Dreams and reality

The current topic in my therapy because my therapist says I’m a dreamer and I need to accept the fact that my dreams may fail and I may need a plan B. But do I really need to accept that? Do I need to accept the fact that I may fail? That I actually may be a failure? Why should I do that? Why should I tell myself I may not reach my goals? It’s strange, you know. People always say you need dreams and they’re never too high and you need to hold on to them and they all can come true if you really want it and work hard for it. But once you do that, you’re an illusionist. That’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? You’re told to be yourself and then you’re judged. People can’t keep their words. My therapist asked me today: what if a real fortune teller came to you and told you you won’t reach the goals you set yourself for your future? I guess my answer surprised him: I would do anything to prove him wrong. He responded: but what if he was right and you couldn’t do anything about it? And I said: I would never accept that. I would never give up until I’d made sure I’d done anything I could possibly have to reach my goals. No matter how unrealistic. Some people call me a fighter because of that, others an idiot. But I don’t care. Any dream is realistic that can physically be turned into reality. Wanting a real unicorn is as unrealistic as wanting stupidity to no longer exist, but why can’t a black boy wish to become president? Why can’t a little Neill want to see the moon? Why can’t I move to the continent where I belong in three years and go to college then- though I don’t have any money yet? Why shouldn’t I find a way? That’s the same with revolutions. It’s always a small stupid dream at the beginning until somebody stands up and works as hard as possible to turn it into a new kind of reality. Yeah, I wanna go to a $ 30,000 college even though I don’t have any money right now. Why shouldn’t I find a way? Why should I fail? And I told my therapist: I’m never gonna accept that. Maybe I’m an illusionist because there is no plan B for me and the only possible future is in my eyes the one others call a dream. Of course I’m scared of failing. But I will never accept the possibility for the fear to come true. Everyone keeps telling me I need to live reality, but if reality means giving up on dreams I’ll stay in my world of illusions.

I have reached so much. When I came here last year, I couldn’t imagine to skip purging for a week after I’d done it for four years. And now? I haven’t thrown up by myself in six months and don’t miss it either. I’ve gone through hell to come to where I am today. Yes, I’m scared. But after everything I’ve reached so far, I’ll never give up again before I got what I want. Because I’ve seen I can do it. And I won’t let some doctors who are unhappy with their lives stop me from getting what I want. No matter how hard it’s gonna be and how many doubts I’ll have. It’s never been easy for me anyway. But I’ve always been smarter and stronger than the others. Like the great J. F. Kennedy said: Those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly. And I did fail miserably. Now it’s time for part two to happen.

Worst feeling.

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I hope my tablet successfully uploaded the picture upon this sentence. This quote from The Vampire Diaries (season 4) reminds me of myself. That’s how I currently feel. I don’t know what happened to me. Right now I’m writing to keep myself busy until the time has passed I need to wait after dinner to purge. In my opinion, 15 minutes after a meal is perfect. And why am I doing this? The perfection I’m looking for doesn’t exist in this world and I know it, but I chase it anyway and I’d rather die than give up on this stupid delusional dream. There’s a hole inside of me that can’t be filled. Believe me, I tried to fill it with anything possible. People, food, feelings, self harm, devastation, music, hobbies, passions, disorders, recovery, alcohol, drugs, whatever. Right now I’m trying to fill it with sex although I already know it’s not gonna work. I just need something to keep me from completely going insane. I don’t wanna go back into a damn psychiatric or something. Nothing is cured in there.

Also, I don’t want a new year. The last few have already been so terrible, it’s only gonna get worse this time! 365 new days, but the same old shit. I spent Sylvester drunk and high all the time cuz I wouldn’t have been able to make it through otherwise. I tried it without any drugs the past two Sylvester nights, but I ended up in my bed with a lot of blades and blood. And self hatred. I will never do ‘real’ drugs like pills, shots and syringes again, but right now I feel like I need alcohol and weed sometimes (like twice a week) cuz it’s the only way for me to calm down. It makes me feel numb, fearless, careless, satisfied and free. Without the stuff, I’m always jittery, nervous and overthinking- and that gets too exhausting for me after some time.
I’m just trying to think positive about the new year, but I really can’t. It’s like I’m always only getting worse. When is this pain going to end? When it ends me? No matter how good I feel, a part of me is ALWAYS dead! I can’t remember myself without this rotting piece in my soul. But how can I kill this monster without killing myself?

During my last session before Christmas with my therapist, she asked me a question that keeps haunting me. “How do you imagine your perfect life?”
It took some time for me to answer. In a beautiful Victorian gothic house somewhere in my home state Wisconsin or another beautiful one like California or Louisiana, I answered. I’d have a young daughter, at least five dogs and a husband I would stay together with for the rest of my life- not because of the child, because of true, eternal love. We’d live in a small town to be able to have a huge garden and peace, but near a big city for shopping and whatever. I would have had graduated college (this tense is confusing) and now work with the FBI or something cool like that cuz that has ALWAYS been my dream job. Every Christmas , we’d fly to Germany and visit my sister there because I’m 100% sure she won’t want to come back to the United States. I’d be healthy, happy, and of course, still vegan and a goth girl like I’ve always been. And I would have a family. Finally.
I wish I had this life, but I actually don’t think I’ll ever make this dream come true. There is no cure, no eternal love and no great life for me out there.
We’re born alone and we die alone and what happens in between is only a illusion we create to feel like we belong somewhere and to someone, but we don’t. We all live our own life and it will always end up the same way:
Dead and alone, forever.
And I don’t think I can make it through at least 50 more years until then. No matter how damn hard I’ll try to stay strong. Right now I’m still trying, but I’m not sure for how long I’ll keep doing that…