Love is the most important thing for me. It has always been. Absolutely in a destructive way. Nothing else matters unless there’s love. I have no difficulties being alone, it’s not about that, I just always have to believe that love is out there. And if I’ve ever doubted it, it’s then my life has fallen down in this pitch black hole of nothingness. But also, love is the one thing that has never turned out like I thought it would.

I’ve had a few lovers. And some of them really started out like they do in movies. All the romance, the butterflies and what I felt was never ending love. But as time went on, things got more difficult, and eventually we lost what I thought could never be lost. People I’ve met, and loved more than anything in the world I barely think of today. It’s almost like they’ve never existed. And it’s such a strange feeling when I start to think about it. I gave them my whole heart and now I don’t even know if they’re alive.

It’s the same in my current relationship, when we met years ago, we were so in love, and nothing else mattered. We did everything together and could barely spend a single night apart. He was on my lips constantly, and I never wanted anything more than I wanted him. Today we still live under the same roof, but I can’t even remember the last time he kissed me. Not like he meant it anyway. We don’t touch, and we barely even speak. We only exist next to each other. There is no love left. Nothing to work with. And I’m getting so desperate. I miss love. I miss the kissing, the touching and just being close to someone. Barely being able to contain yourself, because you’re the luckiest girl in the world. I need that feeling again so badly.

How come love, that we so desperately seek, always seem to end? Is there such a thing as true love? And if so, in who do we find it?

I really envy people with passions. I think passion and ambition is one of the most attractive things in a person. It doesn’t really matter what it is about, as long as it’s there.

I guess I have my little passions too, or more like several things I love, would be a better way to describe it really. And it’s scattered out through many different things, not just one. I love to write, but I also love to make music and to sing. I love playing and dancing but I also love doing nothing at all sometimes. I could never just choose one of all the million things I love, to focus on. So I know that I will never be great at any of them, but honestly I’m completely fine with being decent, because I don’t think I could ever give any of them up.

But still I envy those people at times. You know when you meet them and you see that fiery look in their eyes while telling you all about the thing they love. How their entire soul just fires up and they’re literally sparkling like diamonds. There is something so purely inspiring about that.

I don’t know if passion is something you’re born with or if you can find it later in life too. But the ones that I’ve known with that special spark has been like that all their lives. I wish I could see inside their minds, to have just a taste of what it’s like to be in love like that. Just once.

So I’ve never wanted kids. No reason, I just never wished for kids of my own. Which is also the main reason why my previous relationships never worked out, they wanted children, I don’t, we split up. And sure, that always sucked but I’m still very happy with my decision and that I never folded.

I’ve never even thought about the reason I don’t want kids before, it has always just been that way and nothing I really reflected over, until recently. I saw a video with a girl talking about a book she read, it was about how many women (maybe men too? I don’t remember) doesn’t want kids because of their own mothers. How they were treated badly, had a rough childhood, got neglected and so on. And for that reason grew up and was so scared to become like their own terrible mothers themselves that they never got any children because of it. I am sure there is a lot more to that theory but I only saw a short video, I have to read more into it.

But it just got me thinking, is that maybe why I never wanted children of my own? I don’t think so, but maybe? It might be a mix of both, my shitty mom and that I was just never interested in having kids at all, but who knows. I mean, we’re more affected by our childhood then we can imagine, at least that’s what I believe and have experienced myself when I’ve been working on & looking over my own life and who I am as a person today.

Time has flown by so fast that I’m having trouble keeping up. I’m already 27 years old, and I haven’t done anything I wanted to do in life yet.

I had so much anxiety and stress as a little kid and all the way through my teenage years that I was never able to finish school, which is something I’m really sad about today. I think I really hit my mental health rock bottom when I was in my early 20’s, maybe I was around 22, I don’t really remember. All I remember is how I wished for everything to be over. I just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Those thoughts had been going on for years, but it was then I really decided to do something about it. I remember that I took a whole bunch of prescription pain pills that I bought on the streets, went to bed and hoped to never wake up again, and how desperately hopeless I felt when I woke up in that same bed almost two days later, still alive. It felt like I’d gotten hit by a truck and dragged around the entire country, but still, alive.

That next day I went to work as if nothing ever happened. I never spoke about it to a single soul. Until now I guess. I just moved on with my life, depressed and miserable like never before. After that I desperately decided to get some help, and they put me on two different antidepressants, which did absolutely nothing. I was on them for about 1.5 years if I remember correctly. And of course I never told the doctors or my therapist the whole truth about my life, I was always to ashamed. By that time I still felt that it was my fault that my mother never loved or wanted me and that my dad was drinking his way through life. I can’t even describe the absolute shame in those feelings.

This blog is actually the only place I’ve ever spoken about these things, and it feels OK to talk about it for the first time ever. Maybe it’ll do some good for me.

When I was 25 I decided that enough was enough. I wasn’t going to feel this way anymore, and I didn’t care what I had to do to get past it. That’s when my drinking really escalated, even if it was already bad as it was even before that point. But I got up, and I decided to work towards my future. It may sound terrible, but in some ways the drinking actually helped as much as it hurt. It helped me get through a lot of rough times and grief. And now I’m here, completely sober, from everything, fairly happy and are getting closer to my goals everyday. I might not reach them yet for a few years, but at least I’m on my way. And I will get there, I don’t care if it’s when I’m 30 or 55. I’ll reach them when I reach them, and it’s going to feel so damn good.

Do you ever feel like you’re not just one person? That you’re a different person everyday or in different situations?

I feel like I always turn in to the person I need to be for the moment. It’s kind of like playing a character I think. It’s not that I am this person, it’s more of a role I take on to be able to handle situations better.

There’s Katherine, the strong, independent, bossy and honestly a bit bitchy girl.

There’s May, the sweet & giggling, happy go lucky kind of girl.

And there’s Betty, the careful, responsible good girl. And the list goes on and on.

And I feel like I can switch between them in a heartbeat, and my mind & mood instantly changes. I’d say it’s very convenient, but also a bit confusing at times, especially when I’m trying to figure out which one of all these different personalities is actually me.

Maybe one of all these characters are the real me, I just don’t have any idea which one anymore. Or maybe I am all of them in some way.