I am feeling somewhat empty at the moment. I porobably have some thoughts and worries, but I cannot really get a hold of them. They just float somewhere around me, touching my consciousness every now and then, but slipping away as soon as I try to examine them. Some flickering thoughts here and there, but nothing on my mind really, nothing to think.

It feels kind of easy to be, considering everything. Somewhere behind my eyes I have these worries and thoughts, but somehow I manage to ignore all of them. I just am. I am awake, I get dressed, I feed the litlle one, I sing songs and smile and wash the dishes, but I do not think. I do not have to. I have stopped. I seems to be the case that I live as I always do and do everything I should, but at the same time, I rest. Apparently I have stopped but everything else keeps going on, even me.

Maybe I am asleep, at least that is what this feels like. Maybe my mind sleeps and rests, after everything that has been.

I do not mind, though. I feel really calm and surreal.

I have had some drawbacks. Especially today. I do not mean those drawbacks that steal her away from me and degrade me into something grey and silent, but those that slow me down and make me sad.

Of course I have been tired and depressed before. Exhausted and unable to proceed with anything. But that has usually been the case only because I have slept too little, and I have always acknowledged it. Knowing why I am sad and how it will go away makes depression fairly easy, and even though it has been pretty severe every once in a while, it has also been shallow. As if I was physically ill and knew that after some time I will heal. But now, for the first time, I have had a "God, this is all there is?" -feeling. The feeling, however, is not directly aimed at my own life, but at everyone else as well.

Everything feels so difficult and wrong. As if I was supposed to be something that I am not, that there is something wrong with me and my family and my life even though we are doing fine. As if we were to do and be something else. In a way, I feel that we are really alone but not left alone. No one cares to take care of us or support us (and I do not mean financially), but they still have the guts to annoyingly comment on our way of life, our home and our choices. They recquire us to pay visits and they buy unnecessary things for the little one who they adore, but then again turn their backs when the poor thing's parents would need help, even though it was about their (mental) health.

Criticism. Whatever you do, that is what you get from our relatives. Whatever you try, whatever you think, what ever you choose, whatever you need. I wonder if all this is supposed to be some type of lesson for us for doing something wrong or being wrong, once again...

However, other people, those that make other choices, do not seem to be any happier. Everyone hurries fast with their lives, real fast. No one sees or hears anything important, no one ever smiles. They just follow some kind of lead. Or at least that is what we are supposed to do. Graduate in time, work as much as you can, look good, spend money, have a wedding, a family, a house and a car, work work work and spend spend spend. Hurry hurry, stay healthy, succeed in everything you do and make sure that everyone knows that you have succeedes, be an individual - it is all about you!

Those who do otherwise might acutally have real lives. But it is, of course, somewhat difficult to try to connect, share, slow down and love when you are alone. And especially to start doing that in the middle of a situation where you would already need some help and understanding... Maybe I am living in the wrong country (what a terrible thing to say on the day of independence, woops!).

All in all, the most awful thing that makes me blue is the unhappyness of my love. I have to dedicate an entire post for writing about my love and everything connected to him, but let's just state here that no matter how exhausted, tired and ready to give up I have felt during this time, nothing is more painful than seeing my love feeling as depressed and desperate as he did today.

So today I have been extremely blue. Crying. Being unable to focus or function. Being tired of every single difficulty that I need to face every day, as well as all the pressure, all the worry. Things are not bad, no, but all the small things put together feels too much to handle, especially when I cannot see anything getting easier in the near future - quite the opposite. I really need a break, I really need someone to help me with life, I really need someone to give me time, letting me do all the sickly important things that I should but cannot do on my own, with the little one with me all the time. I need someone to help my love, because at this state of mind I am unable to do it myself. Yes. I shouted at the little one today, and ran from the room in order to prevent myself from pushing him off the couch. Wtf.

Blue lips, blue veins. Blue, the colour of our planet from far, far away.

Blue. The most human colour.

The red of my hair is insanely perfect for all this. It is in my eyes - not the red but the magic it lightened up. It all looks like a new transition. This is all witchcraft, I tell you.

All in all, the change has continued during this time I have not been writing about it. I have, for instance, bled for the first time after a year and a half, and it feels good to have my hormones with me again. In a way, I really like it how it all works. I like the feeling of being fertile, I like the way it all makes time go in cycles instead of moving forward in a linear way, towards some kind of "End". Of course there is also a feeling of an end, because all the ache and being conscious of the time reminds me of how after every cycle I am that much older and how, in a way, a possibility to create new life is lost every time it happens, even though it is the possibility itself, that makes me proud of my body. But that is not what I intended to write about today.

