worst biography ever

She 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 surety for a debt. I didn't even know the whole thing until I had already visited mental wards. 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 hadn't been writing essays and had not learned the textual skills. I remember in middle school writing about a white horse that was either a snow horse or unicorn. Only now do I know, the symbol of innocence, or was it? I didn't understand anything on the lessons in my mother tongue.

I was a virgin for 21 years. Now I have stopped counting men after seventy, that is, 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 have 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 and get frightened. They could be right, or they just don't know how to treat people right. What is wrong with me then? I gained thirty, fifty kilos in the past three to six years. I was, of course, before that, heavy. When I was first put in the hospital I weighed 67 kg, having a BMI of 25, normal.

We would soon move to the coast to live in a small town. I knew it from my childhood. We drove there often to meet my stepfather. I didn't want to move there under any circumstances. Wailing, screaming, resisting, I would urge to eat everything getting fat and hurting myself in the process.

What was brought to me from a store? - Chocolate and fizzy drinks. I refused to warm food for myself or eat my mother's cooking. There is a book called Chocolate Diet in English, but the book was just about the right things.

It did not help that my grandma owned a kiosk and there was 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 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, and 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, with whom I was? He choked, put his hand in my mouth, pulled my mouth with his hand and pulled my hair. At one point he tried fisting; I 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 traveler 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 out 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 have a poem, called Lust, in one of my online journals, which I remember now. Do not think I have not received love letters and more attention from men. I have had crushes, but I was never interested in men.

He was originally from Australia but lived in London; the one that even abused me almost. But I made him feel bad, he was 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 coordinator, that I would write a book someday. I've started a couple of books, about a life change, or Wicca religion. Change of life was not perfect for 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 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 humor style. I don't know if many believe in any of what I tell myself, but I take me every word sacred even though I hate truth and honesty. I show them utter disregard. Surely the story has to go back to Kajsa, who was born the next day after her grandparent's wedding anniversary in Tampere Central Hospital. Almost black, dark-haired baby, a pink troll I was. At the hospital, I got Koila, which I named myself when I was very young, a self-made pile of brown hair stuffed animal that reminds more of a donkey than - a dog, in Finnish "koira".

The travel, 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 in 1997. 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 anomalistically. 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 it 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 agitated 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 buy- I drank very little in those days, then 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 did 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 in. 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 come from. My father despised the dialect I was learning to speak, as Turku and Tampere have been rivaling 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. It 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 passivized.

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 I should kill myself, but I was listening to my headphones and it might've been a half a thought. And even though on my online journal I connected in a long sentence a band whose music I can't tolerate at all to be pedophiles to be sentenced to death with mercy, so I don't prefer that they would be, something in the band's name makes I think of them when I say it, as it sounds like that.

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 made into an 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 "the 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 psychotic. And humbug! Doesn't anyone get me? I still didn't know what that the psychosis is, and not sure if 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 for three months, but it was a total shock.

Granted, I have been admitted 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 the 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 afterward, my dad and stepmom reassured they loved me. Couldn't help to believe it as I've always been so distant from their daughter. The third time was after my men adventures. How many exactly had I been with when I ended up to the 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 on my savings, lost all my saved up pension money, and to this day I dare not save anymore.

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 dreadlocked man; a jewel-tongued of a drug dealer who didn't want to keep in touch. We did the 69 and he's saying he's been with hundred women, but none have given him a blowjob 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 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 for 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 a 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 to 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 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, recognized 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 colors 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 place... Between raindrops 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 was 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 realized 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 run away from them, was this growing into the body of a woman.



Chapter 3: After writing the worst book ever



I proof-read what little I had written with my best friend, and she only managed a little at a time, giving it the name worst book ever. On other writing sites, there were people kind enough to call it ‘raw’ and ‘honest’. We have met for years now on every Friday to watch movies, originally only watching horror; and she has in her own words developed into a hen from an eagle, with men, because of her therapist. I won’t go into much detail about her, but some things do not translate well from my mind to this book, for example, ‘never dream’ in Finnish is a command to ‘in your dreams’.

I promised I would write a book eleven years ago. My host mum and her dog are now deceased, I don’t know any better of anyone else there, except my only friend on the island somewhen. I’ve met this pagan girl in London once every past three years. This year, I’m in too much debt to be going there, unless I grab that opportunity that my London guy offered to me as a birthday gift if I could go.

A man whom I’m living with, to whom I’m engaged to, was in shambles when I went last time. I like to fantasize in my head that I will seduce and love other men other than him, even though I am pretty linked together with him every day…

What I haven’t written about yet, is how I usually always had one friend and knew the pupil’s names in my class as, as if I wanted to friend all of them on a social network site. I searched for some girls of this age to chat with them online, in the last century when there was still a messenger where you didn’t have to show a face. That is what I used when a friend called the police about my intention to make a suicide, and I quit using it after and soon it vanished into cyberspace. I met just one of those pen pals, or not real-life friends when I went to a summer festival in Turku when I was barely eighteen. She and her friends offered me to stay in their tent, as mine had deflated in the rain and with whom I was with, already took it away with her. It was a real-life savior, to know people. Most of those I met in a class reunion, do not want to keep in touch with me, or any of my old school friends, for that matter.

I mentioned getting outcast by whoever was behind that Finnish alternative band, but they’re not the only ones. I was bullied in my hometown after I located there for some time, trying to finish my high school exams, living with my grandparents. I had never used Internet Relay Chat, but they kept kicking me out of the chat, throwing snowballs- or, virtual fish, at my face. When I joined their network, the next time I checked, they had all left it. I was a dreamer then. I walked to the nearby city in winter, I ended up buying a wedding dress. It was a European size 42 when nowadays I might be ten sizes bigger.

I walked a lot. My old Nokia sports phone counted steps. I must’ve walked more than fifty kilometers in a week. Not to mention biking and swimming, and I got a gym membership… The psychiatrist special doctor at our last meeting together said, ‘that’s not quite true’ when I outburst how much I exercised and had taken part in short part-time work experiments by the city. Her adding she hasn’t any kids and doesn’t have time to be on the computer all day didn’t make a difference anymore to how I hated her. Apparently, she didn’t know anything that I’d been doing, nor did my grandparents remember where I had been to travel, but just assume I was in my room all the time.
It wasn’t for sure the first time I was being put down, nor the last.

My best friend I came to know in the housing for mental patients. It was an actual old house, having a name by its color blue, and it had nature surrounding it. I hated the surroundings. I didn’t like to be treated like a crazy person, even though it seemed like I was acting like it. My friend accused me of being the toughest patient in that housing facility. Yes, I had a phone, and I did mostly look at it, read the news on some app, and take pictures when no one was looking, or listen to music. My record on an exercise bike was four hours, but when I was away from there to be at the gym for that long, everyone lost their minds. Being put down again. As if I deserved to be skinny anymore, I learned how to eat fast, I burnt my tongue most often, and I secretly ate things too. In mental ward, there had been only meal times to wait for to come around, but in here everybody secretly stole food, left dirty plates around, made mistakes, of which we would hear for hours at the morning 'meetings' that started 9 a.m.