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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Worst book ever

Submitted: August 10, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 10, 2015





I was born in Finland shortly before the 90's recession, but the problems started probably even before that when my father asked my mother to sign a surety for a debt. I didn't even know the whole thing until I had already visited mental ward's. Now is a good time to start writing, or even need to do something. Finnish language I couldn't pass in high school final exams because I haven't been writing essays and not learnt the textual skills. I remember in middle school writing about a white horse that was either a snow horse or unicorn. Now only I know, the symbol of innocence, was it? I didn't understand anything on the lessons of my own mother tongue. 

I was a virgin for 21 years. Now I stopped counting men at seventy, of how many men I've laid with. My friend joked that men of my area would vote yes for me if I posed naked in election posters. I encountered some rotten eggs but mostly heard beautiful things from them. There will be people who look at my social media face pictures, and think I was mentally ill, getting frightened. They could be right, or they don't know how to treat people right. What is wrong with me then? I gained thirty, fifty kilos in the past 3-6 years. I was of course before that, heavy. When I was first put in the hospital I weighed 67 kg, having the BMI of 25, normal. 

We would soon move to the coast in a small town, I knew it all the way in my childhood. We drove there often to meet my stepfather. I didn't want to move there under any circumstances. Wailing, screaming, defying, I would urge all that I wanted to eat with hurting myself in the process. What was brought to me from a store? - Chocolate and fizzy drinks. I refused to warm my own food or eat my mother's cooking. There is a book called Chocolate Diet in English, but the book was just about the right things. Did not help that my grandma owned a kiosk and there be candy. She paid most of my exchange year in the United Kingdom. I'm not used to eating fast food, because where we lived in small towns of the Western Finland, there weren't places to eat I'd known of. I took the fizzy drinks for mixing alcohol with, so my mother and stepfather wouldn't drink so much, they spoke ill of me when they got drunk and otherwise didn't teach me social skills. I moved a lot and made new friends, but none stayed in my life to adulthood. One last move to the town I despised, I didn't want friends, none of those peasants was good enough for me.

What was the most violent sex experience, but at the same time the most orgasmic? After all, who might not have been married of them, with whom I was? He choked, put his hand in my mouth, pulled my mouth with his hand and pulled my hair, should he tried fisting I had freaked out. At some point, I lost the ability to move my right leg from under me, and he continued even though I said I can't move. One does not forget, "You don't have to move." 

Men may have fantasies, even if they seem familiar and would have met with you ten times. But before this traveller from London, who I am still seeing aside from being engaged, the passion was taught to me by the first boy I saw in that remote town. He drove into a ditch with a moped in front of my window and I decided to find him, who it was. Might have gone wrong with "who" he was, but I fell in love with him two times in a row, even spoiling my teens. 

Love was one- sided. I still wouldn't do anything with him, been, no... So if someone would abuse my book information to get close to me, would I understand. Although I am a cigarette, ash, inhaled and released out. I got a poem, called Lust, to one of my online journals, which I remembered now. Do not think I wouldn't of have received love letters and more attention from men. I had crushes, but I was never interested in men.

He was originally from Australia but lived in London; that even abused me almost but made him feel bad, one of the men. He brought me chocolate from England, bought an HD camera that I forgot on the hotel bed, and we visited a local sex store. Beers often accompanied the start of our hotel meetings and even pizza once. Back to me. I am a generous nature and have lived here and there, optimistic and happy. I speak English same way as I do Finnish. I learned on my own from English subtitles, books, music, all sort of ways and no word was foreign to me until I knew it. I was an exchange student on the Isle of Wight in England when I was 16-17 years old. I promised one international co-ordinator, that I would write a book somewhen. I've started a couple of books, about a life change, or: Wicca religion. Change of life was not perfect with only one year abroad, but now with a diagnosis and rehabilitation. Religion I practice a bit, and still not exhumed from the church. Although Wicca isn't even a religion in Finnish terms, I did an initiation ritual ages ago. 

But here we are, a part of a book already written and I do Kajsa's black humour style. I don't know if many believe in any of what I tell myself, but I take my every word sacred even though I hate truth and honesty show utter disregard. Surely story has to go back to Kajsa, who was born the next day of her grandparent's wedding anniversary in Tampere Central Hospital. Almost black, dark-haired baby, pink scroll I was. At the hospital, I already got Koila, which I named myself very young, a self-made pile of brown hair stuffed animal that reminds more of a donkey than - a dog, "koira".

