2001-08-31 --- Every time I think of goth, I think of Milla and her husband. You just can’t get rid of some images. And when I think of Milla, I think of the bandages she had on her wrists one day. It was a little before I got caught cutting in hospital. I saw her bandages and I shuddered. X said that Milla’s heart was scorched. I think he was right. There was something terribly wrong in her. Yes, she was in a psychiatric hospital, but I mean something else. Something bigger than that. Something horribly hurt. I don’t know everything she had been through, but I guess it was a lot more than what I went through. Because everything I went through was really nothing. I keep talking a lot about those people who were in the hospital with me. It’s some sort of therapy, I think. I need to remember. I need to process it. I need to see what it was like. She had bandages on her wrists because her husband slit his wrists the day before. Tried to kill himself, of course. I used to argue with Ta about the justification. I said that everyone had the right to kill themselves, and she said that ‘life is a gift’ and some such crap. I remember her once saying that when they tried to kill her, she had realized how precious life is, and I remember myself yelling, choking of tears, that when they tried to kill me, I realized it wasn’t worth it. They had to make me take a lot of pills to calm me down. It was one of those bad nights. Really, no one’s tried to kill me. My so called best friend (at least everyone else thought so) tried to strangle me once. I nearly lost conscious. And of course my dad yelled once that he’d kill us and cut himself with that huge kitchen knife. I remember thinking that he was insane and should be locked up. I was surprised that the police never came. I suppose I shouldn’t have been. Oh, if I had known then what I know now… But that doesn’t matter. If I still lived in V, I might catch Milla in a bus sometimes. She said she had seen me before, probably on a bus. It’s amazing how people sometimes remember me, even if I might not remember them. I’m not unusual looking. Except a bit on the ugly side, perhaps. But that doesn’t matter either. Surprisingly, I’ve started to remember better the first weeks in the hospital. I had no real memory of them before. Now it’s come closer, and the latter times don’t matter that much. Oh, sometimes I wish I had done things differently. I might’ve gotten to know some of them better. There were good times. Like when I danced with Jyrki, or when Kristiina called the radio. There was a lot of laughter, and a lot of pain. I wish I had something to remind me of those good times. I wish Ta had given me one of her poems or something that’d remind me of them. Something from all of them. You probably don’t understand how much I’d need something to remind me. I have nothing but my memories. I’ve never had anything and I’ll never have. All the real things I have around me matter zilch to me. Because. Because they’re here for a second and then they’re gone. Like people. Oh, I don’t know how to explain. All I know is that I’m tired and… I meant to say that everything’s useless, but I’m not sure it’s worth saying. I’m tired, you know. It’s been a long day. A long and useless day. And my cuts hurt. |
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