<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182</id><updated>2011-04-22T03:49:13.008+03:00</updated><title type='text'>lover girl's blog</title><subtitle type='html'>A diary or something like that.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>315</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-8500225388624898587</id><published>2007-07-09T10:17:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T10:29:02.116+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Decapitation</title><content type='html'>I saw such dream again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to be decapitated. This time it happened in my parents living room. And my parents were there too. And other people were there too. I was scared and crying. I was afraid it would hurt. And what if executioner would fail to do it neatly? What if it would take several attempts before I would die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked with my mother and she told she had wanted it to happen in their house so that they could watch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I merely sat on floor waiting for everything to be ready. They brought a big block of wood in front of me and no one needed to force me to do anything. I was kind of happy thinking that soon it will be over. So I put my head on the block. I remember thinking if I should rest my forehead on it or should I look to either side so that my neck would touch the wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put my forehead on it. I felt cold metal lightly touching back of my neck when executioner kind of placed axe where he was aiming. Then it dissappeared as the axe was lifted up. And then I felt how axe was coming down. A sharp pain in back of my neck and then everything went black. I know I was dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even close to as scared as I was when I was first time killed in my dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-8500225388624898587?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/8500225388624898587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/8500225388624898587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2007/07/decapitation.html' title='Decapitation'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-3172429226825168395</id><published>2007-04-16T10:21:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T10:37:57.137+03:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been A While</title><content type='html'>I was almost shocked when I looked the date when I last posted here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been longer times now at hospital and without any proper internet connection. I don' know really... I have somehow more or less forgotten this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been so suicidal anymore. Partly because of the hospital. Partly because I finally quit thinking we would be friends ever anymore with H. She isn't interested in friendship enough to get any dent to her ego. She isn't willing to admit that she would have done a single wrong thing. To her it's more important than a friendship, my life or anything related to me. It's really humiliating to be just discarded and abandoned. And she knew it and apparently did it without feeling bad at all. Well now she is free to go to get new friends for fun and then throw them away again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate her for that. And hating can feel so good. I don't often see bad anywhere else than inside me. No matter what is done to me I almost always get feeling it is because I'm inheritly bad and worthless. I guess she crossed some kind of tolerance line when she same time gave "I'm a nice person and a good friend" act while declining to talk about or apologize that she had lied and hurt me. There's only a certain amount of bullshit a person can take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure she tells her story to people. People who in turn hate me and think bad about me. Would be funny to hear if she actually explains that she lied to me, then suddenly blamed me for believing her lies and after that refused to discuss about it and saw nothing wrong in it at all. All this while knowing I was depressed, almost suicidal with immense fear of rejection and abandoning. And that I something like 8 months tried to get her talk about it and she simply either got angry, ignored me or blamed me about being hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-3172429226825168395?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/3172429226825168395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/3172429226825168395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2007/04/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been A While'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-117075117793272097</id><published>2007-02-06T10:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T10:39:38.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was in the middle of a room and there were people around watching me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I had to cut myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I bled and I tried to cover the pool of blood forming below me with a towel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But it didnt absorb it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And around me they become angry at me because I couldnt keep the floor clean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They left the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I was alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I woke up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was in the same room again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Again there were people around me, watching me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I had to cut myself but I only had dull scissors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I tried to explain that it's difficult to cut yourself with such scissors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But they got angry and told me stop making excuses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They left the room again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I was alone again, in the middle of that room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-117075117793272097?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/117075117793272097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/117075117793272097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-was-in-middle-of-room-and-there-were.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-116574235650890146</id><published>2006-12-10T11:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T11:19:16.536+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Alive</title><content type='html'>Im still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been in hospital without net connection. Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-116574235650890146?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/116574235650890146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/116574235650890146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/12/still-alive.html' title='Still Alive'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-116124791648401997</id><published>2006-10-19T11:46:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T11:51:57.020+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know how it will end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll end up in hospital. No one knows about it. I dont tell about it to anyone because people dont want to hear about it. When I get back to home, no one has noticed I was gone. No one asks what has happened or how I am. No one is happy that Im back. And I still cant talk about it to anyone.  I will feel horrible and suicidal. But there is no one I could call. When I cant take being alone anymore I kill myself. The end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-116124791648401997?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/116124791648401997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/116124791648401997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-know-how-it-will-end.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115830369325119307</id><published>2006-09-15T09:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T10:01:33.273+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>somehow i doubt ill ever talk with some of those people i thought as my friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no goodbyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just dont exist to them anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure they answer if i keep asking but otherwise im invisible to them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont think medicine, therapy or anything can help. i mean i can get rid of depression. i can get rid of anxiety. but what can change that people like me more? if the person, personality and identity, that i am now isnt good enough then there is no solution. only solution would be becoming another person but i dont think i want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe my personality is just a failure - kind of unsuitable for living, for having friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115830369325119307?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115830369325119307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115830369325119307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/somehow-i-doubt-ill-ever-talk-with.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115789521286207680</id><published>2006-09-10T16:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-10T16:33:32.886+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>more people know me &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;less &lt;/span&gt;they like me. even closest friends at some point will see something so &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;repulsive &lt;/span&gt;inside me that they start &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;avoiding &lt;/span&gt;me. i try to keep people in right distance but it &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;never &lt;/span&gt;works. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;no one&lt;/span&gt; cares to stay as my friends more than couple years. everyone just &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;lies &lt;/span&gt;about staying in contact and being as friends but they &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;never &lt;/span&gt;contact me on their on. friendships are just lot of work for something that &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;wont last&lt;/span&gt;.or maybe im a fastfood of friendships - &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;consumed &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;discarded&lt;/span&gt;. and i dont believe it will &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;ever &lt;/span&gt;change. i will just always end up being &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;alone &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;abandoned&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115789521286207680?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115789521286207680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115789521286207680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/more-people-know-me-less-they-like-me.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115780601590785658</id><published>2006-09-09T15:45:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T15:46:55.930+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>my death wont make much difference..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if fact i dont think many will even notice it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115780601590785658?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115780601590785658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115780601590785658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-death-wont-make-much-difference.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115770782498248269</id><published>2006-09-08T12:29:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T12:30:25.006+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>deep inside im so bad and ugly that no one who knows me well enough wants stay in contact with me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115770782498248269?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115770782498248269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115770782498248269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/deep-inside-im-so-bad-and-ugly-that-no.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115769634399628048</id><published>2006-09-08T09:16:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T09:19:03.996+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if there is no land &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anywhere in sight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doesnt it make sense&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to swim anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115769634399628048?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115769634399628048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115769634399628048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/if-there-is-no-land-anywhere-in-sight.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115769614287138298</id><published>2006-09-08T09:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T09:15:43.260+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i feel like cut off from the normal world...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the fact that we almost never talk anymore, and that i never contact you or ask how you are, or even notice if you're gone a week or two, doesnt mean that we arent friends anymore"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont understand people... i never actually have...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115769614287138298?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115769614287138298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115769614287138298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-feel-like-cut-off-from-normal-world.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115680086086612541</id><published>2006-08-29T00:32:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T00:34:20.890+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>why does it always happen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; wish i wouldnt need to be alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont want to die&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115680086086612541?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115680086086612541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115680086086612541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/why-does-it-always-happen.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115648648112446818</id><published>2006-08-25T08:58:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T09:14:41.156+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Thinking through everything once again yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fundamental problem is that I interpret reactions and emotions wrong.  