It was all over with, our summer trips every summer in Eastern Finland, in Finland's poorest municipalities, Kesälahti. There I was a swimmer and later a mermaid, from the first year of life as a baby. A bit like a little half-sister was one the age of one in Turkey holiday. I was read books out loud by a hotel boy, and I suspect he thought I was dumb, as I spoke very little and I read back then, even dancing by the pool.

I once danced with someone in my life, and I was in love with him a couple of times unintentionally. The teacher took the first and last of the line of boys and girls and I just looked at him in disbelief. You and me? I was grabbing him hard from the shoulder, and he gasped animalistic. It was so embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as dreaming of him or making a fan page to him. Or, the naked ritual that I did in the forest. I know I was seen as a devil-worshipper because some boy wrote about a picture of me in the background I was at a camping site's saunas doing clean up. Look I was at a summer job, so I reported the picture  so he knew it was me, even.

Is that supposed to fit my style to tell all the juicy stuff in the beginning? You will receive at least the mental image for impulsivity, the ability to get into trouble and have problems. Sometimes you do not even have to do much...

Twice I've been in solitary confinement. One simple agitation movement from a comb when I was getting dressed when I came from a shower telling my nurse not to come any closer. The second time, drunk and having my hungover there. I came from a Greek holiday with some liquor I suggested grandma to buy- I drunk a little those, suddenly: I lost my passport to my father. I was about to go to America anyway to live with some old man as his wife, who burned some drug pipe when I saw him on live cam. 

I haven't spoken to my mother for three years. When I wrote the backstory to this book, I was wearing her old sweatpants and having a period for three months because of a woman hormone implant in my arm. I was told once, if I had a child, it would be taken away from me...

One summer I ate nothing but cheese rolls and chocolate and Pepsi, but I would lose weight. That summer we lived on the coast in the town where my stepfather's childhood home was, it was the most awful flat I have ever lived. Stepfather punched a hole in my room's door, too. It is the best municipal in Finland for the elderly. That is, not for young people growing up in the city as I have, as I did in the previous place, as a resident of a town 50km from Turku where I was told to return to whence I had came from. My father despised the dialect I was learning to speak, as Turku and Tampere have been rivalling for the second biggest city in Finland. Neighbour boys spied on me then, once I was caught reading a book out loud with the living room blinds closed. It must've looked strange, they thought I was explaining something to myself. 

I've already reached a thousand words of writing and revealed the most secrets of my heart. Still requires a bit of work if I can get a book written with these synapses electrochemical signals. My schizophrenia medicines cause many side effects, but I've also read studies that it reduces the amount of white matter while increasing grey area of the brain. That's why I get fat and passivised. Oh what, had I schizophrenia? If it hasn't been detected yet in your mind, confusion, concentration problems, me having those things, it is to me yet still a dirty word. At least I have not seen visions or heard voices. Well once I thought I heard someone passing by say kill myself, but I was listening to my headphones and it might've been a half a thought. And even though in my online journal I connected in a long sentence a band whose music I can't tolerate at all to be paedophiles to be sentenced to death with mercy, so I don't refer that they would be, something in the band's name makes me think of them when I say it, as it sounds like those. I hated the band and singer at all times it was almost funny. Somewhere in the hospital there was an opinion that it was something romantic, but I can't think of this. I wasn't a fan and I got outcast. The whole band wouldn't have been enough to satisfy me sexually, but I admitted to being in an age where rock/pop singers were idolized. There's a radio channel that often is playing this band's music, I can't stand to listen to it. I would close my ears. In my diagnosis, it was stated I had gotten "importance of experience" from their lyrics, which isn't true. I was at a festival they were playing and left soon after they started to play a song called Psychosis and admitted that yeah I left off pretty psychotics. And humbug! Doesn't anyone get me. I still didn't know that the psychosis is, and not sure I still get it, if not having experienced it. No need for a psychiatrist read out a long sentence from my profile and make conclusions, that would be comfortably exploited by drug companies, giving them another customer for life. 

I do not hate anything in the world more than the Poets of the Fall band. Because of them, I ended up in the hospital. I was there four months, but it was a total shock.