I intended to write about sex. Although I am not yet sure how to do it, and to what extend I am willing to share my thoughts about it. But let's just start with stating that sex is also something that comes and goes with me, and her, and us (<-- if this does not make sense, you should read my previous posts to understand what I mean). I mean, there is always some interest to it, but, to be honest, it might get somewhat rare and shallow compared to other times, when everything connected to it is deep, creative and energetic.

I have always liked it. From a very young age I have dreamt about it. When I was a teenager I had, for a while, a boyfriend, whom I at some point kept only because I wanted and needed to have sex regularly, and the sex with him was good enough, even though the boy himself was often really annoying and a true mismatch for me.

After him I met my first love and understood why sex with true feelings is better than some without them. Making love. Yes. He was a sweet boy and I really loved him, but we were very different in erotic sense. He was such a good boy, so careful and gentle,always asking me if he was doing everything right. And I, well, deep inside I wanted something different. A couple of times we talked about it, but we did not really get anywhere with it, which was somewhat frustrating. I wanted to experience and explore, I wanted passion and exhaustion, I wanted everything. It was all so much more important to me. If it had been up to him, I believe we would have done it quite rarely and without much variation. Who knows.

Then there is my love. He is perfect for me in every sense, including this one. Sometimes I feel that I might be a bit too much for even him to handle, but he always suprises me and takes part in my games or lets me play be myself, watching with interest. He seems to understand everything that needs to be understood.

However, when I lack her in me and become grey, I also have a habit of forgetting about sex, at least to some extent. I do not do it much, and I do not miss it, and this had also been the case during great sections of last summer and autumn. Well, it has definitely changed now, which means that I really am returning, finding myself again, waking up, becoming alive. It is probably different for many, but for me this is huge. To me, relationship to sex is a major factor of happiness in life. It cannot be denied that it definitely affects who I am. And sex, if anything, is witchcraft, that will for sure lighten up even more magic than this red of my hair.

Last time I wrote that I have been walking alone for a change. Sure I have been feeling alone all along, for the most part, as without a company, but I have not been free from eveything, free to really think my own thoughts without other responsibilities. No, I have been watching over, taking care, looking after, worrying, thinking, loving. My mind has been in something more important than me. The little one has been with me all the time, all nights and days, never many meters away, without just a few occasions, two hours here, three hours there. My dedication and engagement to the sweet symbiosis plays a great part in everything.

I would not change it to anything. I regret nothing and my love for the little one is insanely deep and complete. But the symbiosis is over and I am on my own again. He grew away from me and I was facing the world again, not remembering what I was and how I should live my life now.

I just have to underline the fact that the time was beautiful, all of it. And it still is - everything that has to do with the little one is perfect. I think I was perfect myself for the most of it, because it continued to be this incredible dream-come-true-type of magical experience right from the start. I was made to be pregnant, we were meant to have this beautiful baby and let our lives to be changed forever. This cannot, in fact, even be decribed in words, but let's just say that everything was unimaginably perfect. The pregnancy, the birth, the symbiosis. I had dreamed of it, but it was still unexpected how overwhelming the love and the connection with the new human being could be. It was just perfect to have the little one near me. It was just perfect to get to know him and to get lost in the warm and milky world of cozyness for a while.

Yes, it was interesting to live in the deep symbiosis for the first months. I had really looked forward to it and was happy to throw myself into taking care of my offspring as it is meant to be done. It was all very natural and I did everything on the basis of my instincts. We slept side by side under the same blanket, I successfully (breast)fed him according to his own rhythm and we held him a lot, carried him around with us all the time, so that he was rarely alone anywhere. It all felt so right. Of course I needed more sleep, our home quickly became a total mess due to the unwashed dishes and other forgotten chores, I did not look too fresh and I had no interest of being very social or active, but during the time I always remembered that it was just a phase, something really precious, that would be over before I know it. And now, to be honest, I do not regret anything. I lived it perfectly and I could not have enjoyed it more.

Now the times are a bit different when the little one has grown, but the traces of the beginning still affect everything. Everything is and remains good because the beginning was perfect. Maybe I am still perfect enough, in that sense, even though these times lack some of the magic that the earlier times had, and even though I have now come to have these problems of my own, that do not directly relate to what I am to him.