For me it seems that people are always in contradiction in what thay say and how they act. Last months clearly show that people wont change their behavior towards me, and that they dont like me when I'm depressed and interpreting then wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there are two solutions: I need to change or I need to act like normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lots of experience of latter. It doesnt work. I do get along with people. I get friends easily. But I will always get bad phases when I'm in trouble acting. People dont understand it and they are very unwilling to try to help me trough those times. I guess it doesnt make sense at all to them since they have been friends with the acted, false me, and when I cant keep it up I'm no longer the person they liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changing... I have tried and tried and tried that too. Honestly I dont think it will be possible. All the times with psychologist I havent really learned anything new about myself. I can point out same things myself too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem is that I need to change the way I react. I need to change my intuition. And after all it's not that my intuition is just wrong. I perceive lots of things correctly and way more accurately than most.&lt;br /&gt;forget this.. i dont feel like trying to make sense of it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115648648112446818?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115648648112446818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115648648112446818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/thinking-through-everything-once-again.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115643870783744535</id><published>2006-08-24T19:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T19:58:27.856+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dont think I'll bother get more medicines after these ones run out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115643870783744535?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115643870783744535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115643870783744535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-dont-think-ill-bother-get-more.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115639970802273930</id><published>2006-08-24T08:59:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T09:08:28.043+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dont think there's many people around me who dont know how I am feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most of them claim to care..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still.. If I would kill myself right now. After couple days some of them would maybe note that I havent contacted them in any way for a while. Or maybe they wouldnt - I dont know. After a week or so someone might actually wonder where I am. Within couple weeks some people might even try to contact me and wonder why I dont answer right away. In a month or so my neighbors would call police because of the rotting smell...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People would feel bad and so on. For some time. After that it wouldnt really make difference to anyones life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual only really important thing that I value in life seems to be the one I will never get.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115639970802273930?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115639970802273930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115639970802273930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-dont-think-theres-many-people-around.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115580350577089369</id><published>2006-08-17T11:20:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T11:31:45.793+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel anxious and awful all the time. I just cant stand it. I cant sit still or focus on doing anything. Anxiety meds help but only for short time - only for couple hours. And I shouldnt even take them every day.  Though I have now for some while taken just as many as I have wanted each day. Who really cares if I become addicted or not? I dont.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant keep this all inside. I end up imagining how I could cut myself open and let all the bad things come out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem is that I dont have anyone left who I could tell how I feel. I feel so lonely but same time if I want to spend time with people I would need to hide what I feel inside. People know Im not ok - that's why they dont try to spend time with me so much anymore. When I contact them, they expect that I would be in a bit better mood or at least not tell them how bad I feel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115580350577089369?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115580350577089369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115580350577089369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-feel-anxious-and-awful-all-time.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115565596539470514</id><published>2006-08-15T18:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T18:32:45.416+03:00</updated><title type='text'>No One To Talk With</title><content type='html'>I really have no one to talk with when I really need it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one knows about my everyday life anymore. No one close to me is interested how I'm doing. If I would kill myself today it would probably take couple weeks at least before anyone would start to wonder where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I will ever have anyone with who I could talk about "anything". I seem to be a great in losing such persons. And it hurts. And I dont want to get hurt more. I'm suffering enough already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115565596539470514?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115565596539470514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115565596539470514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/no-one-to-talk-with.html' title='No One To Talk With'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115562501198190470</id><published>2006-08-15T09:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T09:56:52.006+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel awful... like everyday...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115562501198190470?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115562501198190470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115562501198190470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-feel-awful.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115553855868398148</id><published>2006-08-14T09:50:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T09:55:58.703+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>smoked joint on saturday with couple guys i met in bar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;part of me feels ashamed and bad for it.. rest doesnt care at all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115553855868398148?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115553855868398148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115553855868398148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/smoked-joint-on-saturday-with-couple.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115532081819214306</id><published>2006-08-11T21:26:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T21:26:58.213+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>cant even get drunk without starting to cry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115532081819214306?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115532081819214306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115532081819214306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/cant-even-get-drunk-without-starting.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115529971367172729</id><published>2006-08-11T15:31:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T15:35:13.690+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>every person with who i have been honest and open, have eventually started to dislike my company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cant describe how bad it feels&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115529971367172729?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115529971367172729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115529971367172729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/every-person-with-who-i-have-been.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115519162512496248</id><published>2006-08-10T09:26:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T09:33:45.140+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i call my friend and ask if we could see.. she is too busy.. then my other friend calls her and she immediately cancels what ever else she had&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i sit down with other people.. they talk with each other.. they answer when i ask but they just concentrate on each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my friends wont admit there's anything wrong.. they just have all kinds of excuses why we arent in contact and why we arent close at all anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess they are afraid to say honestly how they feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure they would be friends with my old self.. but not with the sick me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i dont think ill ever be that old self.. too late&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115519162512496248?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115519162512496248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115519162512496248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-call-my-friend-and-ask-if-we-could.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115458857106197434</id><published>2006-08-03T09:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T10:02:51.070+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>im sick of people telling me lies just to avoid having to talk with me or see me... why cant they just honestly say that they dont want be in any contact anymore..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday my friend or ex-friend was too busy to see me when i asked her for a cup of coffee.. later same evening i saw her in a terrace of a restaurant with couple other girls i know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shouldnt be surprised though&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115458857106197434?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115458857106197434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115458857106197434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-sick-of-people-telling-me-lies-just.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115452469503787704</id><published>2006-08-02T16:17:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T16:18:15.050+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>why cant i just kill myself and stop this all... its not going to get any better&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115452469503787704?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115452469503787704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115452469503787704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/08/why-cant-i-just-kill-myself-and-stop.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115311769184886781</id><published>2006-07-17T09:21:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T09:28:11.873+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>im a crappy person...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;worth nothing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i should just sit down in dark corner and stay away from people&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115311769184886781?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115311769184886781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115311769184886781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-crappy-person.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115300206070550698</id><published>2006-07-16T01:19:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T01:21:00.716+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>im not a bad person&lt;br /&gt;i have never ever wanted anything but that i coulf be loved&lt;br /&gt;that i could be like everyone else&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115300206070550698?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115300206070550698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115300206070550698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-not-bad-person-i-have-never-ever.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115296217903035225</id><published>2006-07-15T14:15:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T14:16:19.040+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>yet another day i dont enjoy living&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115296217903035225?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115296217903035225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115296217903035225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/yet-another-day-i-dont-enjoy-living.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115286561400514139</id><published>2006-07-14T11:22:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T11:26:54.016+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i dont even know why to continue writing this blog&lt;br /&gt;everyone are bored with me&lt;br /&gt;i dont think i can ever be cured&lt;br /&gt;maybe with therapy i would learn to hide all of this&lt;br /&gt;just to be what others want to see like i used to&lt;br /&gt;i dont think i can go back to there&lt;br /&gt;and i know well enough that closer people get to me, less they like me&lt;br /&gt;i just start to cry when i think about some people who used to be my friends&lt;br /&gt;now they dont want to see or hear about me anymore&lt;br /&gt;i hate them&lt;br /&gt;i hate them for hurting me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115286561400514139?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115286561400514139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115286561400514139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-dont-even-know-why-to-continue.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115271440163944217</id><published>2006-07-12T17:25:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T17:26:41.650+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>fuck all this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate everything but cant hit anything else except myself&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115271440163944217?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115271440163944217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115271440163944217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/fuck-all-this-i-hate-everything-but.