting me, trying not to get me more hurt; more destroyed. The things and times with me were nothing but a self-comfort instead of love towards me. I was a replecemnt, a stand-in.
Funny thing; I didn't mind. As long as I was near her.

As long as she was happy.


I don't know what my life will do to me. Nor what I will do to my life. All I know is, what we do, should always have meaning; to ourselves. Only care about what you think about yourself. Time goes on, and if you haven't used it all up (the way you want to) you have failed.

For as they say, life is for living. So spend it freely!