My psychologist called me, which means that it is now Monday.   I told her that I really shouldn’t go out and that I wasn’t feeling very well.   I told her that I wasn’t sick, and after some talking we decided she should come here.
She has been here before, so that is all well.   Hopefully this was a good idea.    She’s a good person and all that, but she is still a person.   And I can’t say that it is a very good thing right now.   But hopefully it will give me an opportunity to put things into words in another way than my blog can help me with.   So, that is what I will do, for now.

At least now I know the shape of what is wrong.   Or wrong?   I don’t know yet.   I know the basic form of that which is, whether that is something good or something bad.

The rats are all still sleeping.   The snakes may be sleeping as well, even though it is a bit hard to tell when it comes to snakes.   Sleeping rats are very cute.

I just got up.   I am tired and cold, and hope that I will be ready when she comes.
Time to play the recorder and drink more strawberry liquids.

/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 13.25


My paws are frozen.   I sat on my balcony for a while, watching and taking photographs of the sunset playing on the clouds.   Dark clouds high up, broken up by blue sky.   Small clouds further down, caught in the autumn wind, drifting, breaking up, reforming into beautiful shapes.   Yellow, orange, red; sunset coloured…

Tired now.   Paws frozen.
Should make tea, and thaw for a bit.

Less broken today.   Waiting for an answer I’m not sure if I will ever get.   Listening to Van Der Graaf Generator, hoping I haven’t done something terribly stupid.   But perhaps he really owns me to at least be allowed one big fuck-up after what he has done to me?   Who the hell knows about things like that?   All I know is that I am hurting like a rat caught with its tail in a trap, and I need to think.   I need to be alone to think.    I need to be alone so very badly, even if it hurts.

My psychologist said that things didn’t have to be black and white, that I should be able to be both myself and with friends.   She didn’t get it.   She said it was normal to want to be alone and rest now and again.    But it isn’t like that.    I know it isn’t like that, but the words escape me.

I don’t mean that now I’m going to be alone forever and move out and spend the rest of my life on a mountain, cursing at passers-by who dare to intrude on my calm.   I think perhaps she thought that was what I meant.   But it’s not like that.   I would love it if my friends wrote emails to me, as long as they knew that things might take a while at the moment for me to respond.

Yesterday, Narraiao said that she would be there when I wanted her again.   I told her that I always wanted her, and that that was one of the problems.   And so she said that then she would be there when I didn’t want her any more.   It actually made me laugh.

But I’m felling better today.   I hope I feel like meeting people again by October the second.   Because that is when I am going to Angel.   (Although, truth be told, he has put up with me for eight or ten years now?   I doubt he would be much surprised or terrified by an angry and growly Pao by now.)   Besides, if I’m just feeling slightly better, going there might do me good.   He’s very good at asking strange questions and giving new perspectives on things.
And being on a train for three or four hours, drinking horrible tea-substitute and writing…   I can picture myself worse fates than that.

But what will happen now?   How long will this take?

I don’t know.   I don’t know yet.
Fuck this.   I need tea and answers.
The annoying thing is that in this case, I cannot find my answers on some neat Wikipedia page.
All I have is sadness, confusion, cold paws and lots of questions.

I will find the answers in due time.   I always do.
But still, the journey is not very pleasant this time.

I kind of wish M was here, but I could probably not stand even her company right now.
At the moment I barely tolerate my Helpers. I try to tolerate them at the moment, because at least I can tell them to go and get me food so that I don’t have to go out.
That is very useful.   And I like useful things.   Especially when I have no other choice.

But the water just came to a boil.   Tea now.
/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 19.08
(wanting to be alone, but not abandoned or abandoning)


Do I find a perverse pleasure in tormenting myself with my own voice?
Perhaps.  Perhaps I do.  Now I did something, just for my own pleasure.  And I cannot stand the sound of my own voice.  But no, that is a lie; I love my voice.   I would really have loved listening to it if it either sounded like it does in my head, or belonged to someone else entirely.

And still I listen to it.   Recorded, repeating, saying the same words over and over again.
And I love that voice.   I love those words.  But neither the voice nor the words are my own.
They aren’t the words I had intended, it is not the voice I had.

But I love that voice.  I would love to have a voice like that.
But I don’t.  My voice is different than that.
But it is, and it makes me cry.

I should go and howl.

/pao – 27 oct 2010 – 21.01


A short chat on Skype, and I want to go and hide again.  I can do better though; I can go to bed and sleep.  I have been reading.  I have been sitting outside, on the balcony.  It was 8C out there and my paws fell numb, despite the blanket.

I was listening to the sounds of the night.  The trains coming and going.

I should make more food, tea and take my drugs.
I feel fluttery and ghostlike when I try to interact with others.

Sleep well, all of you out there.

/pao – 27 sept 2010 – 23.51

1 comment so far

Add Your Comment
  1. *purrrrr*