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115270736624891527</id><published>2006-07-12T15:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T15:29:26.260+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is it worse to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... die thinking that there will be people who get hurt and who will miss you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... die thinking there will be no one to get hurt or miss you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115270736624891527?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115270736624891527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115270736624891527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/is-it-worse-to.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115260339131605626</id><published>2006-07-11T10:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T10:36:31.326+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everyday I just hope I would find a proof of being wrong. I guess there's not much chance. Too late to repair some things anymore. It seems Im just sitting and seeing what will happen next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Train went by and I have no idea if another one will come...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115260339131605626?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115260339131605626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115260339131605626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/everyday-i-just-hope-i-would-find.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115253053498011253</id><published>2006-07-10T14:19:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T14:22:14.993+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>im not able to work now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont even plan to finish my studies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont have much friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont really have a clue what im living for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why should i care about anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it doesnt really matter anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is there any sense in living if im not enjoying it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115253053498011253?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115253053498011253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115253053498011253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-not-able-to-work-now-i-dont-even.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115251813502001654</id><published>2006-07-10T10:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T10:55:35.030+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hate this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I hate myself or others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cant hurt others though...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115251813502001654?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115251813502001654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115251813502001654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/hate-this.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115227239190206138</id><published>2006-07-07T14:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T14:39:51.913+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why I always let myself fooled... Why I always think there is something more than there really is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always think Im good friends with someone and I act accordingly. I try to be that good friend. Then at some point I always realize that it's not a real friendship. The other one didnt think it that seriously. The other one just talked with me because at that time it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels crushing. Realizing every single time that the person you took as a good friend, or even possible friend isnt really thinking same about you. Realizing how stupid, silly and naive you have been thinking that you could be a friend for that person. Realizing how they just are amused that you were so deep involved in it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115227239190206138?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115227239190206138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115227239190206138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/why-i-always-let-myself-fooled.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115226691750007341</id><published>2006-07-07T13:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T13:08:37.503+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i want to die but i dont want to kill myself&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115226691750007341?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115226691750007341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115226691750007341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-want-to-die-but-i-dont-want-to-kill.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115226662750440063</id><published>2006-07-07T13:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T13:03:47.516+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Feels awful 24/7. I have dropped outside. I dont belong to anywhere anymore. Alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115226662750440063?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115226662750440063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115226662750440063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/feels-awful-247.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115217709115686914</id><published>2006-07-06T12:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T12:11:31.166+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Havent been much in contact with anyone lately. I have changed couple words with couple people in net. I said hi and thanks to cash register girl in supermarket. Otherwise nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cant meet people. I dont want to lie if they ask how I am. And I dont want to tell the truth either. Not that anyone would like to know it. I bother people with my sickness. It's the fact. Even though they claim otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned off commenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too tired of all this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115217709115686914?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115217709115686914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115217709115686914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/07/havent-been-much-in-contact-with.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115147710150896928</id><published>2006-06-28T09:38:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T09:45:01.520+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel awful and it's not going away. Cant do anything - I dont even feel like doing anything. And doing nothing feels awful too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I have to become so attached to people who in the end dont grow such bond to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking about someone every single day for several months. And she apparently would barely care to quickly chat with me once in a week... But I just cant seem to let go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115147710150896928?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115147710150896928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115147710150896928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-feel-awful-and-its-not-going-away.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115132969829123319</id><published>2006-06-26T16:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T16:48:18.353+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I guess I have couple friends less again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont understand how someone claim to care about and like me but in same time not really wanting to be in any contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about certain persons every day. Several times per day. And I just hurts to know that they want to avoid me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life seems to be in a point of collapsing. People are getting away from me. I cant handle work anymore. I still havent got any therapist or money for it. Im in worse and worse mood and it makes more and more people wanting to avoid me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abandon the sinking ship - me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115132969829123319?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115132969829123319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115132969829123319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-guess-i-have-couple-friends-less.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-115030572371806901</id><published>2006-06-14T20:19:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T20:22:03.726+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Still here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm halfly on a sick leave and halfy at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to get into private therapy lately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-115030572371806901?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115030572371806901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/115030572371806901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/still-here.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114968238518031128</id><published>2006-06-07T15:10:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T15:13:05.190+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel totally broken. Cant think much anything else than harming or killing myself. I feel like sitting in corner and quit medicine and all doctor visits. Just sit and wait will happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114968238518031128?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114968238518031128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114968238518031128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-feel-totally-broken.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114949552512550306</id><published>2006-06-05T11:14:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T11:18:46.300+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>People wont miss me. They will miss the person I used to be. But they will be probably just relieved when Im away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont think those people who know me outside this blog reads this anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114949552512550306?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114949552512550306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114949552512550306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/people-wont-miss-me.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114949418466060138</id><published>2006-06-05T10:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T10:56:26.123+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Im tired of all this... I just feel like giving up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont feel like fighting to get therapy, or trying still other medicines or anything. I dont feel like trying keep social and making people who dont have time or interest to chat with me. I dont feel like trying to keep working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I could just sit at home and wait to see what will happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114949418466060138?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114949418466060138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114949418466060138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-tired-of-all-this.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114881497037314639</id><published>2006-05-28T14:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T14:16:10.386+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The End?</title><content type='html'>Im on a sick leave from work now. More or less. I guess I have to work a bit next day... just to keep project running but otherwise Ill just stay home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems Im not going to continue writing this blog anymore. Somehow I just dont feel like that anymore. In a way I feel this blog has run its course. Maybe. I have to think about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114881497037314639?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114881497037314639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114881497037314639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/end.html' title='The End?'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114716223088675688</id><published>2006-05-09T11:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T11:10:30.896+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Shock</title><content type='html'>I think Im now just beginning to understand in what kind of shock I have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im always afraid of being abandoned. Now it more or less happened for real. Also like my gut feeling always keeps telling when people dont like me or when I bother them or when they wouldnt care to talk with me or know how I am... and now it then happened...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First you are afraid and almost paranoid about something and just tell you are wrong in your feelings. And then you realize that you were right. And that being right is even worse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114716223088675688?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114716223088675688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114716223088675688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/shock.html' title='Shock'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114685559395441778</id><published>2006-05-05T21:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T21:59:54.116+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Kind Of Back</title><content type='html'>I guess I could turn commenting back on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been really bad lately. Had one drinking day this week. After some alcohol I ate all my anxiety meds I had left (maybe 10 or so) as couple didnt help enough. I threw up later and felt very sick through the next night. Nothing harmful. Not really even trying a suicide. Just more like "I dont care" feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least it took anxiety away for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course it came back quickly. Cant seem to get over it now at all. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still havent managed to get new doctor time or psychologist time. So Im just waiting without any idea what will happen next. I went to emergency reception to get more anxiety meds. It worked. So Im more or less in same situation where I was last week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114685559395441778?