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eastendeagle-blog · 5 years

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MARCH

I knew I had to run at that point. I have been in a lot of thrilling situations in my life, but it was never like this. The adrenalin rushing through my body, the level of tensity so incredibly high. Covered in sweat, blood, and pure evil in my mind. It was like I ended up in the most exciting scene of a horror film. I ran far away from the fire in the woods, and as I ran, underneath the green of the northern lights sky, I realized: this is the night I’ve been dreaming of all my life. It was something, I knew, I will not regret. I knew that ever since I can remember. This plan, it all worked out in the end. I felt so much relief and satisfaction, even a little bit of peace.

I had my side buddy, Jussu, coming to pick me up in his blue Audi, his headlights were dimmed. It was parked aside of the many empty roads, as it is at 4 in the morning in Finland. I got in the car and Jussu went full crazy on the gas. He was talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word. I finally did what I wanted to do. I think I ended up in trance. I couldn’t be there in reality. I remember thinking, I didn’t want to wash his blood of off my hands. Oh, this moment is so sacred. His blood is sacred, and I looked at my hands, it’s his blood on my hands made from his blood. I wanted his blood on my hands, my face, for so many years. I dreamt about it when I was a kid. As Jussu was talking to me, or trying to talk to me on our way to his hidden shack in the woods 15 miles from Kuusamo, my thoughts were so damn loud that his voice sounded like life on the bottom of the sea. My thoughts were controling everything. I was just thinking, that I just ended a never-ending chapter, but the kind of one that fucking ended. So many dreams I’ve had all my fucking life about doing what I just did to him, how my dream became reality. Finally. How much fun I had while I was doing it, how much I enjoyed making him suffer. It was his deepest karma, and he knew this day was coming because he raised the ‘Devil’s son’, like he always called me. Fuck, I’m just as sick as him, I realized now. But at least I have manners, my mother taught me that. Or what’s left of it. But I destroyed the man who destroyed me, my life, my will to live; the reason why I hate myself and the reason why I do drugs – the reason why I’ve tried to kill myself for so many times, but couldn’t do it because it made me feel like “I” was the loser in the fucking game, I couldn’t kill myself because my desire to have the ultimate revenge on him stopped me from throwing myself off of a building. And the many rooftop parties I’ve had in New York City, standing on top of the city, how every single time I was there thinking I should throw myself off the edge. But, I never did, because it would make my father win the game. While in the car with Jussu, I was still going insane. It’s not like you do this to a person every day. But it felt so good. I really needed this and I can’t understand why I’ve never done this before! So pathetic. If I could I would do it all over again, just to relive the moment of seeing his scared dying eyes, the empty look in his face when life hits death and his body runs cold. This was the best day of my fucking life. How I wonder, would my mother be proud of me or would she hate me now? She hated that man. He’s the reason why she killed herself. Do we get to discuss this one day, mother?

But this is also a beginning of a whole new (paranoid) chapter. It’s the first thing the very next morning that Jussu was trying to make me clear. I realized my mind was still not fully ‘there’, far away from recovery, as I was sitting on the couch feeling empty but yet still being ‘there’ in the moment of last night’s activities. But Jussu is a rude son of a bitch and just like many people having patience dealing with my absent schizo mind most of the time, Jussu didn’t have time for that at all. He slapped me in the face a million times to wake me up, screaming at me. For once, I was treated like a normal human being, equally, not the kind of being to be concerned about all the time. However, it kind of helped me to wake up a little. Just the way my father rolled, as he had no time for my mental instability, even though my father struggled with schizophrenia himself. So… I hope I can keep this in control, feeling mentally instable like this, there’s a possibility I could think Jussu actually IS my father. But please, don’t get too lost in my mind, I thought to myself. And so did Jussu say, as he yelled at me, “you’re gonna do exactly what I’m telling you, and one thing specially; DO NOT GET LOST IN YOUR HEAD”. Jussu is not the kind of man to fuck with, he’s been in this business for 20 years, a dangerous man with blood on his hands. I have to accept the lines of my new boss. He’s 53 years old, smells awfully, drinks and smokes a lot, looks like Santa Claus. He’s the kind of man you have to get to know better until he becomes nice to you. Sounds like a 53 -years old me. This man, he’s gonna make sure nobody finds out as long as I bring these supplies safely to England. In return I get some stacks to flee. He makes sure I will get away with the situation to continue my life. I have to trust him on that.

It’s one week later now and we have left the country awhile ago. We’ve been traveling from the north of Finland all the way to the south of Germany now. I will not recall the exact locations because I’m dealing with crazy paranoia these days. About that; it reminds me of how ill I am, in my mind, that in times like these schizophrenia is really trying to kill me. I struggle a lot, but I try to drown the darkness in my mind by drinking vodka all day. But honestly, this is what I get in return, I was aware of that even before the action. I knew I would become very paranoid, I always do when I do ‘such things’. I had to flee from The Netherlands back in 2012, for the same reason but not as dramatic as this time. I still haven’t gone back to that country, and I still live with a second identity – I got rid off the paranoia for just a bit since that time, I mean life keeps you busy, but it’s always there, and now I’m fleeing again the paranoia and voices hit me like a backlash, like a powerful storm. These days I’m reminded of how sick I am, although I have my tricks to ignore whatever it is that I hear in my mind, but it’s really fucking bad. My life is now separated in two sides; fleeing and trying to continue with my life, making sure that everything ends up fine, literally fighting for my freedom and my peace- but I am also feeling extremely down, suicidal you could say, because well, they keep screaming at me devastating words, scaring me by making me feel so paranoid, and it really puts me in a terrible mood. Sometimes I feel like crying or whatever. It’s that bad, and I truly mean that because usually I’m very detached and disconnected from my emotional side. But I gotta man-up for now, get through this misery like I did the last time I caused this kind of mayhem. Jussu will keep me distracted until he drops me off at the harbor in France. But we’re not there yet, it’s still a few days to go.

I just hope everything goes well for the upcoming time. I wouldn’t easily hurt a random person this bad, but this was my sweet revenge, I had to do it for myself, to feel emotionally free again, and I like to call it an act of self defense for my emotional progress. It was always him who haunted my mind, knowing he was still there trying to destroy me from a far distance. This is not the solution to kill my past traumas which he caused me, but he did not have the right to continue to live a life where he’s put the sickest marks on people without remorse, without a single ‘sorry’, a sorry for what he did to me and my mother, ..just until he was about to take his last breath, his wickedness reduced a bit and I could hear him whispering an excuse. I suppose it was too late. I finally had the power over him, and it was the sweetest feeling I’ve ever felt. Oh… how I would love to relive that night over and over again. I have no regrets at all, and I couldn’t feel more satisfied.