I often lie on the floor and count the few stretch marks I have on my hips, remembering the sweetness of everything that was. It is all written in Braille upon my skin, so that I can never forget. How sweet is that.

I have watched you change today, girl, I have watched the change in you. What you did was the right thing to do, without a doubt. It is good to see you feeling so alive. And it feels good to look into your eyes from the mirror. I am changing.

Hmm. Who is talking about whom, or is someone talking about herself? I, you, we, she,..? Well, I think we have already arrived at the point where the subject of these sentences can be "I", at least for the most part. Of course it will be different when I am referring to some past events or something very general, for clarity's sake, but from now on I am going to start writing about myself.

Today I dyed my hair. The colour is strong and intense, something I had never had before: a screaming red. My hair is long, thick and straight, and the red looks really powerful and makes people turn their heads when I walk by. The difference to my old hair is incredible. The colour had for long been some light, greyish brown, so natural that it made me completely invisible and so plain that it swallowed all the light from my eyes. The neutral look has been with me many times before, at times when I have also been in a way alone, sad, lost, silent, restricted and suffocating. This red hair makes me look the complete opposite, and that is also where I am aiming with my mind and existence.

Somewhere in my past I had an insanely cute black hair. That time I was beautiful, powerful, impulsive, young. People wanted me and wanted to be me. I seemed to know who I was and what I wanted to do. And I did it, too. I succeeded in everything I wanted to succeed in, I was invincible. Another time I had a bold, short, blond hair. That time I was deeply in love with my love, I was romantic and artistic, and I was pretty, pale and eventually very thin. I wore weird clothes and felt that I did not need to be anything else than what I already was. I felt capable and interesting. Even the short, dark brown hair after the blond one was a nice one, at least for a while. I do not remember what happened then, but at some point I became neutral again. The one hiding. The one I had been also before the blond hair, before the summer when my life changed as I fell in love with my love.

Ah, I really should look up some photographs to illustrate these changes! Even if you ignore the hair, you would see the changes in my eyes!

And how are my eyes looking like now? Well, I think I am finding it all again. In addition to the unexpected red in my hair, I have also spent some time listening to the old music (in contrast to listening no music at all, like it has been for a few months now), reading my old writings (painful but fun) and walking outside, alone, for a change. I am still tired and my life is still as messy as it has been for long now, but it cannot be denied that I am waking up. And who knows where it might lead me this time.

And now it is my turn, I suppose. I know that I had something in my mind that I was going to write, some sensible things, some reasoning, which I have used in getting me in this situation in the first place, but it all seems to be gone. It does not make sense anymore, not in the way it did. The change has begun and I have already let her engage with my life and mind, and - in consequence - it is far more difficult for me to try to collect the thoughts that I had before. So do not expect me to have any exquisite conclusions and detailed lists of excuses for any actions I have (or have not) made, because I just cannot remember these things anymore, now that she's around (which might actually be a positive thing, considering everything).

It had been a while, really. It had been some time from the last time we were together, and the time changed me, along with everything else. And where did it get me? Was I happy without her?

Well. I could not hold my head up high. I could not be sure of anything. I felt that I was forced to be neutral, grey, calm, silent, away from everyone and without opinions, or I would go and f*ck things up just like I always do (or do I, really? This is something I need to get back to, when the time is right). Anyway, that is what I felt. I felt that I could not do anything. Anything at all! I barely managed to live through days.I was very restricted when I spoke to people, the few times I did, and even then I had a certain role I seemed to play. I often looked like someone living on the streets, because I was not able to see myself from others' viewpoint, let alone do anything about it, whereas the next day it would crush me to acknowledge all the burning eyes on me, when staying at home felt like the safest option...

Oh, wait! Now several events and times are getting mixed in my head. On one hand I am talking about all the times in my life when she has been away, and on the other I am thinking about this last time, this last spring and summer and autumn, which, in a way, differ greatly from all the previous times and which I will write more about in some other occasion. All in all, also this time I eventually ended up in a situation similar to all the rest, so maybe I should try to focus on the more general problems I have had. Hmh.

Now, why do I get so scared, restricted and undecided in general?