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114685559395441778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114685559395441778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/kind-of-back.html' title='Kind Of Back'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114674470363956753</id><published>2006-05-04T15:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T15:11:43.650+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just thought I should write that Im still ok... or not ok but alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114674470363956753?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114674470363956753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114674470363956753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-just-thought-i-should-write-that-im.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114668276809539664</id><published>2006-05-03T21:56:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T21:59:28.096+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I turned commenting off. Reason is that I feel like killing myself. I dont want any comments on that. Im not probably doing it. And I dont want anyone to feel responsible for replying or saying anything to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want away...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114668276809539664?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114668276809539664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114668276809539664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-turned-commenting-off.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114665454841687254</id><published>2006-05-03T14:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T14:09:08.426+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth Kills</title><content type='html'>I just want to go numb with meds and alcohol...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels like everything is coming down now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like the illusion I have had has just crumbled away and now I really see the reality. I would like to stop pushing myself to social situations. Just to see if people would try to take contact to me if I dont do it first. How long I would be alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day or two before someone wonders how Im doing? Doubt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Week before people wonder where I have gone? Maybe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Month before someone thinks its weird I have disappeared? Could be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont think I would wait that long though. I think I the truth would kill me faster...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114665454841687254?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114665454841687254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114665454841687254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/truth-kills.html' title='Truth Kills'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114659716470739058</id><published>2006-05-02T22:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T22:12:44.723+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why do I keep on hanging on people who dont care about my company?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114659716470739058?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114659716470739058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114659716470739058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/05/why-do-i-keep-on-hanging-on-people-who.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114608793317563357</id><published>2006-04-27T00:39:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T00:45:33.183+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Week Over Again</title><content type='html'>Feels unreal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran out of anxiety meds and I was couple days totally down. Then I got more of them. I took several immediately when I got home and I slept (or was out) couple hours. When I woke up I was totally clueless where I was and what time it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Im better I think. I hope. I talked with someone who has very same kind of reactions and anxiety problems like I have. She has been in different treatments and therapies soon for 10 years. It was nice and discouraging same time. Nice to meet someone with who I feel I get understood. Discouraging to see how she gets little help from anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114608793317563357?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114608793317563357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114608793317563357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/half-week-over-again.html' title='Half Week Over Again'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114586384238694451</id><published>2006-04-24T10:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T10:30:42.396+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>feels awful and im at work without anxiety meds... dont have any left anymore and i havent even tried to get new doctor time yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cant do anything here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just want to run away and hide somewhere&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114586384238694451?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114586384238694451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114586384238694451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/feels-awful-and-im-at-work-without.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114585932766985265</id><published>2006-04-24T09:12:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T09:15:27.696+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;HATE ME!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114585932766985265?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114585932766985265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114585932766985265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/hate-me-hate-me-hate-me-hate-me-hate.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114537844707613253</id><published>2006-04-18T19:36:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T19:40:47.086+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pains</title><content type='html'>Chest pains and breathing troubles are back.. and almost worse than ever..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quite often have hard time breathing and I  have sharp piercing pain in chest. Last time it wasnt like that but everywhere just hurt badly. Normally its beem more scary than painful when I cant breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took anxiety meds first. Then pain killers and finally some alcohol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114537844707613253?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114537844707613253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114537844707613253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/pains.html' title='Pains'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114467027412304531</id><published>2006-04-10T14:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T14:57:54.146+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Break From Psychologist</title><content type='html'>My psychologist went for some weeks long vacation so next psychologist time moved to over a month away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im not sure if Im happy or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114467027412304531?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114467027412304531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114467027412304531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/break-from-psychologist.html' title='Break From Psychologist'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114459941540898596</id><published>2006-04-09T19:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T19:16:55.440+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Low</title><content type='html'>I dont really have any self-esteem... I try to think otherwise but all the time I end up feeling that I would do a favor for everyone if i would kill myself. Im not really wanting to die. Just that I feel so worthless and that it would so much easier for everyone if I wouldnt be around...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114459941540898596?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114459941540898596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114459941540898596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/feeling-low.html' title='Feeling Low'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114413334008082921</id><published>2006-04-04T09:36:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T09:49:00.110+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Unimportant</title><content type='html'>I spend some time with my parents and my cousins family during weekend. I guess it was nice. I just feel myself an outsider. And I have constantly a feeling that Im mostly just trouble and burden to people. That people are too nice to tell the truth but they would actually feel relieved if I would disappear somewhere - especially if I would disappear with some good reason that wouldnt worry them too much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think most of the people I know would be perfectly happy if they would see me half as often  or less than they have seen me now. It makes it discouraging to try to socialize with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that makes me really sad is how little attention they sometimes pay to me. I mean lately there has been several cases when I for example talk in phone with someone or chat in net and the other one just answers to what I write, not initiating anything. And feel otherwise distant or distracted too. Then when asking they tell are just watching tv or chatting with other people or doing what ever same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like Im way too unimportant or uninteresting for anyone of them to just talk with full attention. Im more like someone to chat with when I dont bother too much more important things - like watching tv or reading emails.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114413334008082921?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114413334008082921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114413334008082921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/04/feeling-unimportant.html' title='Feeling Unimportant'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114362934884329535</id><published>2006-03-29T13:41:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T13:49:08.866+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Skipped Psychologist Today</title><content type='html'>I didnt go to see psychologist today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead I went to shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt a bit better than ever during or after psychologist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114362934884329535?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114362934884329535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114362934884329535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/skipped-psychologist-today.html' title='Skipped Psychologist Today'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114345020449225627</id><published>2006-03-27T11:56:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T12:03:24.503+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Chest Pains</title><content type='html'>Im in pains again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go and get more anxiety meds today... I wish I had a own room at work and I could just close the door and go sit under table or something. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114345020449225627?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114345020449225627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114345020449225627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/chest-pains.html' title='Chest Pains'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114339478938731962</id><published>2006-03-26T20:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T20:39:49.396+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxious</title><content type='html'>Im feeling awfully anxious now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathing is hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll just sit down in some corner and wait that this goes over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont know what else to do anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114339478938731962?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114339478938731962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114339478938731962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/anxious.html' title='Anxious'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114337166156904976</id><published>2006-03-26T13:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T14:14:21.580+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Back From Business Trip</title><content type='html'>I returned from a business trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling so lonely again. Lonely and miserable. If I would die today it would probably take over week before anyone would start to wonder where I am - and that would be at work. Doubt that friends or family would miss me in that time period yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried a lot last night. I ended up thinking that in one way I have been better lately: I havent thought about my funerals very recently. I used to "fantasize" about my own funerals. Weird thing... Not too healthy I bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend didnt hug me yesterday when we saw first time for couple weeks. I was going to hug her but she didnt make any move to hug me so I didnt... we just said "hi" from a meter apart.. talked shortly and that was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurted badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's because I havent been enough in contact with people and just not too good friend lately in any way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drank a lot yesterday. I sat watching tv and just drank. I wanted to get numb but it doesnt work for me. More I drink, more sad I become. Then I took anxiety meds - not much but just enough to pass out. I woke up later and spent half of the night throwing up in bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would want this day just to go past fast but Im not really waiting for tomorrow either...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I dont feel like checking through what I have written now... what does it matter if this makes no sense..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114337166156904976?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114337166156904976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114337166156904976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/back-from-business-trip.html' title='Back From Business Trip'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114242139313297793</id><published>2006-03-15T13:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T13:16:33.133+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Harming Thoughts</title><content type='html'>Lately I have really felt like hurting myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not like wanting pain or such... I feel more like destroying this physical body. Mutilating it. I dont want to die. Or suffer. Just feel like hating my physical self. I dont know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114242139313297793?