Note

The whole book in Finnish (pdf) | Order

I have a problem. I am bored. I admit not knowing anything about love. Who the hell is living around my intestines? I think I'm paranoid. I've tried all right, but I'm terribly shy. I couldn't really sleep at night. Lord, what a dumb and futile day! If I'd drink less alcoholic beverages, who would I be? Around my heart squeezed a cold fist that hasn't let go yet. My head is terribly empty somehow. Cannot breathe. I live in an immaterial cage. I suppose this is just tiredness. I've been sleeping so badly. Alcohol, pills. How, during the moments of fatigue, you can loathe the slowness and heaviness of the human reintegration processes, the state of indecision, dependence. My mind got all locked up. I was all shagged and only wanted to doze off, but the merciful sleep just wouldn't come. I've hurt others and myself. It hurts more now. Weeping comes in fits, as a spasmodic anguish that cannot be stopped or eased off by telling yourself how you've got over it before and will get over it again. A blown-out feeling. That is, I just don't have the power any more. We had nothing to say to each other. I became a shadow. All the doors were closing in before me. Feeling annoyed, weepy, frustrated. Feelings all frozen. Sad. Been feeling fatigue, disappointments, and pain in mind. Yesterday, I was a complete carcass. Sometimes I feel like just being in the way in everything. So why is reading so painful? A real lizards? night, life bad, and murders in mind regardless. What a longing I've felt. If I can last out as far as early next week, then I know I can last even longer, and will again get going, my system beginning to work and push the poison out. In the evening, I pondered the contents of my tiredness. Got to halt, and just be there, breathing the sorrows out. During the day, he chases the snakes away with his baton, but at night they move back to him again. It too will end soon. We were also remembering the kinds of things we were intensely afraid of as kids. Except that I can't live this feeling. A small silent, giddy feeling. All kinds of injuries. They're promising it like they'd promise cunt to an invalid. Now feeling abandoned again, but at least I've chosen that myself. Everything should be fine, but still, I feel an inexplicable sadness. I feel pity for my parents; I'd loose my mind if I had a kid like this. Well, let's see a movie and try not to die in longing. Had a hysteric fit of weeping, and during that, was close to succumb to a cigarette. I am what you'd call a non-sexual, even sissy man. I want to be among living and breathing people, animals, and plants! I don't care if my feet have hurt for a year now, since I've been wearing these all worn-out shoes. Today I wanted to hide away. Depression is the only trait still left in me. Getting musty at home, without speaking or looking anyone in the eye. Nothing came to mind. What irritates me most is their making me feel guilty for fatigue. Now, suddenly, I'm afloat so far away from those changes I wasn't afraid of, that I cannot believe in finding my way back again. All except breathing hurts. Am I supposed to have a right to be ill? I'd like to be quits with my past, but everything feels useless. Sometimes I just cannot behave, this way or other. I'm ashamed. Maybe I'll let the hope warm my mind a tiny bit today. A compelling need to run away, somewhere. Maybe I shouldn't have run away from the whole world, locking myself up at home to suffer from panic and fatigue. A few days gone by while feeling ill and infecting others. This day went down the drain. Wonder if this singing is happiness, or a signal of my going into a psychosis? Don't know what was the last drop. Well, better this fatigue than nausea. Fingers are all crooked all the time, and the skin is wrinkled. I guess I didn't learn anything from this either. I've been deserted. But my fears came back, to stay with me a little longer this time. Well, I have no idea of how it feels to be in love. I too was sad, and didn't really know how to give comfort. These are moments that are hard to live trough and to understand. Besides, is it fair to have lived in celibate against one's will for three years now. And now I'm so filthily tired. I really don't get myself. I want to be alone, all alone, with no-one near me. This hurts. Yes, you can die in hunger even in Finland! I'm old and frail. I just realized I have no-one to desire. I could go into pieces right here and now, that'd be a tempting option. Also, my staying power's all but exempted, and I haven't slept more than a few hours per night lately. Not a day without a sorrow. I'm all in smithereens. I wasn't actually afraid of death; instead, I was afraid of my own fear and of that terrible frantic whirling somewhere awfully high. Now I'm waiting for the medication to come, the city is empty, everybody's sick, and I cannot really get anything done. I get so pissed off of something like that, for Chrissake! Not good. I feel anguished, no-life, and keep talking bullshit. I feel like I'm screaming in some vacuum under a glass-bowl so people can see my gestures without hearing my voice. I begun to feel alarmed already. In my own life nothing happens, and I don't have the energy to take sides in the world affairs. Bad as I am. Didn't get to bed too early yesterday as I was trying to explain my bad feelings, even crying quite a bit. I don't remember ever experiencing pure feelings; on the other hand, I don't know if they even exist. So, how can I get better when I don't know what I want to become like? I was feeling bad and weak, and dizzy, and even the phone was open. This time I was alone in the dark, and afraid. The result was worse every time. I'd had it! I had to go somewhere to get some remedy to my ailment. I want to stay in bed, to die for a moment, since by suffering this would pass. O yes, yesterday I was so anguished that I begun puncturing myself. A slashing thought, a shy hope, at the bottom, a fear. Got to find something to do, I guess. Too heavy, too much. It hurts. Feeling awful. My eyes hurt, and coffee doesn't help either. To put it short and simple, I'm very tired. More than a month of despair now. Never good. I felt myself to be a failure, and stupid, and bad in every possible way. Just now it would do good to me to visit the outside of my head. And what good is that supposed to do? If only I knew how to get things out of mind. I feel cold, I'm aching, have a slight fever, and only want to sleep. Now I will go kill demons with Dante. I have no plans, no fixed dates, no intentions. This week, every day feels like Monday, anguished, long, and wretched. Nothing but feeling bad. The same stony clay-soil everywhere, where nothing grows but bitterness and longing. How can you be when there's so much bad and evil and wrong around? When there's no one near you you'd feel like kissing. I'm really tired. I too should stop even before I start.

^Note

Varjofinlandia (The Shadow Finland) by Karri Kokko (65 pages, poEsia, 2005) is a collage of depressive or otherwise dark or gloomy fragments in Finnish blogs picked up by the author during Spring and Summer 2005.