Granted, I went three times in a mental hospital. I tried to kill myself with sleeping pills, I was given by the psychiatrist I hated while not having any trouble sleeping. The sleeping pills and white wine to an empty stomach after a night in surveillance, been called up to police to take me so I don't hurt myself by a girl I chatted to in the capital. Vowed I wouldn't do anything, but of course afterwards my dad and stepmom reassured they loved me. Couldn't help to believe it as I've always been so distant to their daughter. Third time was my men adventures. How many exactly had I been with when I ended up to hospital again? Maybe there were around fifty? It can be closer to thirty, I don't remember, but would have conquered more. It has dramatic effects to my savings, lost all my saved up pension money, and to this day I dare not anymore to save. 

Becoming a woman was difficult. For the first time should not have just lost my virginity, but the same weekend I met three men. The first was a dreadlocks head; tongue jewelled of a drug dealer who didn't want to keep in touch. We did 69 position and he said he's been with hundred women, but none have bj just as well as I. And it was my first time, warm genitals instead. I guess I was focused, throwing up some beer, though - I was clever at deep-throat. Can someone say that?

My mother told me when she was pregnant she feared me. I don't understand how she had more children since she never loved the first one because she was never loved. She thought a child can know all by itself when the child actually takes on everything from their parents. She admitted to me in an email she was never a loving adult in my life. She has the same horoscope signs as J.K. Rowling, with whose books I eagerly waited and read many times, I was that generation of Potterheads.

Tears run down from my eyes when I think what I currently wrote. But while navigating through bookstores offerings, is the only remaining option to write my own. In my book shopping cart was a book about the soul of sex. Not that I would gather sympathy crying, or I am going to tell you about my everyday cooking and dining and other little things that should easily fill a blog, even a book. My blog is just a reference booklet to my book. And I need some blog I write to anyone, be it a grandparent or to whom I have fallen in love with, so I would like to read it myself? Otherwise, there will not be any writing, but the book is bigger thing than me too. 

I remember when I had a cold I wrote poems on the roof about how I wanted my life to end. I remember a fever as a child that was surely 40 degrees Celsius, but I felt much more energetic than ever. I remember when I blew my nose so that I used a whole paper roll's amount to blowing. What about when I had a sniffle and I went to a lavender farm in England, my nose opened in the gift shop, followed by a lavender inspired tattoo worth 250 euros on my butt. Living can be good, even if it's painful. Distrust is maybe the meaning of lavender in the language of flowers.

I get injections to my butt and arm, which now have lavender tattoos. Antidepressants I take every morning. It was why ties got broken with my mother when she came visit me in the hospital. I was already broken down, sick and tired of drugs and coughing, crying to get the taste off, when she arrived. My mother accepts I am ill, nothing other than a disease. If you value more that drugs are trying to maintain normality in the body and brain, and not trust my own thoughts, go away you... evil. It's not abnormal beliefs, not what the drugs destroy. I didn't feel an impact of the drugs other than harmful side effects. I had an IQ of 125 going to the hospital. They, too, recognised that my intellect was higher than average. It must've come from a decade of reading science magazines illustrated. They said to expect a decrease in the level. The third time I was in the hospital they examined me to be average on my own age's level. I was good with my hands on a block pattern test, and oddly enough read the whole piece of paper colours written in blank ink, maybe I didn't hear the examiner stay stop, though. Was the last green or blue? Could've been even red. My intelligence didn't matter in driving school written test nor high school Finnish exam. I have to admit that something was wrong when I got that much failure. Can't explain why I was so unsuccessful. Everything went by so rough. Maybe I didn't get myself expressed in the right way? What was moving in my mind, as I got "sick"? Perhaps it was outside my control. I remember what I did but not what I felt. Fatigue after once I had two nights without sleep. Perhaps I used too many brain cells and shut myself down. My reason was trying to break my psyche, got this inspiration from reading about torturing in a science magazine. And it was torture at granny's... Between rain drops when trying to sleep, not getting black curtains to my room, or in the morning onset of menstruation throwing up acne medication (that caused light sensitivity) and so I pooped and everything that morning all within a short time, thinking I came up with "cunt's own shit" (in Finnish "vittu mitä paskaa"). 