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114242139313297793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114242139313297793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/harming-thoughts.html' title='Harming Thoughts'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114242124691288301</id><published>2006-03-15T13:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T13:14:06.930+02:00</updated><title type='text'>List of Problems</title><content type='html'>I work 5 days per week but I dont believe I will last to the end of my contract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visit psychologist every week but I dont believe she can help much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eat medicines every day but I dont believe they can cure me permanently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to socialize with people but I dont believe there's hope of restoring old friendships.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114242124691288301?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114242124691288301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114242124691288301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/list-of-problems.html' title='List of Problems'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114180477073291699</id><published>2006-03-08T09:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T09:59:30.743+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Dreams</title><content type='html'>Last night I saw some disturbing dreams...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My left nipple was itching and when I scrathed it the whole tip of it broke off and started to bleed. I dont usually feel any pain in my dreams but this time it hurted a lot. I also had a scar on my lip which itched and when I scrathed it, it got ripped off and teared a stripe of skin all the way to my ear with... My face bled a lot and I had part of face skin hanging loose along the edge of my jaw bone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im not feeling so good today :S&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114180477073291699?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114180477073291699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114180477073291699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/bad-dreams.html' title='Bad Dreams'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114142637032945301</id><published>2006-03-04T00:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T00:52:50.400+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Going On And On</title><content type='html'>I have been somehow emotionally void lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been kind of happy - but not quite. Kind of depressed but not quite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been both stressful and interesting. Stressful as I'm slowly getting loaded with responsibilities but also rewarding as I seem to be doing good job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm regularly visiting psychologist now. One hour every week. I dont know if there is any progress. My psychologist was pretty harsh on me last time. I was shaking and almost crying when I came out. I havent cried much lately and I dont know why it's so hard to cry there. I just need to hold my tears before I get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm desperately seeking attention now. And seeking way to kind of "let bad feelings out". I dont cry on daily basis like I used to. I dont crawl in depression so much. I feel like a train - just going on much without caring what happens or how I feel. I in a way feel like intentionally hurting myself again to be able to somehow grasp it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114142637032945301?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114142637032945301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114142637032945301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/03/going-on-and-on.html' title='Going On And On'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-114076553838044478</id><published>2006-02-24T09:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T09:18:58.393+02:00</updated><title type='text'>About Depression</title><content type='html'>I’m somewhat pissed off as I’m writing this…&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When talking about depression you very often tend to hear comments like “you need to cheer up” (no shit?) and so on. Lots of people feel need to come to you and tell their, usually very aggressive, opinion about depression. And they all seem to have one common thing: they think they know your life and situation so much better than you without even knowing what depression is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;They dont understand that a person with a long term depression is not depressed because s/he is too stupid to cheer up, but because s/he is unable to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Problem with depression is that the symptom and sickness has same name. When you feel down and sad, you are depressed. Usually it will be due some reason and go away quickly (or at least in days or weeks). It is something that can be dealt with “cheering up”.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;However the sickness called depression (I’m not totally familiar with official medical names though) is a bit different. Brain is a huge network of connected neurons. Thinking is a result of electrical messages being transmitted from a neuron to another. Brains can learn and adapt – new connections grow between neurons and old, frequently used ones, grow stronger. Some chemicals affect a lot in both, transmitting signals and growth of connections. &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What happens in long term depression is that brains adapt to depressed state. This means that neural connections that support or participate in depressed state grow stronger and connections participating in non-depressed state get weaker.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In theory it is possible to get over long term depression just by cheering up or thinking positively. It is - if you manage to do it couple years in row. If you are one those who swear in the name of it, do try it yourself: Start now to think positively and do not get sad, stressed, upset, angry or anything until 2008 or so. Then you can come to me and tell that you can cure long term depression by just thinking positively.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Depression has been studied quite a lot lately as science now offers ways to see what happens inside brains. Depression is one of the first things where there have been clear proofs how physical and psychological worlds come together. Most doctors who follow this are seems to agree that difficult depression is best treated with medication and therapy. Also statistics support this.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Most common “anti-depressants” used today are so called ssri-medicines (selective serotonin retake inhibitors). As name suggests they prevent serotonin from leaving brains. They usually have effect on two to three different chemicals in brains and generally help those weak connections (“non-depressed connections”) enabling better signaling and speeding up growth.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The “depressed connections” stay strong for long time – even for years. During that time depression can come back very easily since brains still have all the old connections alive. That again speaks against getting over long term depression since basically all it needs is a one slip and you are back where you started.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One common argument against medicines is that they change who you are or affect your personality. That’s not really the case in common sense. They just affect some chemicals in brains. You still are same person with same experiences and memories. However a depression does change who you are, would be reasonable to think that a medicine has to change something if it helps for depression.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When comparing to other sicknesses that are more familiar to people, it would feel plain stupid if a person with a cancer would be told to “just bear it without help” or “don’t take medicines but wait for your body to heal itself”. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-114076553838044478?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114076553838044478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/114076553838044478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/02/about-depression.html' title='About Depression'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113990390607216710</id><published>2006-02-14T09:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T09:58:26.083+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Day</title><content type='html'>Idea of Valentines Day is to get depressed because no one of friends will remember you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm cynical...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113990390607216710?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113990390607216710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113990390607216710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentines Day'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113981742124460766</id><published>2006-02-13T09:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T09:57:01.256+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>I have been sick lately - stomach pains. I was feeling so sick on Thursday that I almost fainted at work. I went to my parents and stayed there couple days. Apparently I'm getting an ulcer soon... Being regularly anxious must have similar effect on body like stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to try relax a bit and cut down coffee a lot. I dont want to get physically sick too now. I ate one packet of those stomach acid neutralizers - along with third of my anxiety pills and a packet of painkillers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel a bit better but still not normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113981742124460766?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113981742124460766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113981742124460766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/02/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113947507086720714</id><published>2006-02-09T10:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T10:51:11.300+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing It Online</title><content type='html'>Just collected my thoughts about cybering, net sex or whatever you would call it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My "first time" was in one chat room. I was just interested to see how it would go and what it would be like. It wasn’t best possible experience. Just some role-playing of what we would do. I wasn’t really turned on at all. I was more like just writing things I supposed I should have written. It was quite meaningless for me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;After that I got more interested in erotic stories and I tried role-playing in story form. I emailed with a couple different persons and we wrote a chapter or two in turns. It was arousing and fun. It was way more role-playing and way more fun than what my chatting experience was. In chat (it seems to me) it's almost only about describing sex acts. But with this emailing there was a background, lots of things that weren’t related to sex and so on. They made sweet stories.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;However it got boring after a while. It would take much more than weekly cravings for arousal to get a story go on and develop for long time. This emailing thing actually happened when my relationship with one guy was ending. I guess it was motivated by excitement seeking.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After I broke up with him I started to use net more often. I also spend much more time in chats. I tried role-playing couple times but for me it doesn’t do much. I find it more or less boring or even a turn off to write things like "oooh! You lick my pussy so well" - things that aren’t happening, things that wont happen, things I don’t really even want to happen (not with that person anyway).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I like chatting about sex. I love getting aroused and touching myself while chatting. Mutual masturbation while chatting can be really nice. I got quite often into that kind of situations even though it’s hard to find someone for that.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have big issues with my relationship or feelings toward the person I'm chatting with. I tend either to like or dislike strongly. With those who I like I start to develop feelings very easily. With those who I don’t like, I often find it hard to even have a chit chat.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In my experience developing feelings toward someone in net is just stupid. Maybe it’s a natural thing to happen but I have always got hurt. Nowadays I try to keep certain distance and I try to keep it less personal. I try to keep the line so that when I close the computer, there is no “relationship” with that person.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I'm submissive and of course I have tried that online too. For me those have been the most arousing online experiences. And as I don’t like role-playing, it has been mostly directed masturbation. I have done what the other tells me to do. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I have done some really kinky (on my scale anyway) things that way... anal toying, humiliation etc. And I have lived through really strong emotions and feelings. I have been shaking from excitement and tension. I have almost begged to get orgasm. I have felt physical pain too. At best they are experiences that will make you wet for days after thinking about them and make you dream about next time.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;At best (or worst) those have developed into a relationship which has affected to life quite a lot outside that online time too. Not to mention that online time tends to increase a lot in such case.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I said "or worst" because those have also hurt most. For me, there is no long online relationship. I'm very sensitive to how people I like or love act towards me. And in online things there are always a lot of things you need to guess or trust since not being able to talk and communicate face to face always leaves too much hidden. I just can’t handle those.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I guess such online submission is a thing I'm craving for (as I'm totally single now and too often sitting at home alone). But in same time I know that if it works it will develop into some kind of relationship. And I can’t handle those.