If I have to explain you why I feel no remorse about what I did to my father, it’s because I don’t see him as my father in the first place. Second, I lack empathy and I don’t even come close to feeling remorse or sorry to most people. But about my father, it’s because he never behaved like a father to me. I didn’t really have a father. He was just there, all the time, day and night, giving me and my mother nightmares. He was a demon in our house, and has been telling me that there’s a demon inside of him since I was little. He was viciously violent, aggressive, threatening and a danger to his surroundings. He threw knifes around the house, he attacked me or my mother out of the sudden without any warning. Sometimes I think of it as a miracle that I survived my youth with him. I don’t know what made him do what he did to us, it’s his aggressive nature, which is something I deal with, too, but he couldn’t stop. There were not periods where he was even a little bit nice to me, or trying to behave like a father should. He was a Satanist, which shouldn’t be a bad thing at all, but he was just very dramatic about it. He saw himself as a “God”, and he taught me to do the same. He was addicted to alcohol, cocaine and heroin, never sober, and he forced me to take these kind of drugs when I was a child (except heroin, that happened in my teens). But he did taught me how to prepare and inject heroin in his veins when I was 6 years old, and when my mother would interfere in the situation, he would beat her up right in front of me until she lies unconsciously on the ground. My father was not really a big guy, he always reminded me of a skinny Peter Steele type of man, the long black hair, the metal -look, the angry look in his eyes. And even though he was not really physically big, he was very strong once his anger was triggered; probably caused by a combination of adrenaline and cocaine. Whatever my mother and I did in situations like that, which happened almost every day, we couldn’t fight him. We couldn’t stop him. My mother and I, we had no rights. We had to listen to my father, as we were his slaves. He raped us. He abused us. He stabbed me in the back when I was 17 years old when I was trying to escape from home during the night, as I was climbing out of my window, he stabbed me once in the back and I fell out of the window down on the ground – I’ve been in the hospital several times because of his acts. He always told me how he wanted to kill my mother, how he planned it all out, and after he killed her he would kill me. It was funny, because on the night I was with him a few weeks ago, to make him suffer, I looked around his house and saw papers full with a plan to kill me, papers and documents that went on for years. He never had the possibility to do so. But back in the old days, there was no chance for me and my mother, he tortured us for such a long time. I never wanted to take my friends to my home to hang out because I was ashamed of the whole situation, like my father saying crazy stuff, and the entire house covered with drug marks, sometimes blood on the walls because of all the abuse and what not. My father always said to me right before I left the house to go to school, that I should be home right after school to do heroin with him, and if I didn’t listen to him he would rape me. So, that’s how I got addicted to that stuff, but sometimes I couldn’t show up right after school, and I would receive the backlash during night. It was so fucking awful. It happened for years and years, over and over again. It made me sick. And I was dealing with crazy mental issues in my head, I went fully insane.

I’ve been dreaming about killing my father ever since I was a kid, because he was the demon in our house. I wrote songs about it, made paintings about it. All of my crazy fantasies lead to killing him. It started when he drowned my dog when I was a child, in the lake near our house in Finland. When I got home from school and I was looking for my dog everywhere around the house. Scooby, it was a miniature bull terrier, I got him for my birthday and it was the only thing that brought me happiness. Because my mother was always busy with my little brother Jesse, who was a baby back then, and I felt like she didn’t care about me anymore so Scooby became my best friend. And as I walked miles in the woods to find him, looked about 10 times in the shed, but only to find him lying dead in the lake, drowned, and my father was the one to blame for. He was standing right next on the land with that stupid smirk on his face that he always had whenever he did something evil. Something crazy. “That annoying bark is gone now, it’s gonna be you and me now”, I remember him saying. It was so fucking traumatic. It must have been one of my first childhood traumas. My father, he was a sadist, a sociopath, like a narcissist, a PSYCHOPATH, he liked to play with fire, with lives. He didn’t feel empathy, or emotion at all, just evilness and anger.

But just like my dog, he had been trying to drown me, too, while on a vacation to Finland when I was 15. He drugged me, I don’t know what he put in my drinks but it made me very dizzy. I don’t remember it clearly because I was out of this world, but I do remember him pushing my head under water in the lake, while he was screaming at me to die, he kept pushing me deeper and deeper under water, and eventually it was my uncle Anton who saved my life that time. He yelled at my father to quit that shit. And for some reason, my father doesn’t listen to anyone except for his own brothers. I don’t really remember what happened right after that. It’s not the first time he tried to kill me. During my teens, we lived in The Netherlands, where we had a dark basement where he did all his Satanic rituals, soul offering, prayers to the Devil, he dragged my mother and I into the whole Satanism thing. I consider myself a Satanist, but as a normal Satanist, I’m not an obsessed freak about it like my father was. While my mother was Jewish, it was especially her my father wanted to make her a Satanist and make her tell it to her family. The basement was very well isolated, you couldn’t hear a thing what was going downstairs in the basement when you were standing in the living room. My neighbors, they had no idea. They did know about my father, he was the notorious Satanist of the entire town, but they didn’t know what was really going on inside of the house. In that basement, he sexually abused me, at least once a week, as a punishment. I wasn’t a good person myself, and I refused to listen to him sometimes. He just wanted control over me and my mother with his stupid demands. I’m really trying to accept what happened, and for a greater part in my life I couldn’t talk about what happened in my past, but writing really helps. It’s just the sexual abuse part in my life that I still find very difficult to open up about. It pains me, still, even when I’m writing about it. And I still dream and see flashbacks about it very often that it completely paralyzes me to the bone. Whenever he dragged me down to the basement and started to rape me, to own me and control me, because that was his purpose, not because he was gay, it was so painful and as I was crying and screaming, he made it even worse. He yelled at me the kind of things, “I’m gonna rape ‘til death if you don’t shut your mouth”. He taped my mouth sometimes. It was very frightening because every time it happened I thought I was going to die, and sometimes, I just surrendered and let it happen, just wanting to die.

I’m in England now. I have arrived in Dover about 5 days ago. I still had the supplies with me, luckily, and everything went well. But what a terrible experience it was on the boat on my way to England. Fucking Hell. I went crazy. I was so scared the police were following me, and I constantly looked behind my back, I do so ever since I left Finland. I became so insanely paranoid to the point I became delusional when I literally saw a police man running up to me with a gun in his hand, screaming at me, I just fainted. It just went black for my eyes, I realized the voices stopped whispering, too. I woke up with a middle aged woman by my side, a British woman. She told me that I fainted and fell down on the ground, she was thinking I might be seasick so she offered me aspirin and I was all confused. I had no idea what I was saying but it was not properly English, or Finnish, I couldn’t get my speech in order. She found out that I was mentally confused and I had to spend the rest of my boat trip at the doctor where I refused to speak because I was dealing with illegality and crazy mental issues at the time. I didn’t want people around me at all.