Well, at least I am really afraid of being wrong. Whenever she is around, I get so easily excited about all kinds of things. And when I am in the mood, I want to spread the word and really take the new thing as a part of my personality. I start to see myself first and foremost as a fat-eater, a goth, a pro-ana, a lucid dreamer, a messenger of a certain political or ethical view, an artist, a bisexual. Just about anything. After some time I realise that I have gone too far, that I have thrown myself into something that I will later regret. The politics change and the view I thought was right becomes the most loathed one. My art is poor and embarrassing and it kills me to understand that other people can look at it and think that this is as far as I can get with my poor creativity. I cannot look weird or have weird hobbies because of what I am in a professional sense. A piercer or an artist can be just about anything, but the space for me is really narrow and the choices few. I even should not have anything too interesting in my history. And therefore it sickens me, that the Internet is full of all kinds of things I have written as a young girl having a strong illusion, that in the Net you will remain anonymous no matter what you did.

The another thing actually relates to my past. As a girl, living at my childhood home with my parents and my two sisters, I learned that I was usually wrong. My mum and especially my older sister made fun of me all the time. They laughed at my hobbies, my interests, the way I dressed, the music I listened. I quickly started to do everything in secrecy, but it just made it worse, since then they might go through my secret drawers and see my secret writings and drawings. According to them, being creative in any way was childish and stupid. And me, the poor girl who drew her heart out and wrote her dreams and passions in the secret notebooks, was slowly crushed. Fine, I thought. If they hate to see me meditating or reading books, maybe they leave me alone if I act like a normal teenager and, for instance, get drunk on Friday nights. And I did. And they did.

As a result from these, I have again been really reluctant of doing anything. I have a strong need for things, but I cannot do them. I long to be creative and I long to look like something instead of this nothing that I look like at the moment. But I have no courage to throw myself into anything, not even now, when I have been shrinking so bad that I barely exist. It really has been a while now, and this is getting worse by the minute. I really cannot continue like this. And that is why I started writing Syndromeia.

By the way. Before we get anywhere with this writing, I need to tell you that this is as painful as everything else. This is also difficult, and it will get more difficult in time. Well yes, in a way it will also get easier, but reading the things I have written will be at least as painful as it has been so far with every written word in my life. As it is with every drawing, every opinion, every act and look. But that is part of the process, that is part of the healing. This time the writing might well be the most difficult of all - considering my current age and status, my responsibilities, the language I am using, and so on - but it might be the most useful, too.

And even though I started with "by the way", we are, in fact, quite precisely in the essence of everything with this theme. Because this "everything being so difficult" is the problem. I will later get back to the issue of what the "difficult" means here.

But hear me out, girl! You know that these restrictions are something you have grown into. Whenever I have been in the picture, you have had more courage, more fun, more personality, more everything. More dreams. But on the other hand, to be honest, together we lack some sense. We act before thinking, we throw ourselves into things that we should not, we forget about consequences. And then you push me away and get insanely humiliated by everything we did. You stay awake nights worrying all the potential harm we did. You regret everything in such a way that it almost breaks your heart. You regret that, for once, you lived, and in the process gave a piece of yourselve to the world. You believe that no matter what, it will be used against you, one way or another. And of course you might be right, and that is what scares you and helps you keep me away.

So what is missing here is the balance, that is for sure.

Next time I will give you the stage here. I will stay back and let you write your heart out. We both know already in advance that you will end up to the conclusion that you need me and cannot live without me, but I think that it will be useful for you to be able to convey your thoughts without me. To form a clear opinion purely from your viewpoint. Because it cannot be denied that you have some valid points and a right to be concerned, no matter how depressing it might be.

We need to get to know each other again. That is what it is all about. You are my mirror and I am yours. Together we will find out what happened and why things are the way they are.

Where did we get these rules to follow, anyway? It seems that they do not apply to everyone else. It seems that others do not mind, that they do not hear the messages. Of course some of them do, but - don't you see - they are not one of the others either. For this discussion, it would be most useful to ignore them and instead focus on the ones that lack these restrictions.

We both know that the rules are made by you and I. I think we should examine them a bit, in order to know what we are dealing with and to be more able to get rid of them at some point. But there is no need to rush; just deciding this will be enough for today.

At least we are going to the right direction, however slow this might be. But look at me -  look at me! I have this feeling that someday we will be one of the deaf ones.

Listen, I promise, she said to herself. This was the last time I abandoned you, you know, this was the last time I forgot you. Now I am here again. And I will stay. I will not leave you again. I will not leave us.

On the other hand - who knows. I have done it about a million times before and it would be quite unusual if I managed to live the rest of my life without doing it again. And again. And again.

This time I will stay and we will be together for eternity.

You know me, I know. But at least I wish I could.