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And for me submission works in so emotional levels that I don’t know if it’s even possible to have it only as short “sessions” online.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now it sounds like I would have huge experience of online things. Not really true. I actually quite rarely even seek those. Most of times I'm just up for a little chat about interesting things (I'm interested in sex!). And if I get aroused or masturbate I most of the time won’t even tell it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Phone sex is a kind of online thing too. I haven’t much experience in it. I'm pretty poor at phone, even if talking with my friends. I can’t imagine having sex on phone with a stranger. And with those I have been in relationship with, it has always been too easy option to meet instead.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And then there are of course webcams. I have been amazed how many guys want to show themselves in a webcam. And yet I haven’t really watched any of such show. I have once watched briefly a guy jerking off in front of webcam but it had no interaction or didn’t last too long. As an idea it's somehow tickling. However I feel that webcam is way more personal medium. If I could see the guys face I think I would have to like the guy to enjoy the show. In that sense I might prefer just seeing a cock only in a very anonymous manner but then again I'm not sure how much it would do to me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As for myself using a webcam is frightening idea. With a stranger: never. With someone I have feelings for: maybe. When I'm an object of attention - especially very direct attention - I tend to feel very vulnerable and threatened. (In a way that happens in submission and that's why it has a huge emotional impact on me. I believe being submissive is my way to cope that fear is sexual way but that’s another story.) I have masturbated while my partner watches in same room. And it was a very intimate experience for me. I can’t imagine sharing so intimate thing with a stranger or just someone.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This has been a way too long post already but one thing still. There is a problem in online sex for me. Often after sexual satisfaction I would like to cuddle, just feel closeness and enjoy the intimacy there is after sex. But at least for me this cuddling phase requires genuine feelings toward the other. Often what happens after online sex makes me feel a bit disappointed and even lonelier than I was before it. For me it has been a problem I can’t find solution.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And yet I still get times when craving for excitement grows bigger than my past bad experiences. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113947507086720714?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113947507086720714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113947507086720714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/02/doing-it-online.html' title='Doing It Online'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113930080883850586</id><published>2006-02-07T10:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T10:26:48.890+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Update Of Recent Things</title><content type='html'>At work and feeling really depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I threw up yesterday morning. Of course that also removed the antidepressant pill which is slowly dissolving depot-pill. Maybe that is the reason I feel like being overrun by a truck - mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a psychologist finally on last Monday. Havent yet talked about it with anyone. Or written about it. So maybe it's time to try to get it a bit out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The psychologist was pretty grey and dull looking woman. Once again I had to start from very beginning. Explain everything. We talked maybe 50 minutes and she wrote like 10 papers during that time. She has an annoying way to just stare silently with a very skeptic look on her face. And a very annoying way to just ask "why" after everything I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at least now I have half dozen psychologist times. After that I will probably get some therapy times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have felt really lonely lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also felt really submissive... almost masochistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost craving for to be used. Abused. Maybe because I dont want myself to cut or harm myself. Maybe that's why I'm craving for someone else to do it to me. In a sexual way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have basically two "best friends". One of them is someone I have known my whole life. She didnt take me as a bridesmaid when she got married. I felt a bit turned down but I put it away from my mind. We havent been so close lately. I guess it was fair that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got a baby recently. She didnt take me as a godmother for that child. I felt turned down again. Maybe it was because I'm single or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not invited to christening either - because only "closest ones and godfather/mother" are invited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113930080883850586?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113930080883850586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113930080883850586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/02/update-of-recent-things.html' title='Update Of Recent Things'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113813665732201997</id><published>2006-01-24T23:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T23:04:17.336+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fetish Quiz</title><content type='html'>I did this very long &lt;a href="http://www.deviantsdelight.com/fquiz/fetishquiz.html"&gt;fetish quiz&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You prefer mostly females, but some males catch your interest. You tend to be submissive. This will impact the interpretation of your various sexual interests. Possibly left over from your childhood experiences is your interest in spanking. You enjoy the feeling of being slapped, and the burning feeling afterwards. Spanking is not child's play to you. It holds a deep place in your fantasies. You enjoy being humiliated. The thought of humiliation strongly appeals to you, though you may not know why. You enjoy the sensations of various toys on your body. Your interest in sensations can be light or it can get bloody hard -- literally. But you enjoy it all the same. You become aroused when you reveal information about yourself, or perform a sex act in a public or semi-public setting. Your mouth is a sacred area that houses a variety of sensations and desires for you. You enjoy having things in your mouth, and you enjoy teasing your tongue with a variety of different stimulation. Strangers fascinate and interest you, and many of your fantasies either involve strangers or are in their presence. You tend to enjoy sexual activities in groups, such as threesomes or orgies. You may enjoy thoughts of your sexual partner inserting a hand or fist into your body. You like sucking on fingers ... whether they are your own or those of your partner. What else can be said? You enjoy getting yourself off. Don't we all? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dominant    (1 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Submissive    (4 out of 6)&lt;br /&gt;Voyeurism    (3 out of 6)&lt;br /&gt;Clothing    (1 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Feet    (0 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Spanking    (3 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Bondage    (1 out of 3)&lt;br /&gt;Humiliation    (6 out of 7)&lt;br /&gt;Sensation    (5 out of 8)&lt;br /&gt;Anal    (2 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Exhibitionism    (4 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Sleep    (2 out of 7)&lt;br /&gt;Medical    (2 out of 7)&lt;br /&gt;Training    (1 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Food    (2 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Bodyfluids    (2 out of 7)&lt;br /&gt;Roleplaying    (1 out of 6)&lt;br /&gt;Oral    (3 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Objects    (2 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Strangers    (4 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Rape    (2 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Groups    (2 out of 3)&lt;br /&gt;Gagging    (1 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Watersports    (2 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Crushing    (1 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Bestiality    (0 out of 3)&lt;br /&gt;Fisting    (4 out of 5)&lt;br /&gt;Finger sucking    (3 out of 4)&lt;br /&gt;Toe sucking    (1 out of 3)&lt;br /&gt;Masturbation    (3 out of 3)&lt;br /&gt;Asphyxiation    (1 out of 4)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113813665732201997?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113813665732201997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113813665732201997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/fetish-quiz.html' title='Fetish Quiz'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113757571179115788</id><published>2006-01-18T11:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T11:15:11.806+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Chest Pains</title><content type='html'>I woke up last night in hard chest pains and I couldnt breath at all for a moment. It took really long to be able to breath normally and painlessly again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wasnt first time but it's always really scary to wake and not be able breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm at work but I feel like going to home. I dont feel all that well physically... and I guess not mentally either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113757571179115788?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113757571179115788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113757571179115788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/chest-pains.html' title='Chest Pains'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113724877616322755</id><published>2006-01-14T16:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-14T16:26:17.666+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday</title><content type='html'>I'm probably just awfully bad friend myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed really important exam again because of anxiety...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wont take long before I'm out of anxiety meds. I maybe should take smaller doses with alcohol to make them last longer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113724877616322755?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113724877616322755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113724877616322755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/saturday.html' title='Saturday'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113699433052633416</id><published>2006-01-11T17:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T17:45:30.606+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cocks</title><content type='html'>I feel totally messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind obsessed with cocks again (this isnt the reason why I feel messed up). Cocks are interesting. Kind of mystical. At the moment I would love to play with one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have to say, I mostly think about giving a blowjob. One could think that after being with girls so long I would miss intercourse with guys - but I actually dont at all. But I would love to face-to-"face" with a penis. Funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll go to browse net...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113699433052633416?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113699433052633416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113699433052633416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/cocks.html' title='Cocks'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113636666332434576</id><published>2006-01-04T11:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T11:24:23.380+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting For An Anxiety Attack</title><content type='html'>Feeling anxious again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just the feeling I have before getting a proper anxiety attack. It's like knowing that something bad will happen but there's no way preventing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have work to do but I feel more like throwing up any minute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113636666332434576?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113636666332434576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113636666332434576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/waiting-for-anxiety-attack.html' title='Waiting For An Anxiety Attack'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113627426170664723</id><published>2006-01-03T09:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T09:49:34.850+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-analysis</title><content type='html'>Here's how I currently see myself. This is really hard to put as I feel I can more easily point what is wrong in some statement about me than what is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the biggest problem with me is understanding how people show emotions and intentions. How do you know if someone care about you or not? Through how people act toward you, what they say and how and when. And it happens pretty intuitively. I don't know if it's learned or inherited but we all have kind of "expectations" how other persons should react to situations depending on their inner feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like imagine your mother getting so demented that she doesn't remember you at all. When you say "hi", she might respond with "hi" but without same kind of reaction you expect. You wouldn't get hurt because she doesn't say something precisely something, or because she doesn't act precisely in some way but because you get a feeling that she doesn't have any feelings toward you. Now assume that with this situation she would still claim to remember you and love you - no matter how much your brains would tell otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is a bit how it is with me. People don't react in a way I expect they should if they would have certain feelings toward me. That's why I feel hurt so often. It's often that someone can claim to like me and next moment I sense total void in their reactions "emotional content".