I was happy to leave the boat where my friend Jaimy was there to pick me up. I know Jaimy from the same business but I met him in high school back in The Netherlands. We haven’t seen each other in years. We were in a fight because we both did something to a certain person, and I had to flee and so did he, and he refused to talk to me so I got pissed at him. I was not happy when he contacted me again after so many years, after everything that happened. But I had to go somewhere, and since he has a place in London now and takes part of the same business I ended up in now, he is the safest person to be with now. He picked me up at Dover harbor, as he was all excited to see me and acted all cool around me, I went really quiet. I wanted to talk but I still had to deal with the voices in my head that made my mind a chaos which causes me to speak pretty much disorganized and everything, it wouldn’t make any sense. I remember thinking, it’s better to keep my mouth shut. I heard 3 voices at the same time, 2 alien figures and Jaimy talking, in Dutch as well which made it even more confusing, so I just had to open the window and have some fresh air. I heard Jaimy saying, “dude, are you okay?” I saved all my energy to make my speech work as I turned to him and said, “no offense but can you shut your mouth for one second?” I really felt sick in my mind. He kept his mouth shut for the next hour until we arrived at his place. We went inside and he offered me some booze. Hell yeah, did I need that shit. Alcohol makes me function properly, and I’m glad Jaimy still remembered. After a few drinks I started to talk more, voices were still there but I could concentrate on my own words again. Jaimy noticed how I’ve went through stuff the past few weeks, it’s something you can easily notice - I lose weight, I have this scared, paranoid look in my eyes with a layer of bags underneath my eyes, I become twice as pale as usual. And especially my behavior tells everything. “I’m going to fix you, mate” he told me. He offered me some more booze. It was a good night.

The third day in London, I became very stressed and paranoid about everything again. I woke up during the night, suddenly, thinking

This shit doesn’t feel right. Why Jaimy of all the people? He must have something to do with this all. He has not spoken to me in years and out of nowhere he comes back in my life. Maybe he’s with the cops, maybe he’s my rivalry.

I tried to go back to sleep but these thoughts kept me wide awake. It became even worse.

What if he is trying to kill me? Maybe Jussu is my rivalry too, maybe every single person I spoke along the way is against me and trying to kill me. Fucking Hell, I need to get out of here before they have their revenge.

I got out of bed and was looking around the house for weapons that Jaimy might have hidden for me. I went to get a knife to defend myself, as I was walking to Jaimy sleeping in his bed. I woke him up and he jumped. “Calm down, man”, he said. I told him about the realization I just had. Thinking this is just an odd and suspicious situation. He tried to talk me out of it and I no longer had the knife in my hand. But in return, I wanted to look through his phone to see if he didn’t have any deals with people from the business about trying to kill me. He told me to just relax and go back to sleep. As I replied that maybe he should just listen to me now, in situations like these. That if he will not listen to what I demand, I’m going to be in the mood to kill him anyway. I need proof. So, I got his phone and went searching for an hour. All I found out was how many bitches Jaimy has and that he’s addicted to gambling games. A few texts with people from the business but he never mentioned my name. Sure, I apologized.

Situations like these happened for another few times but Jaimy fixed Xanax for me to help my anxiety go away, my paranoia for just a bit. I still hear voices but when I’m on Xanax they don’t really get to me. The fourth day in England I finished the deal, as I got stacks in return. It was a scary moment but yet very exciting, and I realized how much I missed the thrill of being in this business. At least I have some money with me now, but not enough to rent an apartment in New York City or Los Angeles- I suppose only for six months or so. But I need to continue to be part of this business for a while, to make some more stacks. I’m familiar with some of the people here. I know I can really get into this stuff again. In a way, I’m just like my father but with the unnecessary violence. I do like violence, but only to those who deserve it, who damage me and betray me. But now I have shaken him off my back, I feel like not only my life is going to change ; I feel myself slightly change. But I’m always changing, always going places. Eventually, I got rid off the biggest bug in my life, my father. That’s all that matters to me now.

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eastendeagle-blog · 5 years

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FEBRUARY

My mind is not alright but I try to write the most sensitive I can. Fuck! Currently, I don’t have hard feelings or emotions, I’m just really angry all the time. I’ll get back on that later on. I suppose I shouldn’t write this while stuffing my nose with blow, but yet I’m curious about the results. I love to challenge myself. Maybe my March post will be a different kind again, who knows. Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the birthday party. The party was great. I was still quite stable back then. I went back to the clinic for another week and everything went well. I was given the decision to continue the treatment for another 2 weeks but I was actually sick of feeling prisoned and hanging out with mentally disturbed people. I just wanted my freedom back, to do whatever I want. It’s a dangerous thing, I was aware of, but I gave it a shot. Besides, things were going that great for me that I thought it’d be safe to go home again. So, I did, and the first couple of days were just fine. Until I met some dealers in the club and started to hang out with them. They offered me coke, and I can’t resist a bit of blow. It makes me feel confident, fearless, a king on my throne. Normally, I’m a really modest guy, I don’t brag about stuff like how I got my degree in Innovation Sciences and Mathematics, or the fact I’m an excellent guitarist and drummer – I don’t brag about it, it makes me shy, but fuck, when I use coke I am not afraid to show people how intelligent and talented I am. And I love the fact that I feel free to tell the world about it. I just want to feel free. Those are just examples, by the way, I’m a real asshole when I’m on cocaine. I can socialize with people but once they say one slightly risky thing I can easily beat them up, or when they interrupt me in the middle of a sentence. I do have an aggressive nature, even back to the days when I didn’t use cocaine when I was a young teenager, I was extremely violent towards people around me, but I suppose it was to protect myself. So whenever I do cocaine, I feel like I’m the most important person in the world, need a lot of attention, and I become very aggressive when people start acting shitty to me or disagree with me in an argument. I quit my cocaine habit for awhile, though, because it made me a completely different person. Once it became so bad… I would love to tell you all about it… but it was that violent that it caused blood on my hands. That’s all I can say. I’m not going to be open about it, because otherwise my paranoia strikes at me again, and it ruins my high. I’m willing to kill when on cocaine, it’s that bad. (Or is it a bad thing, really?) It makes me a monster, but sometimes, I love it when that monster shows up. It’s a part of me I can embrace.