I have since been a resident in a rehabilitation home after I got out of the hospital. One cold night, a skeletal girl two years older anorexic, invited me to the sauna and in an environment in which alcohol was banned, offered a drink, and we went to a local restaurant. Out in the cold on the way there, we kissed, it being my first kiss. It felt as if we had tried to gain something out of each other, but it was passionate, and with a man a bit later I was clumsy and he used way too much tongue. A few months later and I decided to throw away this virginity I had been holding onto. It was time to become a woman. I joined a site which I had in the past almost by accident joined until the word "fucker" was in the box testing if you were a robot. I'm human when I realised that this was not, therefore, other than sex partner search, site.

My first experience led me to continue almost every weekend in the summer, my hotel nights with men, which led me to a hospital. I felt something warm and alive inside myself for the first times. Closure to my previous way of not having contact with men, as I just used to literally run away from them, was this growing into a body of a woman.

This was just half the story. My family and everyone around me have theirs. Maybe to my grandparents I was a singing, cheerful, having fun by myself always on those summer camping trips since the age of one floating blonde-haired happy child who loved to spend time at the kiosk buying candy or in the morning getting fresh donuts and bread. Father had his own family and I was left behind like a throwing bag like my mum said once. I have a memory with my mother when she was still studying and I was under the table asked her many times did she love me, until she snapped that she did not. Didn't even have to ask more than a few times, but she made me an eternal enemy. It's one of my earliest memories. Especially shopping trips in my youth were difficult. She spat at me in the car, struck me on the cheek in a shoe store and my stepfather called me fat when I found a winter coat to my liking. When I think this back I might've been able to manipulate them into getting what I wanted, but I still ate for that feeling of abandonment and left alone after school. When my mother drank and loved her sister more, I want to mention when I was seventeen, my aunt attacked and broke my teeth, with whom my ties were always poor. My mother just wasn't loved, not as if she couldn't have said she loved people, but she has some kind of block in her mind about that. I got what she has. I've never had a boyfriend, as I wrote this... For a long time, I could say that. Or, the reason I didn't have a boyfriend, "no one just hasn't liked me." Likes/loves... Whether there is so much difference to those. Only decide to say how strong feeling or bond you have to issues. 

Now at the moment I have a place, as well as a man who wants to live with me, and calls me dear or honey. I don't have a job or training, but he has work experience from 15 years. Is twelve year age difference a lot? We are both dragons by Chinese horoscope. Of course, I studied abroad in Photography, History and Philosophy. I mean I got from English History a B from my essay. And what am I, having been living in Finland for my whole life. So I don't know anything about what I wrote, but I realised the root of that how it might be written. Philosophy essay was left unfinished when I discovered in the end I had no opinion. My Photography folder was even left there for revision. I always had had sixes on scale 4-10 in my native language. Same was for my father at school though he read more than any boys. 

On fourth grade I adopted Spice-Girls lyrics, squinted with bad eye sight subtitles on TV, and wanted to understand the language, so I studied words to myself almost obsessively to learn words only after hearing them for the first time. I watched at the age of ten, vampire cult sci-fi series and soap which at midnight at that age could be too scary, give a bad influence. At that age Ville Valo from HIM band seemed like a bad influence through my eyes. I watched him in Jyrki programme, as I thought this. He is also a dragon, by the Chinese horoscope, that is; twelve years older. I'm interested in how well a pseudoscience hits correct guesses at people's age when monitoring them which sign they could be by horoscope. It wouldn't be self-searching.

Do I know how to draw conclusions about myself then, say, on the basis of this book myself? I didn't even tell on my own words from my own life, but my memory still is good with events. Used to be good with names, too for when I had a hobby of exchanging letters, and they were important to me. I still have a box of them. 

When my life curved between moving to places I felt melancholy as I drifted away from my birthplace. In my dreams I would look for a mother who died of childbirth, it felt same in real life. I have good siblings from her side, I just haven't seen much of them as my mother kicked me out and hid all my belongings in boxes and on an attic. 

Maybe my tattooist was right, and I need therapy, for my mother issues. Psychotherapy even would have to try that being born again in theory, at least.

At least, I'm smart and have layers but on the other hand, impulsiveness and clearly hold a grudge for long, getting resentful. It would be better to know thyself. 




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