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not stupid. I understand that I get people's reactions wrong. But if you all the time feel you are being fooled you are likely to believe it some point. Also sensing that something is wrong makes you try to figure out what it is. With me it usually means trying to provoke those reactions I expect to see. That is why I often very strongly state how I feel. I think I believe that if I would very clearly show how I feel, other people would do so too. And then I could maybe see what I expect to see and it would help my insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just rarely works. Often it leads to almost paranoid chase of trying find what I want. I try to find a proof to either way. I would need constant reassuring to keep me believing against what I intuitively feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or actually I don't know if I just understand things wrong or if I'm too sensitive to what I feel. Often when if what someone says and what I expect to see meets it feels overwhelming. Like going off the scale. Most of times it happens when someone either loves or hates me and shows it clearly. Sadly it feels that latter is almost more common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being too sensitive would make sense also because being honest you aren't always happy to see someone - even if you would like that person. Or you might be busy or tired or something else. But you aren't all the time very happy to see anyone you like. It is possible that I'm just way too sensitive to these. Maybe I'm not totally wrong in when I feel that "no one cares about me". I just don't have idea of the magnitude. Maybe in reality it was "we are not too thrilled to see you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course people don't usually admit such things. It's not polite to say to people that you don't want to see them at the moment - you rather tell excuses, little white lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So either way, same results. The feeling I get people doest match what they say. It makes me almost paranoid in trying to see the "truth" in people and it eats away anything I have felt before. I can be very convinced about someone one moment but if wont last if I keep getting contradictory feelings. It also makes me very insecure because most of times I feel that people in reality are more negative toward me than they claim to be. It's like being ugly and seeing it in mirror (what else are peoples reactions than a social mirror) while everyone just are too polite to admit it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113627426170664723?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113627426170664723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113627426170664723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2006/01/self-analysis.html' title='Self-analysis'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113602412728377058</id><published>2005-12-31T12:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T12:15:27.516+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Abuse</title><content type='html'>I think I'm so angry because I partly feel that people around me abuse my weakness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one needs to admit doing anything wrong. They just need to act like they don't like me or ignore me for a while and I will be begging them to forgive me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113602412728377058?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113602412728377058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113602412728377058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/abuse.html' title='Abuse'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113585158450418504</id><published>2005-12-29T12:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T12:19:44.516+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Slavery</title><content type='html'>I have been swinging between depression and extreme anger. I cant let it out in any way. I guess that's why I feel like hurting myself. I'm just not hurted and angry. I'm boiling inside. But I cant really let it out. It would only make things worse. Even when I let it out in slightest bits people get angry at me and tell I'm blaming them and not fair and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess only option is just to keep everything inside and act like everything would be good. As long as I please others and take all blame myself and apologize everyone they will tolerate me. I dont even remember when someone would have admitted to be even partially faulty in any situation where I have got hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if I could understand what's really the use in living this way... This is a kind of slavery... I need people who dont need me. I have no rights.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113585158450418504?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113585158450418504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113585158450418504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/slavery.html' title='Slavery'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113577137333298435</id><published>2005-12-28T13:51:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T14:02:53.343+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-Harming</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Self-harming is...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;for most people a way of dealing with great emotional pain. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;another coping mechanism in the same way like drinking, drugs and gambling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Self-harmers have...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;low self-esteem. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;poor physical self image. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;painful experiences in childhood. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;experiences of being neglected or abused. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;experiences of a chaotic family background. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;experiences of physical or emotional cruelty. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Self-harming...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;releases unbearable tension caused by anxiety, grief or anger.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;puts pain 'outside' where it's tangible and easier to cope with. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;relieves feelings of shame or guilt. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tells people, including themselves, they need help. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;helps to feel real and alive.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;helps to feel having control over something in own life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113577137333298435?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113577137333298435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113577137333298435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/self-harming.html' title='Self-Harming'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113569033680134732</id><published>2005-12-27T15:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T15:32:16.813+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry</title><content type='html'>I'm angry... angry for always getting hurted and always having to feel quilty for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe hurting myself is taking out that anger. Taking it out on someone who is generally seen as the source of all bad things - me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this wont lead to anything or solve anything. My personality wont change no matter how hard I hit myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113569033680134732?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113569033680134732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113569033680134732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/angry_27.html' title='Angry'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113542111871821790</id><published>2005-12-24T12:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T12:45:19.726+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting Out The Bad Blood</title><content type='html'>Cut myself yesterday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't hurt like I thought it would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking now how letting out blood is actually a really old form of treatment. "Letting out the bad blood" to cure sickness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess nothing to do with this though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Christmas now... Merry Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113542111871821790?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113542111871821790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113542111871821790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/letting-out-bad-blood.html' title='Letting Out The Bad Blood'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113532675650337287</id><published>2005-12-23T10:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T10:32:36.536+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is going a bit too far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually thinking how bad I would need to get injured to end up in hospital and that way avoid going to my parents tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to somehow stop this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113532675650337287?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532675650337287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532675650337287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/this-is-going-bit-too-far.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113532605560825737</id><published>2005-12-23T10:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T10:20:56.063+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday</title><content type='html'>I dont know how to write about this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurted H yesterday. She didnt even answer to my apologies after that. She knows this blog so it's a bit hard to write about this here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried whole last night. I have been crying today too. I'm totally lost with what I should think or feel now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spend 12 hours at work and university yesterday. I should do about same today. I havent even started yet. I guess I wont. I'm just sliding through different feelings without being able to grasp a single rational thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to think about some excuse so that I wouldnt need to go to my parents tomorrow. I cant go there and cry all the time and ruin everyones christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113532605560825737?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532605560825737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532605560825737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/friday.html' title='Friday'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113532410482669550</id><published>2005-12-23T09:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T09:49:44.933+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugly Mind</title><content type='html'>If I hurt someone, even if I dont mean it, I apologize - it's my fault.&lt;br /&gt;If someone hurts me, even if that person doesnt mean it, I apologize - it's my fault.&lt;br /&gt;If someone criticizes me, it's because I do something wrong - it's my fault.&lt;br /&gt;If I criticize someone, it's blaming and wrong - it's my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish this would be more about letting out my sad mood than the actual truth about how it goes in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just shouldnt do anything because it's always my fault. I'm always 100% guilty to everything. Me alone. I'm just sick, stupid, ignorant... bad person in every way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would anyone ever be with a person like me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113532410482669550?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532410482669550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113532410482669550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/ugly-mind.html' title='Ugly Mind'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113528557242398737</id><published>2005-12-22T23:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T23:06:12.436+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm an awful person...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would prolly get a medal for committing a suicide...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113528557242398737?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113528557242398737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113528557242398737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/im-awful-person.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113527754908690301</id><published>2005-12-22T20:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T20:52:29.100+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyrics</title><content type='html'>Björk sings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You'll be given love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;you'll be taken care of&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;you'll be given love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;you have to trust it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe not from the sources&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;you have poured yours&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe not from the directions&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;you are staring at&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Trust your head around&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;it's all around you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;all is full of love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;all around you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All is full of love : you just ain't receiving&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All is full of love : your phone is off the hook&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All is full of love : your doors are all shut&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113527754908690301?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113527754908690301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113527754908690301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/lyrics.html' title='Lyrics'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113457462351183672</id><published>2005-12-14T17:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T17:37:03.523+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Feels so bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'll be really depressed and down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And none of the people I have tried to talk with today, will try to talk with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113457462351183672?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113457462351183672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113457462351183672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/feels-so-bad.