I was back at it again. The cocaine in Finland is pretty damn good, a few birdies told me it’s from Russia. But back at the story and here comes the shittiest thing that changed everything - I normally would get lost in my drug habit and don’t give a damn, but I had to deal with my friend and roommate, Joone. I promised him not to do drugs while living with him. So the first couple of days I could hide my high very well, I was high while he didn’t even know. I was high all day and night, he never realized. Even when he was talking about different brands and textiles of clothes, and I became very much over-involved and passionate talking about him about his gay stuff. He didn’t even realize, still, he had no idea. While normally I would be really laid back, careless and just nod all the time. Until at one point, and it all happened very quickly. I remember I was listening to Electric Wizard and snorting my blow, I was feeling so good. He came up to my room and almost busted me, I guess after all he hadn’t seen anything. But I got insanely furious at him for disturbing me, so I ran after him and grabbed him by his shoulder, so that’s when he fell down on the ground, as I spit on him. I love to spit on people. I yelled crazy stuff at him. I have no idea what I was saying but it probably wasn’t that sweet, at all. In that moment, I really felt so fucking empowered that I wanted to kill him. I remember thinking, I wish I had something sharp in my pockets to stab him. I was completely raged. The thing was, I didn’t really care for the fact I wanted to stab Joone, I forgot for a moment it was Joone, a very supportive friend of mine, but there was just an intense amount of adrenaline flowing through my body. Joone was all confused but angry as well, as he is stronger than me he stood up and threw me on the floor and held me down for a while. He said all kinds of things, but he remained calm, “what is it this time? Is it your insanity? Or a demon in your head? What the fuck are you doing, bitch?” I tried to break free from him, but he was way too strong. I think I said something like, “I want my freedom back”, I think I said so a hundred of times. I think it was some kind of despair that I was calling out. I don’t know what happened, but Joone looked me in the eyes and said, “you’re fucking high, aren’t you..” he sounded disappointed. He let go of me and quickly walked up to my room. He saw my coke and he looked at my chaotic, messy room. I was still very pissed but I didn’t feel like attacking him again, but the image of me killing him was still there in my mind; maybe some other day. He turned around and looked at me and said “you’re going to pack your bags now, I want you out of this house” but of course, I refused to leave, my ego and pride were a major problem to accept such a command like that. He sounded like all my fucking exes and it’s giving me nightmares. It made me really aggressive once again. I pushed him away and ran to the kitchen to grab something sharp. I saw the perfect knife to make a bloody mess. When I walked back at him, he was standing there with his phone in his hand. He showed me from a distance how he was dialing the 112 number (Europe’s 911 number). He told me to let go of the knife or he would call the police and he would tell them everything he knew about my criminal background. I put the knife down, passed him and packed my bags. I didn’t say a word anymore. I just gave him ‘the stare’. I put my music in my ears and made sure I brought my coke with me and two bottles of vodka to keep me warm, to be up and going outside in the cold weather.

It was insanely cold outside, I quickly realized. I had nowhere to go, but I’ve been on the streets before, only the cold weather was a real problem this time. It made me think of the warmth heroin gives me, how it could save me in times like this. I decided to hang out at the train station during the night, get wasted to keep me warm, and save the coke for tomorrow. I was thinking about taking the train up north to Hyvinkää the next day. I just needed to keep moving. When I was homeless in New York for a month, I felt much more comfortable since I had heroin, and I wasn’t the only homeless person in the city. While here in Finland, there are literally no homeless people so I got stared down a lot by people passing by. I was packed in three layers of clothes, I had a blanket wrapped around me, I was lying on a bunch just outside the train station. I got really boozed up to keep myself warm, I eventually fell asleep for at least a few hours. A cop woke me up and commanded me to leave the place, he looked at me with full disgust. I threw my finger at him and oh, we had an argument. I said “I’m not going with you in your shitty car this time, I’m leaving now”. Luckily the cop agreed with me. It was six in the morning and I took the train to Hyvinkää.

I arrived in Hyvinkää and started my morning trip with some blow. I was snorting like a crazy pig in the toilets of the train station. But I had to, I felt tired and hangover, I needed some energy. Then I posted something on Facebook, I believe, that’s when my uncle contacted me and told me he wanted to pick me up from the streets. I was in doubt at first, but I was freezing my nuts off, and I was reminded of how much drugs he has at his place. Weed, cocaine, vodka, heroin. Besides, of all my Finnish family, he is my favorite uncle. He is my father’s brother, but he’s a much calmer person. He doesn’t suffer from schizophrenia or any mental issues, he’s far from aggressive, but he’s still weird since he is involved with all Satanic things just like my father, but I’m used to that kind of stuff. At least he has a job and a wife. He has a son, Matias, he’s my favorite cousin. We used to hang out a lot when I visited Finland during holiday breaks while I was living in The Netherlands. I thought, why not, eh? I needed a fucking place even though my death wish is still going on strong, but I don’t want to freeze to death. Just fucking stab me until I bleed to death or strangle me and make it slow and painful, I wish for intense pain; not to freeze, it’s fucking pathetic! So, I was waiting for my uncle to pick me up. I hadn’t seen him in six years. I was waiting on quite a busy crossroad and I felt the rush of cocaine hitting me, I was completely zoned out of reality. I was listening to Black Sabbath and I wanted to kick somebody in the face. I was living in my own world. I was thinking about killing my father, how I would do it, where I’m gonna bury that fucker. Fuck, I hate that fucking shitfaced pig. Then, some fucking dude, he passed me by but pushed me by accident, and it made me really violent. I ran after him, grabbed him by his coat and spit on him, once again, like I did to Joone. I pushed him against the wall and yelled at him to watch the fuck out. I saw in his eyes that he was terrified. He was dealing with a lunatic. He apologized a thousand times, and while in the middle of rage, I heard a car honking and someone screaming my name, “Aleksander! Leave that man alone and get in the car”. I turned around, it was my uncle waiting for me in his car that was parked aside of the road. I let go of the man who disturbed my high. I got in the car with my uncle and the first thing he said was, “you must be really desperate to show such disrespect to your fellow humans”. I wanted to say all things but I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. I saw how my uncle stuffed his nose with some blow while he was driving. I was reminded once again of where I come from. “I was about to offer some to you but it’s clear you’ve had enough for the day”, he said very calm, while he tapped the gas. “I never have enough of cocaine, Anton. I need it.” I said being all passive aggressive. “That’s what all junkies say” he said laughing.

We were at his home in the suburbs of Hyvinkää. Imagine, a peaceful place out in the Scandinavian scenery. A quiet neighbourhood with some farms and wild animals crossing the road now and then. It wasn’t as remoted from the people as the place I grew up in, back in Lapland. There were still people to see, neighbours but they were all inside the house because it’s a very cold Winter. The scenery was pretty to see, it made me fall in love with my fatherland once again. Covered in a thick blanket of snow, the trees all white, the sky so blue. My uncle has this typical Scandinavian red little house, and it reminded me of the house I grew up in. It reminded me of my childhood but with less darker energy, I could feel when we arrived there. My uncle owns his own car company together with his son, he has a wife who is a nurse, she smokes and drinks a lot. She’s a little crazy but I can’t think of a different person that suits a man like my uncle. At least he has a wife, my father and my other uncle Jamu are single fuckers, obviously. It’s an odd family, but compared to the household where I grew up in, it was OK to stay here for awhile. My uncle would take care of me, and I wanted somebody to take care of me without judging me or constantly keeping an eye on whatever the fuck I’m doing. If I want to do drugs, he will let me do it, and he’ll be my tripsitter, if not my cousin. So, my uncle and I had a lot of catching up to do. We drank some vodka and smoked some weed, he lightened some candles on and we were just chilling on the couch. He wanted me to quit cocaine for just the day, and take downers instead so I can chill my ass and act more naturally, instead of being frustrated and angry at everything all the time. I was talking about my life in New York City and how much of roller coaster ride I’ve been on the past couple of years. He responded in a very sympathetic manner and I appreciated it a lot. Now that I’m a little bit older, I came to discover that Anton is actually a really good person. He’s not entirely healthy, in the sense that he’s dealing with a daily cocaine and alcohol addiction, day and night, even at work. He told me he’s doing less heroin these days, because he was developing physical problems as he’s been doing heroin for 25 years and he’s getting older now, everything will work against him in the end. But he’s doing heroin on weekends, and luckily I arrived during the weekend.

It’s been two months since I quit heroin. I’ve felt incredibly sick having to kick my habit, physically and mentally. It took me three weeks to feel a little bit better. It was so hard, but I had to do it, for me and for my friend, Joone. On Saturday night, my uncle was preparing to smoke some heroin. “You mind if I’m chinesing?” I shook my head. But I was really hungry for it. He held a lighter underneath the tinfoil with heroin and there was an explosion of heroin scent spreading around the room. I smelled it, and I started to get all sweaty like a real fucking junkie. I saw how relaxed Anton became, as he lied down and closed his eyes. I saw how he nearly lost control of the heroin he was still holding in his hand so I grabbed his stuff and put it down on the table in front of his. Usually, Anton is quite a talkative man, but he became so quiet and peaceful with a huge smirk on his face. He put his arm around me and said, “someday, everything’s gonna work out for the better for you”, he still looked so fucking peaceful. “Maybe”, I said, slightly depressed. I looked at his face and I could feel how good he must felt. I went a little crazy inside, I knew I wanted to do it. I heard voices in my head, they were encouraging me to take a hit. So, I was going to lose this battle anyway. My mind became chaotic. I leant towards to table with my hands in my hair. I’ve been in that same position for a minute of two. Sometimes the despair just hits me at once. Then, Anton leant towards me and put his arm around me again, and said very slowly, “you’re gonna want it if you need it”. He took another few hits of the heroin and handed it over to me. I decided to take a few hits, the voices won once again. I suddenly became completely flooded with warmth and euphoria, this otherworldly feeling. Fuck, it’s just amazing. I leant back into the couch and I felt like I was sinking in the couch so deeply, to another level of this Earth. I remember saying, “fuck, this feels so heavenly”, as I heard my speech echoing and began to sense everything in slow-motion, a dream-like state. I lost grip of reality but it was okay. I remembered how good it feels again. We’ve been lying there like two people living their lives in their fantasies. We probably looked like two idiotic couch potatoes, but the feeling you get is just indescribable. You’re just floating and everything is okay. All anxiety and pain, past memories and traumas, it’s all gone and you’re completely out of this world, like you’re wandering around in a different dimension.

The day after I woke up in a bed and I had no idea how I ended up in this bed, but I did. I came out of the room and saw Matias for the first time in years, it was so great to see him. It was around 10 in the morning and we were drinking tea with vodka, listening to Black Sabbath. I really felt nacious from the heroin, I really felt like my body needed more but I just decided to fight it back with alcohol and cocaine for the day until I get the chance to do heroin again, but I wasn’t sure of what Anton might think. I would love to use heroin every day, but he’s only using it on weekends. Matias is a cool dude, he’s just a heavy drinker like most of us Finns. He has tried everything when it comes to drugs but he’s the best at drinking vodka. I think we got pretty wasted until 4 in the afternoon, when Anton came home from his work (I have no idea how he did that since he’s been on heroin all night), and he brought some food and cocaine as desert. He told me that I can use his cocaine but never steal from him, as he continued an entire speech about how our Dark Lord doesn’t appreciate stealing and cheating, this and that. He told me that he can fix cocaine and heroin for me but as long as I pay for it, since it’s quite fucking expensive, especially here in Finland (for some reason). I told Anton that I really didn’t feel like looking for a job, or at least a normal fucking job. He immediately offered me a job at his car company in town, he was in need for a new car engineer. He told me that he knew about my journey of when I walked away from my home in The Netherlands back in 2009, I walked all the way to France, because I was sick of home; I had no intention to work as a car mechanic in France but I realized that I had no money left anymore and I had to save some to survive, so that’s when I started a job as a car engineer. Besides, I fucking love cars. So he offered me the job and I have no trouble fixing engines and what not, but my head is truly a mess, and I can’t deal with customers because I’m constantly fucking raged about everything, even without cocaine. He told me that I could work part-time and I said I would give it a try.

Sum-up of everything that has happened in the past month? I got out of the clinic -> got involved with cocaine dealers, therefore a cocaine addiction -> friend kicked me out -> became homeless -> uncle offered me a place to stay for the upcoming period -> more cocaine -> hello heroin habit -> a job as a car engineer. Funny how things turn out as I go from A to Z within a month. I have no fucking clue what’s gonna happen to me the next month. I will be writing a different post in the meantime about my deepest, darkest and twisted fantasies about killing my father. I know cocaine helps me keep those fantasies as clear as water, but I notice how those feelings slowly slip away now I’m using heroin again. But I still want to fucking kill him.

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eastendeagle-blog · 5 years

Text

JANUARY

I’m not sure how it happened, but it happened again. Once I lose control over it, it’s game over for me. It’s a scary feeling to be out of touch with reality, when my mind takes full control of what I’m doing – sure, that’s what a mind is for, but unlike other people, those are the demons that take over control.

Moving to Helsinki was supposed to be a new beginning for me. I was happy Joone trusted me enough to give me the opportunity to live with him in the city, otherwise I would be living in the streets of New York by now. I was going to share an apartment with him but only under a few conditions: first one; to quit heroin and cocaine, and slow down on the alcohol. Second; to behave properly, which only works for me if I follow anger management classes again and see a therapist. I was going to start at my new job on January 15, a software engineering job – it was a big opportunity for me to get my life back again. Make money and save money to move back to New York. The first week in Finland was terrible, a living nightmare, truly. I was withdrawing from heroin and cocaine – I was sweating, feeling paranoid, behaving very aggressive towards people around me. I could easily smack someone. I have never seen Joone that moody before, I could see at his face that he was done with me. And he’s always the happy, fun guy who wants to keep things positive all the time. He ordered a seat on the other side of the plane because I ‘embarrassed’ him. When we landed in Helsinki, we had to meet the Airloft staff for an explanation. Great. That was just our flight journey, but it continued to be like that for the rest of the week at least.