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113457050369296861</id><published>2005-12-14T16:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T16:28:23.826+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Headache</title><content type='html'>I have a headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm disappointed and feel turned down again. Like almost every day. How could I get better when I feel I get hammered down every time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm so fed up everything being my fault. If I dont have strength to go out, it's my fault. If I get hurted in something, it's my fault. If I expect something, it's my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels my life has two rules "expect and demand nothing" and "forgive everything". I should always keep all the bad feelings and disappointments in myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm just totally broken with it. I think I have had some kind of break down or burn out with this. Too much stress, anxiety, depression, disappointments... I dont really care anymore. I wont be able to cheer up or show "normal" face outwards. I'm just a wreckage now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113457050369296861?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113457050369296861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113457050369296861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/headache.html' title='Headache'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113438252729873677</id><published>2005-12-12T12:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T12:15:27.316+02:00</updated><title type='text'>New Medicine, New Hope</title><content type='html'>It's probably not hard to see that couple last days were difficult...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also were going to turn of comments too in this blog. I'm glad I didnt. Somehow it was relieving to see comments. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took first new antidepressant last evening. (It should be taken with a meal so I thought after dinner would be best.) Result was that I slept quite poorly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I'm imagining but I feel more sharp and energic again. I have slight headache and nausea but far less than when I started my first antidepressant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels a bit sad though that whole weekend got wasted. Actually I sat whole weekend at home. Most of the time just crying. And I played Sims 2... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a nice house, filled it with good looking men and women, made them fall in love and fuck each other. And then I drowned them all in swimming pool. It made me feel a bit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I masturbated all the time. I think I got at least 6 orgasms which isnt too easy for someone who never get multiple ones. Then I got fed up and threw my vibrator away. Didnt like it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an exam today. I havent read at all. I'm not actually even going there. I'm not going to graduate within a year. Which makes what I have told at work more or less bullshit. Well... I dont really care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113438252729873677?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113438252729873677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113438252729873677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-medicine-new-hope.html' title='New Medicine, New Hope'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113424597774909254</id><published>2005-12-10T22:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-10T22:19:37.760+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry</title><content type='html'>Why do I even keep writing this blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont really believe that I will get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly when I talk about being lonely I get suggested that I should go to "talk with someone else". No one really wants to talk with me themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nowadays when I see someone is online in msn messenger I just say "hi" and close the window right away. Most of time I wont get any answer anyway so no use keeping the window open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would think my friends know that I have now supposely very difficult time. I just feel like crawling to the corner and wait it this all is over. I think most of friends hope I do that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know even why I keep writing "friends"... I feel totally alienated from people. Why do I actually even have my messenger on every day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should "go out and meet new people" and "cheer up" and "fight" and so on. Why? Would it make me feel better if I would meet 10 new people who then become my friends and who then try to avoid me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113424597774909254?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113424597774909254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113424597774909254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/angry.html' title='Angry'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113422354455768740</id><published>2005-12-10T16:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-10T16:05:46.166+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Worthless</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling physically sick too today. Nausea and weird head aches - just sudden jolts in head. I'm craving to eat something but same time I feel like throwing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm probably more calmed down too today. Just feeling really worthless and low. A feeling a bit like waking up and realizing that everything good was just a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont think I'll manage to call or visit anyone. I doubt anyone will call or visit me either. I guess next time I talk with someone on Monday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113422354455768740?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113422354455768740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113422354455768740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/worthless.html' title='Worthless'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113411398987168114</id><published>2005-12-09T09:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T09:39:49.883+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Orgasms</title><content type='html'>Something good in not being on antidepressants: I get orgasms easily again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two this morning already. I dont feel like holding back at all now. Some comfort at least.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113411398987168114?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113411398987168114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113411398987168114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/orgasms.html' title='Orgasms'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113404076663328141</id><published>2005-12-08T13:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T13:19:26.633+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I only want to crawl to some corner and wait that I wake up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113404076663328141?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113404076663328141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113404076663328141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-only-want-to-crawl-to-some-corner.html' title=''/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113404011720383748</id><published>2005-12-08T12:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T13:08:37.220+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Boring Things Again</title><content type='html'>I have decided to leave.&lt;br /&gt;- "Good."&lt;br /&gt;We probably wont see each other so much anymore...&lt;br /&gt;- "Ok."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;- "I need to go. Byes."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I always think that when someone claims to be my friend it would mean same as my idea of being "friends"? I use hours and hours trying to explain why I would need some kind of special treatment and thinking that if someone really sees me as a friend they could do that for me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just small extra things to say to help me feel secure. Just small actions to show that they care because I'm totally unable to remember it. But it's always too much. I'm always wrong even wanting such things. I'm wrong if I get hurted by such things. I'm wrong even in writing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often feel that friendships are "take it or leave it" things. My only options are to be alone or to just accept that I wont get what I want. I'm not important or good enough for anyone for them to treat me in a different way than they treat other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it all comes to me being incompatible with people.&lt;br /&gt;I'm somehow broken inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113404011720383748?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113404011720383748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113404011720383748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/same-boring-things-again.html' title='Same Boring Things Again'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113403775465189423</id><published>2005-12-08T12:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T12:29:14.663+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Missed Doctor Appointment</title><content type='html'>Meeting in work went badly overtime... I missed my doctor appointment... So I didnt get new antidepressants or more anxiety medicines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is going to hell now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113403775465189423?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113403775465189423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113403775465189423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/missed-doctor-appointment.html' title='Missed Doctor Appointment'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113402534598609237</id><published>2005-12-08T08:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T09:02:26.003+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Faulty</title><content type='html'>No one said "lets keep in contact"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm sick, bad, faulty and everything to ever even to expect such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113402534598609237?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113402534598609237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113402534598609237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/faulty.html' title='Faulty'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113397435600160633</id><published>2005-12-07T18:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T18:52:36.016+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Awful</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling so awful it's unreal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have told everyplace that I'm off for a sick leave or something similar and without telling when I'll be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant watch tv. I cant read. I cant play anything. I cant even sit still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have anxiety medicines but I have them for taking 1-2 pills couple times in a week. I took 4 or 5 yesterday alone. I'm out of them any day now. When I'm anxious the 2 pills doesnt make any difference. But I dont think I will get anything stronger. Maybe they are afraid that I do suicide with them. Shouldnt they rather care that I dont do suicide without them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish it would be tomorrow or next week and all this would be over already...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113397435600160633?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113397435600160633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113397435600160633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/feeling-awful.html' title='Feeling Awful'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113395731165645841</id><published>2005-12-07T14:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T14:08:31.666+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>I dont know any english words to describe this...&lt;br /&gt;I have to consider about getting hospitalized.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113395731165645841?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113395731165645841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113395731165645841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/broken.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113394050374730152</id><published>2005-12-07T09:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T09:28:23.810+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cant think any title...</title><content type='html'>I'm now without any antidepressants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel I have a lot to say but I cant seem to write anything fancy now... I was very anxious yesterday. All the normal breathing difficulties and chest pains but also now feeling like limbs would freeze. My right arm felt really numb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in bathroom with knife. I wasnt going to hurt myself in anyway. Though I almost fantasized about it. But just having the knife and not using it was somehow comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I took the maximum dose of anxiety medicine + some extra and managed to get sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113394050374730152?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113394050374730152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113394050374730152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/12/cant-think-any-title.html' title='Cant think any title...'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8884182.post-113326662062548469</id><published>2005-11-29T14:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T14:17:00.636+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Day (Again)</title><content type='html'>One horrible day again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels just like I felt so often before any medication. I cant understand how I didnt get help sooner already... how I didnt even think depression or anything. How I just hid it. Only important thing was that no one knew...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8884182-113326662062548469?l=rakastuja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113326662062548469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8884182/posts/default/113326662062548469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rakastuja.blogspot.com/2005/11/bad-day-again.html' title='Bad Day (Again)'/><author><name>rakastuja</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15114596334932316814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img257.echo.cx/img257/2083/nudeartback0sh.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