I didn’t have any drugs, and I had to wait for my antipsychotics to come overseas, which was due to the end of the month. I felt really scared when I was sober, I was on the edge of losing myself. I knew it was coming, I could feel it. Anything could trigger it. But I tried to stay strong, and sometimes when I felt really messed up I just drank a bottle of vodka which helped me go through the day. Joone was not happy with it, clearly, while he was busy making plans to renovate and design the house. I just couldn’t be there where his mind was at that point. I became an insomniac; I couldn’t sleep without medication or drugs, I hardly slept 2-3 hours on a night and because of that I became delusional. I had dreams about my childhood with my father back in Finland. What he did to me and to my mother, the smells of rotten flesh, the tracks of blood on the walls – and even when I woke up in bed, I saw my father bending over me wanting to strangle me with his bare hands, and it made me panic, and felt like I was suffocating. But it was only a delusion, I realized everytime Joone ran up to me to help me. Joone was very concerned, while he had a busy job himself he couldn’t fully focus on because of the care he had of me. And it made me feel bad, like the fucking bug I am, the stress I cause for the people around me that love me. So, what I do is detach myself from those people by isolating myself or walking away from home – I don’t like the feeling of bothering people with my crazy mind all the time; enough is enough. I needed a break from my people, but the dangerous thing about is that I have time alone for myself, and just in those times when I feel like I’m on the edge of something scary, it can be seriously triggering.

Moving to Finland reminds me of all of the things that went wrong in my life. This is the land where I was born, where the misery started right away. I was born in the wrong family. My mother was a sweetheart, but my father’s negativity ruled my life; no one or nothing could beat his negativity – negativity in a sense that was not just emotional and physical abuse, he made me feel very frightened about life on a very young age. He made me believe in Devils, witches, he showed me what murder is like (he has some blood on his hands), he showed me what happens to a human and animal corpses once it dies. He literally, showed me, in front of his eyes. In Satanic ritual nights, we went into the woods, with other members of the Satanist community including family members. I was about 4 years old when I saw my father stick a sword in a goat’s heart, with a big smile on his face, to sacrifice the goat by burning it to ashes. Everybody was clapping and yelling. I remember I was crying and I wanted to escape and go back home but my father busted me, got insanely furious, tied me up to a tree and left me there during the whole night on my own in the woods. There were fucking bears there. Lucky for me it was around May, so the temperature wasn’t that cold anymore. But traumas like these will stick with me for the rest of my life. The way he behaved at home was insane, my father is a true lunatic. Very paranoid, schizophrenic, but more than all, the Devil himself; and he believes to be; he is a Satanist, and as a Satanist you have to believe to be your own ‘God’, and that’s the motto he lives by. He could do anything to me and my mother. He had no boundaries. He would abuse me in front of my mother’s eyes until the point I blacked out, when all I remember was how I heard my mother hysterically crying and screaming, and my father hysterically laughing like some psychopath. After several smacks I wasn’t even conscious anymore. But it happened every week. I remember the sleepless nights I had as a child, when my father would sneak up to my room and tell me one of his ghost/witch stories, right after that he wanted to touch me. And he didn’t want me to scream for my mother, so he pushed a pillow on my head and nearly suffocated me, while he was doing all kinds of things. And I remember all the restlessness I experienced as a child. Everything was so terrifying. I never knew the feeling of safety, it wasn’t there; my mother could give me it to me for just a moment, until my father disturbed it once again. And these are just a few memories, but I could write a book full of them.

I struggle with not just schizophrenia, but very intense PTSD, and ever since I came back to Finland, I constantly see flashbacks from my past. Just split moments of those traumas, but the most horrifying images flash before my eyes. In combination with schizophrenia, it can make me very delusional. Just about the moment I mentioned earlier, how I saw and felt my father strangling me when I woke up from nightmares.

Just one night, I remember walking out the door, without telling Joone, without telling anybody, knowing it wasn’t a very good idea, but somehow I felt like I needed it, like some kind of trance I ended up in. I sat on the stairs of the city centre in Helsinki – it was snowing – I was cold and alone, smoking cigarette after cigarette. My first day at work was the day after tomorrow. I remember thinking, ‘now this is a realistic thought I’m having’. But that thought quickly faded away. I don’t know, I just couldn’t live in reality anymore, it took me too much effort to keep pushing myself back in reality, because I felt my mind constantly wandering off. Thinking about my past; the urge and desire I have to kill my father; how sorry I feel for my mother all the time; how I became the mentally fucked up person I am today; how I fuck shit up, how I blame all the misery on my father; my drug habit I’ve been dealing with since age 16. All of that… it doesn’t go away. I need to accept the loop I’m living in. And sometimes I can not believe I am alive. Barely alive. Physically, well, I’m physically strong. But mentally… Mentally I am so damaged… That I doubt if things will ever be OK with me. I was lost in thoughts.

Then, suddenly, I saw a woman with a child walking by. The child was about the age of 10, I believe. However, it took all of my focus and made all of my thoughts go away. They were walking in the snow, the child was laughing- they were clearly happy. I stood up from the stairs and followed them. I believe that was the point where the psychosis was triggered. I followed them and yelled, “Keila!”; it seemed to feel so right to me. That was my daughter walking there. I ran up to them and I saw the mother protecting her child as she yelled at me. She yelled “Apua!”, means ‘help’ in Finnish. I told her that that child is my daughter. I was very confused but I knew I was right, I was completely convinced, but why is Keila with that woman? It made me frustrated. The woman became aggressive towards me and started to push me away. I wanted to take Keila with me, but she started crying. Later on, I realized there were some people watching the situation. It made me uncomfortable. I looked at Keila, and my mind went empty. The mother yelled at me all kinds of things like ‘pedophile’ and ‘creep’. I wanted to say a lot of things but no words came out. She yelled at me that she was going to call the police and that’s the moment when I took off. I ran away. I kept running for about 10 minutes. I stopped to smoke a cigarette, somewhere in an alley. I started to experience the world around me somewhat foggy and blurry, and I remember I was detaching from reality. Yes, I heard a voice inside my head that made everything worse, whispering to me that I am a creep, and it is my fault Keila is dead now. This certain voice I hear, is very important to me, because he speaks the truth and all of my deepest insecurities. When he comes it’s panic time. I saw people walking by but I knew they weren’t real. The cars passing by, they weren’t real. And I looked to the sky and I felt so alone, and scared. Like the child I was back in the woods, left alone tied up to a tree. Abandoned. Frightened. And I remembered Keila in my mind, the sweet child I lost. I finally came to the realization how much I miss her. All the time in New York I was doing drugs to forget about her. Not just my past, most of the time it was her.. The memory I was pushing away. I figured I never really talked about her death with friends because what happened to her is probably the worst traumatic experience I have dealt with in my life. My father ended her in the most cruel way, like he’s been doing to a lot of people and gets away with it every time. And my father, he’s highly intelligent but it makes him behave like a fuck ass, but he is smart enough to hide from the police. From that point on, I couldn’t think about anything else but Keila. She is there, buried, in the woods where my father lives, my father knows where she is and I want to be the one to bury her, and say goodbye one last time. But unfortunately, my father lives in Lapland, which is about 800 kilometres away from Helsinki. But I was in complete trance and I probably seemed very disorganized and disturbed to the people around me, but I had to go to Kuusamo by train. Kuusamo, the little Santa Claus town. It’s beautiful there, but there’s a lot of dark energy going on. The demon inside my head encouraged the plan to find Keila’s body. “Do it”, it says repeatedly. Since that moment when I took the train, everything became to blurry to go in detail about this journey. I remember I was sitting in the train and felt all eyes looking at me, I probably have been talking to a wall or something, I acted very discomforting. I knew I was in a train but I was seeing and hearing all kinds of things that made me freak out. It was very bad. Everything was too vaguely to put into words. I do remember how things went completely confusing when two police women came up to me to talk. First thing I did was telling them that I never killed anybody, I wasn’t the guy they were looking for. I thought they wanted to arrest me for homicide. I’m still paranoid about everything that happened in the past, the blood on my hands that still smell so fresh to me. They took me with them out of the train into their car and I thought they were going to murder me, I thought those were two people dressed up as police women, they are spies from Russia. Oh, I was convinced. I started to panic and freak out and that’s when things esqualated like crazy. I’ve been put down on the floor and put in a cell for the night. Next morning, Joone came to visit me. He was very angry but very concerned about me and wondered what the Hell I’ve been up to. I never told him what I was up to. I was still very insane and everything and my speech was completely disorganized; I couldn’t really speak properly because my brain was bouncing around with thoughts. That always happens when I have a psychosis. I could hardly follow him but he thought it’s for the best to put me in a psychiatric hospital for the upcoming weeks, to shake the disease off, and until I get my medication from overseas. I agreed. He called me crazy for wanting to dig up Keila who’s been laying underneath the dirt for 4 years already. Maybe it is crazy but not for me in that moment.

The same day I went to the psychiatric hospital where I had a meeting with the chief. It was a terrible meeting because I couldn’t function properly. The world to me still felt like it was fake and I was still very focused on my journey to find Keila. Luckily, Joone was there next to me, and he told the chief about me, my health, my background. Next thing I knew I was placed in the public department. I still had no idea what was going on. I knew I had a lot of therapy sessions the first three days in the hospital. I was really numb, so I could get anything off my chest and it made it all sound so shallow. They gave me medication that just made my symptoms get even worse, but it gave my emotion back, which is not always a good thing. When I gain emotion back, I mostly get really frustrated and aggressive about everything. I can’t really say I’m a happy person, I don’t act like it. I see the world in black and white.

It was probably the 5th or 6th day in the hospital. I have a personal nurse, she’s really tough to me. I don’t know what happened in my mind, but I became very delusional and my mind made me believe that she was Keila’s mother. The girl I made pregnant when I was 17 on a vacation in Finland. And fuck, it made me angry. The nurse was talking to me about my medication but I didn’t believe her for shits. She wanted to poison me. It was Keila’s mother in disguise. I had to end her. I jumped up on her and put my hands around her neck, I wanted to strangle her. I yelled at her where Keila is, because I somehow believe she is still somewhere. I attacked her and I really felt so much adrenalin that I really wanted to finish her. But of course, there are cameras, guards everywhere around the place. The guards came to shake me off of her, they were pushing me on the ground, and I remember how I went totally crazy. I was so angry I didn’t kill her. She knew about Keila all along, and now she was trying to poison me with her medication that only made me feel worse. The guards bruised me, handcuffed me and dragged me to a different place of the building. Sometimes, in moments like this, my life is just like a movie. It’s a crazy thing but it just happens. I was put in an isolation cell. I had to stay in there until I calm down. But I have been here before, I know exactly what it is like to be in an isolation cell. It takes me back to the time when I was a kid living in a psychiatric institute in Russia, where I lived for a year in an isolation cell because, same thing; I was really aggressive.

My psychiatrist here, Kallio, she is a good person. She is about 60 years old and she’s really fun. She makes me feel calm. I was beeped up to come for a therapy session around 2 o’clock. I walked in her office and the first thing she said to me, “Oh honey, you look terrible”. I just like it when people are straight up honest. “I am terrible”, I answered. She shook her head and smiled at me, asked me to sit down on the chair next to her. We had a good conversation and she asked me about the situation that happened earlier, “a little dramatic of you, don’t you think?” Yes, I suppose. But I didn’t answer. She wanted to clear something up by mentioning the following symptoms; that she had seen my struggling with mood swings, how I could be easy and calm and next I turn into some kind of beast. The fact I can’t be cool around fellow patients in the public department because they made me aggressive very quickly. She mentioned my criminal background, how I still want to work illegally, and because I like the thrill of it- the fact that I still want to meet my father to kill him, it gives me the thrill of life. I always want to do something stupid; live my life on the edge. And my dramatic activity around here. She summed up to me and asked, “Has any doctor or psychiatrist in your life ever mentioned borderline personality disorder to you?”. Well, it made me laugh really hard. “I don’t want another label sticking on me for the rest of my life, Kallio. I have enough shit going on. What you call ‘borderline’ are to me just personality traits. I can be very expressive, that’s it.” And she gives me the ‘psychiatrist-stare’. I confessed, “OK, yes, they mentioned it earlier in my life. That I have borderline personality disorder, but that was a long time ago. I was probably 15 or something”. She nodded. But I looked at her suspiciously, and said “But I don’t want to have anything to do with it. I don’t want medication for it, I don’t want to label myself as a borderline person. I don’t want to be a person with paranoid schizophrenia AND borderline, you know how crazy that sounds?”. It made her laugh, she told me I’m not crazy. She promised me to leave it by the labels I know for now.

The next day. The nurse that I strangled was absent. She didn’t want to finish the treatment with me. Obviously. So I got a male nurse. Every morning they give me my medication but the voice in my head keeps convincing me that it’s the poison that is slowly trying to kill me. In the end, I take the medication but it takes a lot of time and effort for the nurses. I hated the medication they give to me. Back in New York, I had amazing stuff. It made me feel awake, and all the voices, the hallucinations and delusions were muted, not entirely, but for a greater part, yes, definitely. I told the nurse I’m waiting for better medication to arrive from the United States, which made me become very political and I told them in English, with my perfect New York accent, that Finland is a shot hole. That Finland is not important to anybody, and that everyone here are freaks; and I’m not talking about the people in the psychiatric hospitals, I’m talking about all population of Finnish people. I told them I was glad I was only 50% Finnish, and the rest English- which made me brag in a Sheffield account. I went kind of crazy again, very frustrated with everything. So I was sent back to Kallio’s office for another session. Right after that I became more calm again.

The next day. Joone came to visit me. He also told me I looked terrible. But he had a surprise for me, and he showed me my medication which arrived from overseas. It put a smile on my face and made me want to hug him. I felt much more comfort now I have those pills. I had to wait for my psychiatrist approval of the drugs, since it’s from America where any pills are stronger. But Kallio knew that the pills from Finland didn’t make me feel any better. Luckily, they were approved and I could start the next day with my new medication to see if things are going better for me. The next couple of days went so much better for me. I was placed back into the public department and I actually made a few friends, too. Kallio said I could celebrate my birthday at home, which was due on a Friday (perfect), but I had to be back the next day around 5 pm.

Friday, I woke up feeling great. I love my freedom and to have my freedom on my birthday is the best I could wish for. Joone picked me up with his car, and we drove to the south of the country. Back to Helsinki. I know I felt tired at the moment, just exhausted from the whole situation. Joone was talking about what to do with my birthday, who to invite, where to go, this and that. But I wasn’t that much of energy yet, even though I was excited. I don’t know, I just went really quiet after everything that has happened. Once we arrived at our new apartment, I saw how much effort Joone put in making the place look nice. Just lovely. He’s such a hard worker. I’m not a man of compliments, but you can sense it when I appreciate something. Joone and I decided to go out for dinner and party later at Tavastia, which is a rock club in Helsinki. It’s a good place. Joone was like, “you’re not going to drink much tonight, right? Since you’re on medication”. Well, once I drink, I’m gonna drink until I pass out. He was constantly saying it and I said “no, I’ll be careful”. But inside I was laughing. Of course I’m gonna drink. I’m 33 now, feel old as balls, I want to feel 23 again. We beeped up some of our friends, we don’t have many friends here yet, because we just moved here, but some old friends from pastimes were invited for my birthday mesh. I think we had dinner with 9 of us, which started around 6 until 8. Well, I couldn’t behave, I drank like there was no tomorrow. I think I had about 3 red wine, later on I went crazy on the vodka again. I just love vodka, it’s so good here in Finland. I was extremely tipsy, but so was Joone. I talked to him in the bathroom of the restaurant. “I’m drunk as shits, man”, while slurring my words. He was all happy like, “me too!”. I asked him if he cares about the fact I’m this drunk already and it will definitely get even worse tonight. He answered, “I don’t care. It’s your birthday. If you want to fuck yourself up, just do it. It’s your birthday. We’re gonna get shit faced anyway so I kind of expected it”. It made me feel so thankful for having that guy in my life. He’s all concerned and tough on me sometimes, but other times he doesn’t even care anymore and he still gives me the freedom to do whatever I want. He’s not going to boss around. I think I told him I love you or something.

We went back to pay and unto the next venue; Tavastia. Dark nightclub/bar sort of thing. Nothing can beat New York bars but as long as there’s booze, I’m not complaining. Joone and I made a deal how we’re both gonna get laid tonight and make it rough. Joone can easily get anybody, but quite frankly, we’re not in a gay bar this time so it’s gonna be 50/50 who’s gonna get the chicks. I’m a playful flirt, but I can’t be too drunk because it makes me really sloppy and it makes me want to skip the flirting part and go right over to the sexual part. I sometimes need to remind myself to be careful with girls. Women. Chicks. Especially when I’m drunk. We were with 6 people hanging at the bar, Joone and I, Joone’s sister; Eeva (she’s badass), Valtteri, Matleena and Seepo, people we met earlier while going out in Helsinki. Cool people. First hour Joone became friends with tons of girls, as if he has some chickmagnet in the inside of his coat. Think they were probably talking about fashion or that kind of stuff. But good for me. Thank you, Joone. The girls weren’t making much contact with me but I didn’t really fancy them much either. Then after a shot tequila, Joone was all starting to promote me “This guy here, has been a model in New York, and he’s half British!” It’s kind of embarrassing to me, I don’t find it flattering at all. All I could think was ‘Joone stop it, I’m gonna tell them myself once I get the chance’. It is crazy how these girls started to hang around me immediately. I thought it was stupid. Just because I’ve been modeling in New York, I’m half British, you want to fuck me? That is so fucking cheap. Cheap, cheap, cheap. So I ordered vodka at the bar and went outside for a smoke. Cheap bitches. I became a little frustrated but I had to control myself. Nobody talk to me. Then Matleena came outside with some guy she probably met here. Laughing. She was really shit faced, I could see. She was like “Hi Aleksander! Meet Matti!” This and that. They smoked with me, but the dude went to the bathroom inside. I asked Matleena, “do you think bitches only love me because I’ve been a New York model and because I’m half British?” She started laughing. “Who convinced you that?”. “Some girls Joone is hanging with at the bar.” “No, the right bitch loves you for the intelligent person that you are”, she said. Now, that’s flattering. I gave her a hug. I wanted to kiss her but I didn’t. Matleena, she’s alright. She’s so friendly and sweet. So we went back to the group and at the end of the hall I saw Joone sitting on the bar drinking even more shots. I knew that I probably have to drag him home again, just like last time we went out, I literally dragged him home in the snow. Next time he’s gonna pay me for it. I saw Joone was hanging with a Latino guy, and I was all like “Who’s that?” and he says he’s Juan from Venezuela, this and that, he’s gonna do him, blah blah. Now Joone has scored, I need to score as well. Maybe a couple of shots will do the trick. I went off alone and started hanging in the front hall with some girls. I pretended to be American, and they were all falling for it. I just needed to fuck someone, cheap or not. I saw Valtteri walking towards the men’s bathroom and he was all like, ‘follow me’. So I did. And he took me into the corner of the bathroom and offered me some coke. Fuck yes, that’s what I need. We went snorting like beasts and he said “I’ll catch you later”. I went back to the front hall to my girls. They were so drunk. We started talking some more. They were all starting to get clingy, especially this girl from Sweden. She was really into me. She was touching me and hugging me, and I slowly felt the cocaine rush coming. I just didn’t care anymore. We made out. I just didn’t care anymore, I dragged her to the men’s bathroom. Men were watching but they were all encouraging and supportive to our sexual act. We made it a quicky, but it was allllllright.

The rest of the night was a total blur to me. I continued to drink. Joone passed out for half an hour at least, he was backstage. I just laughed at him. All I can remember is that we had a good time. It’s fun to go out every now and then. I remember vaguely walking home from the club to our apartment. It was snowing like crazy. It was just me and Matleena, Joone and Juan. I have lost the rest of the group but I didn’t care. I think Joone tripped about 70 times on our way home because he was blinded by the snow. He fell on the hood of a random car parking in the streetway. Totally messed up. It was 6 in the morning and I invited Matleena in my bed. We were doing alright there. Next morning we woke up, feeling completely buzzed but a night like this is worth it all.

January was crazy. Literally, crazy.

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